16. Mina

SIXTEEN

mina

Brian is back at the house at exactly seven thirty, as promised—like he’s taking me out on a date or something. I’m surprised he doesn’t have flowers. But I look again, and he does have flowers. Dark purple roses—almost black. He gives me the roses and kisses me on the side of the neck.

“Go get us some food. I’ve got to get ready,” he says. He takes a step back and lets out a long, low whistle. “I like you in weapons. Looks good.”

I flush at this bizarre compliment and then just stare down at the roses. He really does think this is a date. Well, isn’t it?

Maybe.

I lay the bouquet down on our usual corner table in the cafeteria, away from the other girls. They’re already whispering and giggling at the fact that Brian got me flowers.

“Are you wearing the Kevlar?” he asks.

Such a romantic.

I hate the Kevlar.

“I’m not going in the building. I don’t know why I need it.”

“Mina…” he warns.

“It’s on.”

He does what in any other circumstance one might call ‘feeling me up’, and then nods, satisfied. There’s a bounce in his step as he goes off to get ready. He’s always so happy when he gets to kill people.

Phyllis has made Chicken Parmesan with Risotto. I fix two plates and take them to our table. Then I go get drinks. Annette intercepts me on the way back. She’s got that worried look on her face again but she doesn’t say anything except, “Be safe.”

“It’s not that exciting. I promise.”

If she knew I was basically going to ride with Brian to a parade I don’t even get to go to, sit outside for maybe twenty minutes, watch a building blow up, and ride back home, she wouldn’t have her anxious House Mother face on.

She looks like she’s about to say something else, but Brian is striding toward us, fully strapped with his own weapons. He puts a heavy black duffel bag on the ground next to his chair and drops into it.

“I’ll get these into some water for you,” she says, taking the roses. She scurries off without a word to Brian.

The cafeteria is abuzz with whispers and pointing. Apparently Brian and I dressed this way is hot gossip. He looks at his watch five times while we eat. It’s like the energy in him is about to explode.

“It’s time. Let’s go,” he says, finally.

I start to collect our plates, but he puts his hand over mine. “We’ve got people for that. It’s time.”

A nervous flutter runs through me as I follow him out to the black nondescript sedan.

“We want people to think we’re with the government tonight?” I ask.

“No, we want a dark colored car to blend into the night that doesn’t call attention.”

“Oh.” Well, that makes sense.

I can’t stop my foot from tapping as we drive. Brian slides a CD into the player and Chopin starts to play. You’d think he’d get tired of it. You’d think I would. But we never do.

“Can I have a corn dog?” I say.

Brian bursts out laughing, “What?”

“A corn dog. It’s the Fourth of July parade, they’re going to have fair food. Haven’t you ever had a street vendor corn dog? They’re the best.”

“You just ate.”

“I saved room. It’s fair food, Brian.” I don’t know why I expect him to understand the glory and wonder of fair food. I don’t bother trying to explain it.

“Absolutely not. There’s a security guard from the building that’ll be there tonight, and I don’t want to have to explain where my two kids are.”

This time I laugh. “What?”

“Just friendly conversation.”

I watch out the window as the trees blur by, trying to calm my beating heart. I don’t know why I’m so anxious. We’re going to be more than a block away from everything. But still, I feel nervous.

Finally we arrive. We have to drive in an odd pattern to move around barricades and the parking from the parade until we finally find a spot a couple of blocks from the building.

It’s dark and the parade is just getting started. When Brian rolls down the windows and shuts off the car, I can hear the marching band and kids squealing. Some of the fireworks are already being shot off. They don’t wait until the very end here. The fireworks go off intermittently throughout the parade with a big finale at the end.

I can also smell the fair food. I look at Brian and make a sad face.

“No corn dogs.”

“I can go. You can stay here. The security guard doesn’t know what I look like.”

“No, Mina. We’re here to do a job. We can’t lose focus.”

I grumble and slump down in my seat. The clock on the dash reads: 9:11 and anxiety coils in me more tightly as I worry it’s a bad omen.

Brian hands me a portable screen.

“What’s this?”

“It’s our video feed as soon as I catch the signal and get it turned on.” It takes him only a couple of minutes and then I’m looking at the bomb on the unfinished floor. I take a deep breath. We’re really about to blow up a whole bunch of people.

Brian gets out the car and comes around to my side to retrieve me.

“I need to be able to see the building.” He finds a spot for us on a small hill a few yards behind the car in the gravel lot.

The Stryker building is pretty tall, but there are obstructions in the way of our view from the seasonal decorations.

He goes back to the car, opens the trunk, and takes out a pair of binoculars. “Do you want to watch the fireworks?”

He reaches me again in several long strides and passes them to me. I know he doesn’t mean the actual fireworks. He’s letting me get the best view of the building blowing—just another romantic gesture on our first murder date.

Brian puts a finger to his lips, and I realize he’s listening to something. He’s got an earbud in his ear.

“Targets are in the conference room.”

“I want to listen.”

He gives me the wireless bud from his other ear, and I can hear the men talking. It’s all stupid shit right now. Something about some ‘piece of ass’ at a strip club. And then they all laugh like a bunch of frat boys. I wish we had live video feed of them so I could watch these gross assholes blow into pieces. Though realistically the camera would blow, too, so I probably wouldn’t see anything. I pass the screen over to Brian, and he pulls out a remote. A small light flashes red and I see an echoing flash of red on the screen.

“It’s got the signal,” he says. “Ready?”

I nod. I am out on a job with Brian. I am out blowing up a building with Brian. This is so weird. I wish we were doing something more exciting than just remote blowing a building, but I’m already nervous even doing this. Why wasn’t I this nervous when I went to rescue Brian at Easter?

Some sort of Beginner Badass Bravado?

Brian presses the button and we both watch as the red digital clock numbers flash and a fifteen minute countdown begins. He sets his own watch to match the countdown and then puts the portable screen back in the car.

I have the binoculars in my hands but I haven’t looked yet. There won’t be anything to see for a while.

I take the earbud out of my ear and hand it back to him. “Listening to them speak makes me want to give them a more violent end.”

That’s an understatement. There is no part of me that wants to listen to these slimy men talk for the next fifteen minutes, though admittedly it might be fun to listen when they stop talking.

Brian nods and puts it back in his ear.

I pace back and forth on the grass. Finally I get bored and decide to use the binoculars.