The Recruit Page 2

  “I’ll take the compliment.” Dylan smiled bashfully, before saying, “Although, I could say the same thing about you.”

  She frowned, “You think I’m weird?”

  “You’re… different.”

  She should have felt offended, instead she was amused. Realizing she actually liked him she chose another compliment instead of a clever remark for a reply. “You’re an interesting man, Dylan Torrence.”

  A beeping sound distracted them from their conversation. From his belt, Dylan produced a little black phone; it was a device she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone she knew own. He took a moment to read a message on it. “I have to go,” he announced seconds later.

  Rebecca looked genuinely disappointed, “Such a shame. I was enjoying the company.”

  Pleased to hear it, Dylan took a card out of his jacket’s pocket and handed it to her. “If that’s the case, then I’d like to request the honor your company again.”

  Rebecca didn’t understand the formality. “And you will have it… the honor, I mean.”

  “May I have your number?” he asked, pointing to the business card he’d just given her.

  “Oh, right. Yes, of course.” She frantically looked for a pen in her small purse, but knew she wasn’t carrying one. “If only I had something to write with.”

  She saw Dylan pat his jacket as he looked for pen himself. Rebecca was sure she had seen his gun hiding under his suit, which excited her.

  “Here you are,” Dylan offered

  She was quick to write her digits, giving him his card back. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Dylan nodded, “I’m really glad I came. I’m glad I met you.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I wish I could stay longer, but I need to leave.” He held her number with two fingers. “I can’t wait to see you again,” Dylan said before excusing himself.

  Rebecca chose not to stop herself from screaming. The pain started in her heart, but it soon spread to the rest of her body. Long ago, she had made her peace with the fact she could never have children, yet she suspected what she was feeling now was nothing compared to the pains of labor. This was much worse. It was not only hard to think; it was also hard to breathe and move. Every single cell in her body burned in a way that made her forget what was real and what was not. She imagined it was what being inside a volcano without dying would feel like.

  For a moment, she forgot she was even alive.

  It disappointed her when his message had come six days after the wedding.

  Rebecca had thought she’d make quite an impression. She had thought wrong. Before the message came, she had given up hope, which was the reason why hearing his voice again made her day brighter.

  Dylan’s message was very direct; he wanted to go out to dinner.

  Her excitement turned to panic as she considered they may not get along like they had when they’d met. When she remembered their conversation at the wedding, she wasn’t sure they’d talked about anything intimate enough to get to know each other.

  She imagined this was what the dinner would be all about, figuring out if they fit well together.

  What if she turned out not to be as interesting as he remembered? Rebecca wasn't anything amazing, like an FBI agent. She was just a dance teacher, who didn’t even own her own studio, with barely enough to live comfortably. If her grandmother hadn’t left her the house when she passed, she wouldn’t have enough for rent.

  She could only hope he would still find her as delightful as she hoped he’d found her at the wedding. She would need to wear the perfect dress, smell good, and be ready on time. Dylan was the first man interested in her for a very long time and she didn’t want to make any mistakes.

  More than anything she wanted to call Coleen. Coleen would tell her what to do. She would tell her what to say. Coleen would cheer her on and tell her not to worry because Dylan would love her. Too bad she was on her honeymoon. She and Bob would still be out of town three more days. Her date would be over by the time they came back. Rebecca wished she would have good news to tell her friend the next time she saw her. She wanted to believe she and Dylan would get along great.

  He’d said he needed a change. He’d said what a great time he’d had with her and was glad he’d gone to the wedding. There was hope.

  Did it matter if he was a stranger? Well, maybe not a stranger. Chief Anderson knew him; it couldn’t be that bad.

  For a moment she forgot about all her suspicions about him. Like how strange it was that he had invited himself to a wedding? If she began to find flaws in the man, she would succeed. She refused to do that, instead she welcomed the opportunity. At twenty-eight years old, she wasn’t getting any younger.

  Now all she had to do was dial the number he’d left her to confirm she’d gotten his message. Easy peasy, lemon squeeze.

  She picked up the receiver and dialed.

  Dylan answered after a few rings.

  “Torrence.”

  Rebecca was startled by the deep voice on the other end. It did not sound at all like the Dylan she’d met days before. It was different. Detached, somehow. He sounded like he meant business. He even sounded intimidating. Scary. When Rebecca didn’t say anything, Dylan was forced to speak, “Who is this?” It was a demand, because it hadn’t sounded like a question. It made her realize her introspection had lasted more than she had meant to.

  Biting her tongue, she said: “This is Rebecca Sawyer, remember me? I didn’t know you were busy, or I wouldn't have called,” she stammered. When she had bitten her tongue, she had made it bleed.

  Dylan had heard enough to recognize her. “Rebecca, yes. I’m so glad you called me back.” The change in his tone was so dramatically different she doubted she was speaking to the same person who had picked up the phone at first.

