BooksBarbecue
Back 3 a.m.
Chapters (67)
  1. :01
  2. :02
  3. :03
  4. :04
  5. :05
  6. :06
  7. :07
  8. :08
  9. :09
  10. :10
  11. :11
  12. :12
  13. :13
  14. :14
  15. :15
  16. :16
  17. :17
  18. :01
  19. :02
  20. :03
  21. :04
  22. :05
  23. :06
  24. :07
  25. :08
  26. :09
  27. :10
  28. :11
  29. :12
  30. :13
  31. :01
  32. :02
  33. :03
  34. :04
  35. :05
  36. :06
  37. :07
  38. :08
  39. :09
  40. :10
  41. :11
  42. :12
  43. :13
  44. :14
  45. :15
  46. :16
  47. :00
  48. :01
  49. :02
  50. :03
  51. :04
  52. :05
  53. :06
  54. :07
  55. :08
  56. :09
  57. :10
  58. :11
  59. :12
  60. :13
  61. :14
  62. :15
  63. :16
  64. :17
  65. :18
  66. :19
  67. 3:46 a.m.

I nod and pull open the door. I’m not sure why I do it, maybe because I think this is the last time I’ll ever speak to him, maybe because I want to stay in the fight even though I can’t lift my arms above my waist. I get out, then turn and lean down on the door and say, “Do me a favor and stay away from Ingrid.”

He leans backward.

“Yeah, I know all about your little meeting the other day.”

He shakes his head softly from side to side, and I know for the second time in one night I have taken a giant leap of faith and landed in a giant stinking pile of shit.

“Oh, you do?” He pauses. “Then you know we were meeting to discuss a little ceremony I planned for you, to give you a key to the city. You know, for helping me out and all.”

I gulp loud enough that a bird flies from a nearby tree.

“But you can forget all about that,” he says, then pulls the door shut.

:09

“I can’t believe you thought I would cheat on you with the President.”

Even over the phone, I can see the disappointment in her face. “Yeah, I know. Stupid.”

“If I was going to cheat on you, it would be with that hunky senator from Mississippi.” She whistles a catcall.

I know she’s trying to bring some levity to the situation, that this is her way of saying that she accepts my apology, but the smile she’s trying to elicit never comes. I don’t feel deserving of her or her kindness.

I’ve spent the last ten minutes telling Ingrid every last detail. The review, figuring out the clues, the black site, calling the President and demanding a face-to-face with the Director, then my ambush and falling into a vat of shit.

“I should have told you about the meeting,” she says.

“No, you shouldn’t have. It was supposed to be a surprise. I shouldn’t have been snooping in your phone.”

“Yeah, creepy.” She says the word in a high-pitched twang.

“Okay, I get it. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have time to be sorry. Just trust me a little bit more, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, no key to the city ceremony?”

“I think not.”

“That’s okay. Who wants a key to DC anyways? And what are you going to do at 3:00 a.m? Go to the all-night diner?”

“I’m not sure that’s how a key to the city works.”

“Yeah, he didn’t really talk much about the actual perks, just that he wanted to give you one and have a little ceremony for you at the White House.”

“Would have been cool,” I say.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you a key to my city.”

I laugh.

“What are the perks?”

She explains the perks. They are mouthwatering.