Is it true that you got the nickname 'Queen' because the Queen of England secretly gave you her crown during a jewel heist at the Castle?" Rebecca Baxter asked and I sat up straighter in my chair.
"No." I said, hoping a short response and my stiff posture would stop her, but Rebecca was as much her father as she was her mother.
"I heard that you convinced a Swedish model to smuggle illegal bullets into America by hiding them in her silicon breats."
"Silicon doesn't hide bullets."
"What about the rumor that you diffused a bomb at the Pentagon using only used gum and a shoelace?"
"Rebecca. If you can leave me alone for how ever long it takes me to finish this report, I will tell you all about the time Joe was put up for auction as a sex slave in Kenya. Deal?" I asked, knowing that Bex was a spy at heart and couldn't resist any chance of gaining knowledge- especially about someone she didn't know well.
She didn't say anything, but instead sat down on the expensive couch to my left. I tossed a glance to Joe, who hadn't offered much to help to me out, only to find he was smirking back at me. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the report.
Operatives McDreamy and Devil's Advocate entered the estate... Two hours worth of work and that was my outstanding work so far. Two pages of unadulterated "fun"... and I hadn't even made it to the SNAFU yet. Joe was probably typing away at the exact scenario that lead me to be hanging upside down in a Russian dignitaries office and Joe hiding under his desk while said dignitary was having a go with his mistress on top of said desk.
I could hear the steady strum of his fingers on the keyboard, and each confident stroke made me more resentful and angry. I didn't even want to go one this dammed mission. There should be a rule. If you didn't want to do it, you shouldn't have to fill out paper on it when everything went to hell.
I switched tabs on my computer and sighed. My home screen was a single dazzling shot of my husband, Warren. simple so people wouldn't ask but lovely enough to make me smile. Although I loved the home screen, I loved my other photos more. Pictures of me in my Gallagher uniform and him in his Blackthorne uniform. one of us at the beach. I was in his arms and he was kissing my neck, the sun had just been going down and allowed for the most breathtaking photo I'd ever seen. Despite how beautiful that photo was, my favorite was the most heart breaking. He was wearing scrubs and I was in a hospital gown. I had just given birth to Mathew Joseph Solomon... my five pound premature baby. Warren and I were both crying in the photo, but not from tears of happiness. We knew he wouldn't make it through the night, but the knowledge didn't make it any less harder. I flipped to the last photo, the one that made me the happiest. Abby snuck into our hotel room while we were both sleeping (something nobody had been able to do, and I'm still convinced she did by setting up a wireless camera at the foot of the bed) and snapped a picture. His roght arm was over my side and his left was holding my head so I would stay muzzled into his body. The picture was perfect. So raw and beautiful... and personal.
I took one last look at the photo before going back to my report. Yet again, Warren had given me the extra push to keep going. It felt like I was always just short of have enough energy. I put myself in go and began to dance sporadically across the keyboards, using a technique I developed in eighth grade... If you don't know what you're doing, impress them with big words. It always works.