  “Well, I got your message.”

  “Wonderful,” he said. “Are you free tomorrow? Friday? I’m in the area and I wouldn’t mind a detour to go see you.”

  A detour? Where was he from? Rebecca thought. There would be a time to ask those questions once they saw each other face to face. “Okay, yes. I’m free.”

  “All right. I’ll pick you up.”

  “Don’t you need my address?”

  Dylan sounded confused at first. “Oh, right. Yes. I’ll need that,” he said, she could tell he was just as apprehensive as she was. “May I have it please?”

  Rebecca gave it to him. She was excited. She wanted to see him. “Can’t wait for Friday,” she mumbled.

  “Me, too. I gotta go, see you soon.”

  Without waiting for her to say goodbye, he hung up.

  He had probably been very busy, she was lucky he had stopped to talk to her. It didn't matter, it as done. She now had a date. This time she would make sure things worked out, failure was not an option.

  Rebecca didn’t teach any classes the first two weeks of August. The studio closed after it finished summer classes to reopen to begin registration two weeks before Labor Day. Coleen had planned to marry just after the summer classes ended to be able to finish the year.

  Perhaps Rebecca wasn’t living her dream of becoming a professional ballet dancer, but at least she hadn’t left dance all together and had a lot of time off. Not only did Mrs. Anderson give her two paid weeks in August, but she also enjoyed her week of Thanksgiving, and two weeks to relax during the winter holidays. Spring break brought with it dance camp for the week. It wasn’t that bad, the class sizes were smaller and there weren’t any evening classes offered. Even if she taught a full schedule during the mornings, at least she could go home earlier than the rest of the year.

  Whenever the dance school closed to the students, Rebecca used it to dance.

  She was the only teacher in the studio, which only had a small reception and a huge dance room that she loved. The room’s best feature was a wide mirror that covered the entire South wall. Whenever all the students were gone she practice choreographies she came up with and practiced until the pain on h
er knee became unbearable. Because she had kept her thin physique, she still fit into the advance class’s recital dresses, which she wore as she danced the morning away fantasizing she was still in New York dancing in front of a thousand people every night.

  It didn’t hurt to dream. What hurt, was her knee. The doctor had warned her if she didn’t stop dancing, she would one day be unable to walk. Rebecca knew the risks, but she didn’t care. To stop dancing would be like killing a part of her.

  That Friday, before Dylan showed up for their date, Rebecca decided not go to the studio. Instead, she spent all morning cleaning up her house, making sure everything was in its place. Living alone meant she didn’t feel pressured to have a tidy house. It was common to find glasses everywhere, and pizza or Chinese food empty boxes lying around.

  When her Nana Greta was still alive, she couldn’t stand a speck of dust. Rebecca was always being harassed by her no matter how clean and tidy she was. Somehow, her grandmother always found something wrong with how she did things, cleaning included. Perhaps that was the reason she’d become such a mess now. More like, it was definitely the reason.

  After lunch, once her house was in a decent state, she spent about an hour trying to decide what to wear. She didn’t own a lot of clothes and the number of fancy dresses in her closet was low. The fancier one she had was the lavender dress she had worn to Coleen’s wedding. It was hanging neatly in her closet, wrapped in plastic.

  Trying on everything she owned, she decided on a yellow summer dress she rarely wore. It was a little tight, and it was old, but she looked amazing in it.

  All of her pre-date activities kept her mind busy. If she hadn’t had so much to do, she would find a hundred and one ways her date with Dylan would go wrong. Finding ways to jeopardize her date wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  Besides, she refused to fail. She had failed enough in her lifetime. For once, she deserved a break. Some deity had sent Dylan her way, and she intended to see their relationship work.

  By seven o’clock she fell on the couch, exhausted but ready to unravel the mystery that was Dylan Torrence. She got dressed, wore her only pair of high-heeled sandals, and even put make-up on.

  And then, she waited.

  And waited. She sat on the living room sofa, that ugly, old sofa her grandmother had bought before she’d come live with her, and read the book she had checked out of the library a few days ago.

  By eight o’clock she was getting a little hungry. Thinking Dylan would be there at any minute, she didn’t want to spoil her appetite. Still, she put her book down to see if there was anything she could nibble on in the pantry. Some crackers and a microwaveable bag of popcorn tempted her, but she thought better of it.

  What if Dylan took her out some place nice? If he asked where she wanted to go, she knew what her answer would be. The town didn’t have that many choices to eat out, but her favorite was an Italian restaurant called La Luna. It was the most romantic of all the available restaurants there and the only one where they served pasta. Rebecca loved pasta.

  It was also the most expensive restaurant around, which meant Rebecca seldom got to eat there; she couldn’t afford it. Her grandmother had left her some money when she’d passed, but she hardly ever took it out of the bank. It was her safety net money. She had once used it when a pipe had burst in the kitchen. There had also been a time where the roof’s shingles needed replacing, and when her car engine had stopped running and it needed a new one. Those things were expensive, and she was lucky her inheritance money was there to cover them.

