21. Doolittle Tries One More Time

Chapter twenty-one

Doolittle Tries One More Time

W hat the hell was I supposed to do? He wouldn't answer my texts. Wouldn't take my calls. I pounded on his door several times until a maintenance man finally told me he no longer lived there. SPAM couldn't or wouldn't give me his new address.

Work was one thing but being without my K had me feeling desperate.

Desperate enough to barge into Leader One's office unannounced.

He made me wait outside until his meeting was finished. Three suits walked by. One glared at me, but the other two ignored me completely. I had no clue what that was about, but I was sure it was beyond my security clearance.

"Get in here, Doolittle."

This was not going to be a fun conversation. "Sorry, sir. I realize I'm intruding, but I need to talk to you. K is all but ignoring me. I have to sort this out."

"Sit."

I obeyed, pulling up one of the hardbacked chairs from hell he kept in front of his desk. I wondered what those suits thought about sitting in these torture devices.

"Doolittle. I realize you're going through a difficult time right now, both personally and professionally. Barging in here is not going to help you. I'm not going to help you."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do." I felt like I was having a breakdown. The last thing in the world I needed or wanted to do was cry in front of anyone, especially Leader One. I didn't even know his name or rank, but I knew he was important and not someone I wanted to piss off. Somewhere inside, I still wanted to work here. "I want to be a part of SPAM." I didn't even know why I blurted that out. Maybe so he could see that there was more to me than some spoiled drunk kid.

"Doolittle. Do you even know what SPAM is about? What we do is one thing. Why we do it is another."

"Yes, I, uh, no. Maybe not."

"I didn't think so." He leaned back in his seat. He seemed a million years older than me now. "SPAM is about helping people. Helping this country and this world. We still don't know why people have these special abilities. Well, except maybe yours." We both chuckled a bit, but it was stifled. "Seriously, I don't know, but the way I see it, SPAM wants to help people. We want to find purpose and make these abilities a gift to society, not a curse to the people that have them. Does that make any sense to you?"

"Yes?"

"You don't sound like you know?"

I didn't. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted K back and I needed a drink. And I couldn't really have either. "I don't know that I've ever thought about it. Thought beyond my own place. Until K, I'm not sure I cared."

"Why did you join SPAM?"

"You know my story." I didn't think I had to explain the situation to him. His clearance had to be high enough to know how I got here.

He stood and crossed over to some bookshelves, where he pulled out a decanter of amber liquid. "I want to hear it from you." He poured two glasses and handed me one. A good sniff told me it was whiskey and not the cheap kind. The kind I would expect men like him to always drink.

I took a very tiny sip. Still not a fan. I schooled my face and set the glass on his desk. "I was told it would be in my best interest, and since I didn't have anything else to do…" I folded my hands together in my lap, waiting for the lecture.

"Even after joining, you didn't have to do anything. You could have drunk your life away. Or played the fun, rich bachelor. The cut-up. The rogue who never went out on a case. You didn't."

"No. I, uh, that isn't really me. I drank, sure. But not because…I'm not even sure why. I was bored. I wasn't doing anything. Wasn't helping anyone."

"Why did you go into archeology? To help people?"

"No. I just liked it. Always had. It's the only thing I've ever really loved." Until K.

"Once that was gone, you had no purpose. You were bored. So when SPAM showed up and said you had to join, you went along with it. Why not? You had an ability, and you were educated."

"Pretty much."

"What did you expect was going to happen?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You did well in your training. Not great, but not bad. Well enough to earn you a spot. When you received your assignment, did you think you could kick around Tampa for a while until something better came along? Think you could skate under the radar?"

"Honestly, sir. I didn't think that far ahead. I hoped I could be useful, but SPAM doesn't need archeologists."

"We do have archeologists, but you can't be one of them. It's complicated." He stared at me for a minute, then slammed back his drink. "Doolittle. You can help the world. You can find a purpose here and make a difference. Or you can go back to doing nothing the rest of your life."

