reproze

The restaurant was a ruse—the whole thing like an expensive play. The soundtrack was soft classical music overlaid with the rise and fall of snippets of conversations. The ambiance, including our overattentive waiter, almost made me forget why and what I was there for. At least the food was real. And I didn't have to pay for it. My knife fell through the medium rare filet on its own and I frowned as I started to chew it. How the hell could meat even be that tender? "I've seen that look before," Kona said, forcing me out of my head and back to the table. She'd probably seen every expression I could make. I met her shadowy, half-lidded eyes. Her lips, so dark red they were almost black, were bent in a sly curve. "Saresh, I know the food is good," she started as she speared a tiny purple potato with her fork. She gave it a few chews and then covered her mouth with her other hand. "Better than good, but you've been quiet." She watched me for a few more chews. "Even for you."

"And you haven't even touched your drink." She used the utensil to point at it. She hadn't touched hers either. "Just having trouble turning work off," I said, tapping my temple with a finger. I knew better than to outright lie to that woman. She nodded after giving me a curt "Mhm." Even half truths were risky around her. "I figured that's what the double was for." I smirked and grabbed my scotch. "We didn't toast." "We didn't. A rare faux pas for you." She set her utensils down. "Well?" "To loosening up," I said. We touched glasses. I recoiled after taking a sip and did a very poor job of hiding it. She cocked an eyebrow as her glass hovered just in front of her mouth. "Is that what we're doing?" She put it down a moment later without drinking it. Before I could say anything our waiter returned. "Is everything alright?" he asked with nervous energy, his body turned towards me. "Yes, everything is alright." "Just alright?" Kona sweetened her voice, asking me the question but looking at our server. The man forced a smile and looked at her. "Is there anything I can do for you?" "No, I'm having a blast. And we do so appreciate your attentiveness." "Of course, ma'am. I'll be close if you need anything." He gave her a quick nod, glanced back at me, and then scurried off. I tracked him back to his perch near the kitchen. A man with sunglasses slithered out and stood next to him. The waiter covered his mouth for a few moments and the man nodded. Then, he turned his head and brought a hand to his ear. "You're getting a lot of attention this evening." Kona's eyes were sweeping what she could see of the dining area behind me, sitting up in her chair with rigid posture. She would have already realized I was facing most of the exits. "Bit of a change of pace, no? Are you jealous?" I leaned forward and smirked. For most, death would have been preferable to the look she gave me in response. I've seen torturers look more inviting during their preparations. I sat back again and my shoulders tightened. She took the first sip of her drink and then tapped the rim of the glass with a nail. The sound almost made me shiver. "It's good. Try it." I opened my mouth to deflect but decided against it. I wasn't convinced there was a good word left to say so I slid the drink toward me instead. The trap became obvious as I raised the glass, getting a whiff of what was in it. A Gimlet. "It's good," I confirmed, nodding. In truth, it was much better than mine. The taste of alcohol made me want to drain the whole thing. Somehow she'd ordered it without me catching the contradiction. I set the glass down and began to slide it back to her side of the table. "Keep it. You know I don't like gin." We sat in silence for a while, watching one another. Maybe sizing each other up. She knew she could take advantage of my unwillingness to outright brawl. She'd get a few good shots in before we were separated. Every now and then she'd glance over one of my shoulders and then back to me. I did the same, noticing a few extra hands disappear underneath tablecloths or into pockets. Each time she noticed me looking elsewhere the anger churned a little further up in her chest. "What the fuck is going on here?" she blurted out in a quiet, dangerous whisper. "What have you done?" I sighed, shaking my head. "Odd question coming from you." Again, silence and sharp, disarming eye contact. Our waiter took just a few steps toward us but it was too late. Kona followed my gaze, turned, and threw a look at him so severe his legs stopped working. I shook my head in his direction, dismissing him. "How many? The waiter, obviously. A few behind you, at least. Definitely a few behind me. We're the only table I can see who got their mains. I'd bet we're the only ones whose drinks have alcohol in them, as well." She paused and then her hand shot across the table, snatching my scotch before I could cut her off. She swirled the glass before raising it to her nose. Her eyes narrowed. She drank the whole thing in a few gulps and set it down with a look that defined disgust. "I know a few drops of water can open up the flavors but I've never heard of doing it the other way around. Is that like a homeopathic thing?" "You got me," I said, showing her my palms. "You're in on this." The hurt was there for just a second before she continued, "Say what you want to say." "I love you." She let out a clipped laugh, throwing her head back for added effect. The room seemed to quiet and too many people stopped what they were doing to pay us attention. "The last time you said that to me you disappeared for nineteen months." She looked around again, this time moving her head to see more of the room. "I... I had to." I hated that it still felt true. I went to sleep some nights thinking about the other choice, wondering about how bad I may have miscalculated. "I've heard." She swept an arm across the table. "This is an unusual way to make up for it." "I tried to contact you. To explain a few things. I used your favorite dead drops—London, New York, Shanghai, Sydney." Her forehead knotted and she eyed me with suspicion. She seemed to realize something but didn't volunteer what. Instead, I said, "You lied to me." "Of course I lied to you. And you lied to me." She tapped the table twice with a finger. "'This is what we do. We lie and we kill and we get the mission done. Whatever it takes,' right?" She was throwing ancient words back at me. An argument we had on a soupy, sweaty night during an Algerian heat wave, trying to figure out if we could make this thing work. If it was even worth trying. If we'd get to live another year if we did. I forced myself back to the present. "Why did you do it?" "You're going to have to be more specific." "Merchaud. Brazil. Twelve weeks ago. Why?" My skin started to feel itchy as I watched pure confusion materialize across from me. She searched for some kind of understanding that wasn't in my eyes. "Oh no, babe. You let someone else fuck you and they did you real good." She laid an arm on the table, fingers curled in my direction. She waited until I rested my hand in hers before continuing. "Twelve weeks ago I was in a hospital in South Korea. Don't look away. Someone tried to kill me and they got damn close." Her other hand pulled her neckline down, revealing a splotchy red bandage taped above her heart. "Who are you in bed with?" My face flushed. It was hot. The room seemed too small and too big at the same time. South Korea? Impossible. "Hold on, I saw footage. Multiple angles. What? You have a doppelganger out there?" "Close up?" "I can pick you out of crowd without seeing your face." "Yeah, someone let you believe that." I shook my head. "No. No! You had every reason to go after Merchaud. You knew where he was. I know the intel got to you." "And I'm just so vengeful I'd bite at the next chance I got." "He—" "I know," she said through gritted teeth. My forehead was speckled with sweat. I took a deep breath and checked the exits behind Kona. The men in suits with unaccounted for hands had spread out, standing in front of the doors to the kitchen and stairways. Another blocked the hallway that led to the restrooms. "How's the front look?" I asked. "Still clear. Too suspicious otherwise. The maître d' looks real antsy, though." "You packing?" She tilted her head and shifted her lips. "Good, me too." "You always are," she said, smirking. "Now really isn't the time." "It might be the last time." Kona leaned forward over the table as far as she could get. I did the same. We kissed and it felt like everyone in the restaurant was watching us. I half expected applause when it was over. "I don't forgive you," she said after. "But I do love you." She raised a hand, beckoning our waiter over. The other was hidden underneath the table. "Now, let's get the fuck out of here." "Yeah, let's."