On The Surface

Bad Spy Movie

The next morning, Waylon woke up alone in Eddie's bed, sprawled out on satin sheets. He buried his face in a pillow and inhaled deeply. He wished to envelope himself in the scent of his lover—as soothing as it was arousing. Waylon had to fight his instincts to stay in bed in order to get dressed in yesterday's clothes and wander out into the apartment.

Still no Eddie, but someone had made coffee, and it was still warm. Waylon helped himself to a mug, checking his laptop and phone. A message from Lisa. She was working for the next few days, and Miles had asked about him. Maybe it was time to find out what all the reporter knew, even if Eddie disagreed.

Waylon finally found Eddie in the basement. The loud whirring of the sewing machine as he pushed through yards and yards of off-white silk combined with an old-timey song playing from an old radio made it impossible for Eddie to hear Waylon even when he was calling his name from right behind him. No wonder the tailor had missed all the commotion of the fire that day.

"EDDIE," Waylon finally had to scream and wave his hands in the man's face before he took his foot off the pedal and turned to face Waylon.

"Good morning, darling," said Eddie, smiling with such an adorable dreamy look on his face that Waylon had to grin back. "Sleep well?"

"Not really. I'm going over to the shop. Just, didn't want to leave without...seeing you?" Waylon smiled. Eddie smiled. Both men just stared for a moment in the dimly lit basement with some strange old song croaking in the background.

"Dinner. Tonight. My place," grinned Eddie. Waylon nodded, running a hand through his unwashed blond hair. It seemed unfair that Eddie was so well put together in a vest and slacks with his thick stripe of hair slicked back so perfectly.

"I'd love that," Waylon said, leaning in to kiss Eddie's cheek before turning to climb out of the basement.

Waylon's heart sunk the moment he left Eddie's shop and saw a black Mercedes parked outside of his own store. His hands started to shake. Was Jeremy Blaire psychic to know that he had been considering betraying the company? Waylon tried to ignore the car and unlocked his store, but the loud slamming of a car door had him watching in the reflection of the store's glass front as a black suited Blaire approached.

"Mr. Park. We need to have a word," said Jeremy, and Waylon noticed that today he was not alone. Another two men had also stepped out of the car wearing black suits and black sunglasses. One of the goons was carrying a black leather briefcase. They reminded Waylon of a bad spy movie.

"What can I help you with," Waylon asked, innocently, pausing with his door slightly ajar.

"You're going to want this to be in private," said Blaire.

Waylon wanted Eddie. He wanted Lisa. Shit, he would have settled for Miles showing up looking handsomely befuddled and video recording the scene playing out in front of the dingy computer shop. Waylon nodded, took a deep breath, and walked into his store. Jeremy and the other two men followed inside. One closed the door and stood with his hands clasped in front of him, as though guarding the entrance. From someone coming in, or from Waylon running out?

"What is this about?" Waylon asked, trying to sound confident and keep the shaking out of his voice. "New contracting position? Trouble with a tenant? Is this about the fire?"

"You took it upon yourself to disengage some of our company's hardware without proper authorization. We are going to have to ask that you give that back," Jeremy said calmly. He nodded at the other suit who carried the briefcase. The man walked to Waylon's desk. He pulled an ultra-thin laptop out of the case and started to open it up. Waylon decided to walk back behind his desk, putting some distance between him and the secret service wannabes.