"I want a place at SPAM. I do. I…getting the triplets meant something. I helped people. I liked it."

"You helped animals too. I know you found that alligator a new home and are still feeding the bobcat."

"Not that much. I don't want him to get lazy. Cats are like that."

Leader One rolled his eyes. I didn't want to irritate him, so I shut up.

"My recommendation for you is more training. You're a good agent but you don't work all that well with others. I'm not sure you work that well with animals, either. Seems like everyone you got to help had to be bribed."

"That's true. Most animals ignore me and—"

"And you don't know when to shut up and take orders."

"Yes, sir. I want to contribute. If you think more training is good, I'm in."

"Good. Now, what are you doing about Special K?"

"I don't know. But I'm not giving up."

"Good. He's worth it, and he's good for you."

I left without much more of an answer than I had going in. More training. Find my purpose, and I was going to try one more time to get K back.

But really, K called me spoiled. And he didn't think I cared about anything. How was I going to prove him wrong?

I needed to come up with something.

Obviously, he wanted a change. Wanted to move. I wasn't going to be selfish and stay where I was. He may think I'm materialistic, but I'm not. I could downsize. I could get rid of a lot of stuff. I could sell my place.

I called a realtor to get it on the market. She thought I could make a nice profit since we were in a sellers' market, but that defeated the purpose. Well, maybe not. I didn't need that money, profit or not. I would give it to K. He could do whatever he wanted with it. That would show him I wasn't spoiled.

As soon as the listing hit the market, I emailed it to him with a note that said the proceeds of the sale were going to him. In fact, I was selling off stuff in my apartment, which would also go to him. I had the accountants at SPAM set it up to be direct deposited along with his paycheck.

Then I started going through my stuff. What I wanted to keep got boxed up. I'd have an auction house come to take pictures of the rest of it. This would help. But what else could I do?

I sent him another note, saying he would have to look after Mr. Wiggums. I wasn't sure the cat would actually go for it, but I suggested that he could come and get him before the apartment's closing when it sold.

Finally, my phone rang, and I dropped the duct tape, racing across the room to answer it. "Hello? K?"

"Why are you selling your place? You can't do that. Cats are territorial, right?"

"I don't need this. It's too big. Especially without you."

"Doolittle, I'm not ready."

I sat on the floor right where I was. "I don't know what to say, Ky. I want you. I love you. I'm trying to do the right thing, but I don't know what that is. Tell me. Please. What do I say? What do I do?"

"I don't know either."

"Then I'm selling the place. I'm boxing stuff up now. I'm sure the cat will go with you."

"I don't even know where I'm living. Maybe you should slow down. A little?"

"Where are you? At your parents?"

"No, uh…I'm at a hotel in town right now. I'm waiting to hear from Leader One about what my next assignment might be." He didn't sound excited about whatever that was.

"Oh."

"Doolittle. You have to know I never wanted to split up. You know that, right?"

"But you're breaking up with me. I don't give a fuck about SPAM. I mean, I do. I'm staying, but that doesn't mean anything when it comes to you. If we split up anyway and then break up. What the fuck was it all for?"

There was silence. I felt like I needed to fill it but had nothing to fill it with. But I could hear him breathing.

"Why don't you come over? We can order Mexican, and you can help me go through my stuff. Maybe you can keep some of it, if there's something you want, that is."

Still nothing.

"Ky, I'm not kidding. I love you. I'm trying."

"Are you selling your place because you think that's what I want?"

"No. I'm selling because I'm not a spoiled brat. I don't need this, and I want to show you I can stand on my own. I have no idea what you want."

"Neither do I."

"Then maybe. Maybe come over. We can talk about it. Maybe figure it out together."

"I'm not coming over for sex. I don't want to be a booty call."

"You never were, K."

"I know. Alright then."

"Does that mean you're coming over?"

"Oh, Gawd," he huffed. "Yes. Fine."

"Great. I'll order Mexican. You want your regular?"

"Yeah. Yeah, let's have the regular."