Code Name: Ghost - Sawyer Bennett Page 0,12
her. I mean, she’s really down to earth… not pretentious at all. Even though she has every right to be since she’s so gorgeous.”
Settling in, I listen to Cage wax poetic about a woman. As we eat and drink beer, I learn all about Jaime, who has seemingly caught more than just Cage’s attention. I wonder if he’s falling in love. I hope so. I remember the feeling when I’d first met Jimmy. Seeing Cage’s dopey expression and the respect he has when he talks about Jaime makes me believe in the miracle of love again.
“She sounds amazing,” I say when he finally loses steam while telling me about her greatness.
“She is,” he replies, but his tone is glum. “But there’s one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“When we first started seeing each other, I told her I was a used-car salesman. So, now she thinks that’s what I do.”
Incredulously, my jaw drops. “I don’t even know what to say to that. I mean… why would you do that?”
Cage shrugs, his face turning a telling shade of pink. “I just… set expectations low with women, you know? When I meet someone I want to hook up with, I make up a story about what I do for a living. I tell them the most dull, uninspiring thing I can think of, so they don’t get too interested in me. It lets me walk away at some point without her hanging on to the image of a badass security expert.”
I just stare. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Hey,” he exclaims, pretending to be hurt. “It’s worked well for me in the past. Except now, I really like Jaime. I want to keep seeing her, but I’m afraid she’ll dump my ass when she realizes I’ve been lying to her all this time.”
“You need to tell her the truth,” I say with a pointed finger. “If she really likes you back, she’ll forgive you.”
“I don’t know,” he replies skeptically. “And besides… this thing’s probably not destined to last, right? I never stick around for the long haul.”
“Except you’ve pointed out to me in gory detail how much you really do like her,” I counter.
“Fuck,” he mutters, rising from the table. “I need another beer. Maybe then you can convince me to do the right thing.”
CHAPTER 5
Malik
After I back out of my apartment, I lock it and pocket the key. I don’t run into anyone in the communal kitchen or living area, although I can smell freshly brewed coffee. I ignore it, having drank my one cup for the day after my morning shower.
My understanding is the only other people who are currently living here are Cage and Merritt, but I’ve yet to see either since I’ve been back. Granted, I’ve stayed holed up in my apartment, for the most part, having nothing better to do.
The Jameson apartments are on the fourth and top floor of the building, which is a renovated warehouse in the Hill District of Pittsburgh. On the outside, the building is dilapidated and covered in graffiti. The inside tells a different story.
In addition to the apartments, kitchen, and entertainment area, the fourth floor also has a state-of-the-art gym as well as access to a rooftop garden. There are two ways to descend—the original freight elevator with a steel-grated gate that takes forever to rumble up and down and the floating staircase that drops down through the dead center of the building. It’s made of reclaimed wood, has a tarnished iron railing, and steel cables that give it the appearance it just hovers there.
I choose the staircase, heading down to the second floor, which houses all the offices and administrative services of the company. Kynan spared no decorating expenses here. The walls are of the same original brick that make up the outside, but they’ve been sand-blasted to their original quality. The floors are hardwood punctuated with plush area rugs, and the ceiling is run with a gridwork of exposed beams and ducts to heighten the industrial vibe. One end of the second floor has black leather furniture set in clusters with aluminum tables where employees can work or have impromptu meetings.
On the opposite side, there are glass-walled offices along the perimeter with the floor space housing rows of stylish desks made of steel and wood. There are no cubicles dividing, which promotes a collaborative atmosphere.
As I step off the staircase onto the second floor, I cut a hard left toward a glassed office with a brass nameplate on the door that reads—Dr.