Damsel Not In Distress

Chapter Five

Breakfast was delightfully stressful. Mrs.Westen was lovely, which made me worry more about her sitting at a table with a bullet magnet. More than one as a matter of fact. We could keep her safe, but it wasn't something we could guarantee in either line of work.
We went for food at Carlito's. It was Miami. There were beaches, babes, and patio bars. Who wanted to be inside when the weather was this amazing? I had driven down from Virginia so all I had was a long sleeve sweaters. It was a waste and made me stand out so Micheal lent me the tshirt I'd taken earlier. My tragically pale skin was almost neon in the deliciously warm sun as I scarfed down a spinach feta omelette. It had been two days since I had eaten anything real and I was not Micheal. He could spend three days on a desert island and act like it didn't bother him. Perks of stupid spy training. Even now he was picking at his breakfast, scanning the area periodically. I followed his eyes thinking I would catch a glimpse of whoever it was he was supposed to be meeting this morning. I caught sight of a few business types, but Micheal was wearing jeans. If he was meeting a high society he'd be wearing a suit, his comfort zone. A few more filed past as Mrs.Westen held up most of the conversation. I nodded occasionally to make her feel special.
"And then the dinosaur came out of the cupboard with my mud pie." She declared. I nodded, checking briefly to make sure she wasn't having a stroke. "If either of you would look at me I would believe you were listening." Both of us dropped our forks turning to look at her.
"Sorry." We chimed simultaneously.
"You were saying something about aquarobics?"
Bless this lady, because the moment she began talking I zoned right back out and I'm not totally sure Micheal was ever zoned in in the first place. I felt him straighten in his seat beside me. He had clearly seen whoever it was he was supposed to be meeting, but I hadn't. Maybe it was one of those stuffy business guys. I followed his gaze to a face that was more familiar that i wished it was. Dylan Mace: toxic, ex-boyfriend, owner of a busted Harley, all around bad news. Long brown hair and a scruffy beard concealed that baby-faced hooligan I'd gotten all mixed up in. My leg began bouncing up and down nervously. "Sorry Mike. Gotta go." I shifted to make a swift exit. Micheal placed his hand on my knee, stopping me from bolting like he did when we were younger.
"Who is he?"
"Name's Dylan, goes by Mace. Pretty bad drinking habit. Pretty bad temper. Pretty bad at keeping his hands to himself. Bike by Harley, Dents by me." I discreetly pointed towards the Harley parked out front. I could have sworn I saw him chuckle, Mrs. Westen seemed intrigued by something she clearly thought was happening. Ew. Once upon a time she wouldn't have been so wrong. Micheal grinned at her. "Uh, Mom we'll meet you in the car." She thankfully took the hint and receded to safety. "Just play along." He instructed me through a tight smile. Oh yeah. Just play along with this plan you know nothing about, so i can get this thing you know nothing about, from this guy you know more than you want to about. Mace approached almost immediately. I rolled my eyes. No patience.
"Can we help you?" Micheal asked in a voice more deliberate and deeper than his own. "We're kind of in the middle of something."
"You asked me to meet."
He looked up at Mace seemingly annoyed with his presence. "You bring what I asked for?"
"I'm a man of my word."
Micheal squeezed my knee. "Not the way I remember it. How's your wife, Mace?"
"You two know each other?" Micheal acted surprised.
"I wouldn't say that."
"I cut her loose some time ago." He chewed exaggeratedly on his gum, popping it like a child. I narrowed my eyes at him trying to figure out who this man thought he was talking to like I didn't remember him banging on my door and begging me on his knees to take him back.
"I left you and that bike in Tuscaloosa. Why are you even here?" I sneered.
"Business. None of yours."
Micheal threw his hands up exaggeratedly. "Are you dis.res.pecting. My girl?" Mace froze in shock. This was clearly not what he had in mind. "You disrespect her. You disrespect me and disrespect," Micheal stood, eye to eye with Mace, slightly taller than him. He straightened his spine and squared his shoulders. "Must be dealt with."
You're going to slug this guy with your mom watching?
That wasn't his style. Mrs. Westen seemed like she would approve of her son standing up for women, as he did quite often, but this was for his benefit. I just wasn't sure what him going all Cowboy Barfight was going to do. I snuck a glance up at him for a cue of any kind. Ever the professional, there was none to be found. Clearly you should just read his mind.
"And what are you going to do about it?" Why did bad guys always ask that as if they wanted the answer. Something about Micheal's grin made it seem genuine; He was excited Mace was challenging him. My memory lit ablaze. We used to do this in bars where confidants from the rival crime family spent time. It was Micheal's job. That grin was my cue. I strolled around behind Mace who's worried puppy dog eyes were shifting between Micheal and I.
"What are you going to do about it?" I casually nudged Mace's arm, knocking him off balance. Micheal swung before he had a chance to brace himself. I quickly grabbed hold of the front of his jacket to steady him, slipping my hand into the inside pocket and snatching what I assumed was whatever Micheal was after. Amateur. I tried to set him gently in a chair but I missed and he crumpled to the floor, holding his eye and trying to gain back his equilibrium. Micheal held his hand out to help me step over Mace. "I'll say hi to Danny." He choked out, chuckling under his breath. I stared down at him for a moment.
"Time to go." As if an alarm had gone off the cook emerged from the back, swinging a hot metal ladle over his head, yelling at the tippy top of his lungs. We sprinted to the Charger, Micheal dramatically sliding over the hood as I tossed him his keys. I slid into the passenger seat, hiding a grin and wondering why I was exhilarated by this problematic behavior. All of a sudden I was that twenty year old with a fatal attraction to Micheal's organized Chaos again.
Mrs. Westen glared at me from the backseat interrupting my shameless reminiscing. My hands went up in surrender immediately as I tossed the papers into Micheal's lap.
"He did it." *
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*Obviously not current Micheal's style, it's for the plot