" so many assume. so little know "
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in which a bad mouthed agent is assigned to help the walking talking patriarchal symbol of what is right and what is wrong. and in the process of it all, learns how much she needed the desk duty
BOOK ONE | St...
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W A S H I N G T O N D.C. america ____________________________
CORTEZ
"I MEAN, it's basically a babysitting gig. Can you fucking believe this?" My question was loudly asked in the noisy room, as I hoisted myself to sit on the sturdy metal desk. It moved slightly at my movement.
Nia looked up from the computer her eyes were previously set on; digital coding making perfect sense to her wired brain. She was the type of person that could crack any case; and I hated her for it.
Sure, she was a good friend. Sure, she could keep up with me when I went wild. And sure, she has a really cute dog that I get to play with, but her annoyingly brainiac personality was one of my biggest of envies. She was the smartest person I knew; and typically I'd like to say that I was the smartest person in the room. Still, she was my closest friend.
"You know, the average pay for babysitting in Washington D.C. is statistically at roughly fifteen dollars an hour, of course, depending on how many kids you'd be watching. And of course, if there are any pets. But on average, fifteen dollars an hour."
"What's your point?" I asked with a squinted face.
Nia rolled her pretty brown eyes and pushed back a fallen dreadlock that blocked her view. "I mean, the fact that you are getting a six figure pay check for babysitting him alone is huge. I wouldn't call it babysitting. You're helping him adjust to the world around him. It's probably a bit of a culture shock. I went through the same thing when I moved from Somolia. Give him a chance."
This time it was my turn to roll my eyes. "I just think my talents are better spent somewhere else, not on some hundred year old man."
"I'm ninety four, not a hundred." The one and only Steve said, interrupting our conversation. "Can you please stop talking about me like I'm not here?"
I hummed slightly. "Yeah, that's probably not gonna happen." Then I jumped off the desk, my boots making rough contact with the perfectly white marbled floor. "Drinks tonight? Since I'm no longer going to Russia."
"It's Monday, Cortez. No drinks. Go home and rest. You just got back from a mission. Say hi to your cat." Nia told me with half a laugh, and then I lost her attention to the computer again.
I groaned loudly, childishly, and shoved my hands in the back pockets of my tight cargo pants. "Fine. But I'm telling Whiskey that you were a bitch to me."
"Okay, you tell her that." Nia said.
Then I was lost to her, as if I wasn't standing half a foot from her. I knew I wouldn't be able to corrupt her again, to take her attention away from the data that so desperately needed to be processed. So I did the only thing one would do in this situation.
