Through the Storm

Chapter Fourteen

Monday, September 10, 2007

I walked in the front door of my apartment and immediately recognized my dad's voice, but he wasn't speaking English. It was something like Russian, maybe?

I leaned against the wall on the other side of the kitchen and listened as he rattled on for another minute or two before hanging up the phone.

"Scott, is that you?"

So much for eavesdropping. "Yeah, dad?"

He met me in the hallway. "Where have you been?"

"Uh...yeah, I was just out with...you know, people."

He frowned. "It's late. It'd be nice if you would call."

"Sorry," I mumbled before switching subjects. "Were you just speaking Russian?"

He turned his back to me. "Turkish, actually. We're working on a new drug trial in Turkey. I like to be able to communicate without a translator as much as possible."

Totally secret CIA stuff.

Suddenly I was reminded of another suspicious incident. One from the future. At the time, I honestly thought dad was just being a snob about me dating an average guy. It was mid-July 2009. Mitch and I had just come back from dinner and were walking into my building. He jumped on my back and we both saluted Henry at the door. He laughed and shook his head. "Have a good night, Mr. Hoying, Mr. Grassi."

"Why don't they ever use our first names?" Mitch asked as we walked through the lobby.

"They refuse. Believe me, I've tried."

He was already kissing the back of my neck before the door to my apartment was open. Both of us had been out of town for a long weekend. Five days apart and we were ready to jump each other...well...or at least start making out. Either way, sitting through dinner first had been a terrible idea.

"Do you want a drink?" I asked him, opening the fridge at the bar in the living room.

"I like Chardonnay...do you have any of that?"

I snatched the bottle from the fridge and decided against glasses.

Since we had actually planned our dinner date, all I wanted right now was to dive back into the impulsive whirlwind we had been in the previous week.
"Let's get totally trashed tonight."

"What are we celebrating?" Mitch asked as we walked into my room and sat on the end of the bed.

Nothing...yet, I thought as I pulled the cork out and handed him the bottle. "Us, of course. The two coolest people in the world."

He took a sip of the wine. "I can't believe you're not using glasses. How much is a bottle of this anyway?"

I examined the label. "I don't know...maybe a hundred dollars."

Mitch choked on his last gulp. "A hundred dollars! You can get wasted with a ten-dollar bottle of whiskey."

I laughed. "It was your choice. Besides, you could get drunk from two or three beers."

He rolled his eyes, then smiled again. "Tell me about Europe. Kevin couldn't stop yapping about seeing the Alps and people in suspenders and lederhosen."

"You first, what did you do in Indiana?" I asked, stalling so I could mentally edit my story a little.

"Scott, it's the Midwest. Completely boring. I baked a lot of gluten-free pastries with my grandmother and babysat my cousins."