  A spaghetti craving wasn’t an emergency, no matter how wonderful it was, and if she wanted her savings to last, she needed to be smart.

  Now, she had no idea how much money FBI agents made, but she was sure it would be enough for a visit to Mr. Voleri’s restaurant.

  Her stomach rumbled. Rebecca turned to look at the door, eager for the doorbell to ring.

  Nothing.

  Dylan looked like a busy man, and was surely late because of some crime or unresolved case. She understood. Besides, he would have called if he was going to be late. Right? Looking at the clock, she saw the minute hand close to reaching nine o’clock.

  It had been a long day, and she was tired, especially in that dress. Her back hurt because it was a little too tight, and she was tired of walking around the house in those high heels. Even if Dylan showed up, it would be too late to go to La Luna, anyway. Mr. Voleri didn’t take anymore customers after 9:00 p.m.

  Such a shame, she had been looking forward to a good meal that night.

  She had been watching TV when she decided the dress was getting too uncomfortable for her. She couldn’t stand it anymore. It was about to be nine o’clock. It was too late for any date. Maybe Dylan couldn't call or he’d forgotten to call. Or he’d forgotten the date.

  Slipping into something more comfortable, Rebecca left the yellow dress for a t-shirt and sweatpants, she traded her high heels for a pair of flip-flops. From the pantry, she took out a bag of popcorn, placing it in the microwave and starting the heat.

  If Dylan showed up, she could invite him to her living room to watch a movie with a bucket of popcorn. If that didn’t work, then maybe he wasn’t for her. Rebecca had never been a night owl, turning in after ten was rare. She would try to stay awake as long as she could to wait for him, but she couldn’t make any promises.

  By nine o’clock the sun had set. It took longer to turn dark during the summer days and she liked that. Daylight was way better than the dark. She wasn’t fond of the winter months, when the nights lasted more than the days, so she enjoyed the daylight while she could.

  The popcorn bag finished popping, the smell of butter now permeated the house. The microwave rang.

  Or was it the doorbell?

  Once more, she heard a ring.

  Was it possible? Could it be Dylan outside?

  For a second Rebecca contemplated ignoring his call. If the lights hadn’t been on, she would have pretended to be asleep. Unfortunately, the TV was on, the popcorn had just rang, and Dylan surely heard movement inside the house.

  Leaving the popped bag on the kitchen counter, Rebecca went to answer the door.

  “Hi.” Dylan wore a suit similar to the one he had worn for Coleen’s wedding. It might as well be the same one. Clearly, he was dressed for more than a night in front of the TV. Standing in front of her, she noticed him studying her from head to toe, “You’re not ready?”

  That was the last drop. Narrowing her eyes, Rebecca felt furious. Every feeling she had been hiding while she waited decided to come out at very moment. It was all his fault, now it was too late for the Italian restaurant she had yearned to go. Not just that, was he trying to blame her by scrutinizing her clothes? “This town closes shop in less than an hour, Dylan. I'm dressed this way because you're late. We’re not going anywhere. Not anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” Dylan looked truly confused. “Closes shop? What shop?”

  “The restaurants, that’s what!” she raised her voice at him. “The seven restaurants that exist in this town close at ten o’clock. It’s past nine o’clock and I’m not wearing my dress!”

  Dylan looked perplexed, yet somehow calm. “I don’t think I’m late, and I thought we were going out. Why are you wearing sweat pants? Are those… pajamas?”

  This only infuriated her more. “Really? That’s your question? Am I wearing pajamas?”

  “Well, yes,” he said. “I thought I was taking you out to dinner. I assumed you would wear something more appropriate. ”

  “For your information, mister,” an agitated Rebecca pointed to his chest, “I was wearing a nice dress until about… twenty minutes ago.”

  “I don’t understand, then. Why did you change?”

  “What are you, five?”

  Dylan cocked his head to one side. “Why do ask that?”

  “Ask what?” growled Rebecca.

  “You ask me if I’m a child. It’s clear I’m not.”

/>   “Because you make little sense, that’s why!”

  Dylan watched her anger and smiled. “Fine. Look, do you want to go out or not?”

  Was his skull that thick? Why couldn’t he understand how he had failed her? It was obvious, wasn’t it? He was late to their first date! That was the problem, why couldn’t he see it? He said he was coming at… at… wait a minute. He hadn’t told her what time, had he?

  With another growl, Rebecca left Dylan standing at the door. “Don’t leave,” she told him, disappearing inside the house shutting the door behind her.

  Dylan did as he was told.

  “Becca.” The all too familiar voice called her name one more time before she opened her eyes.

  The pain was gone. Totally gone. It was incredible to believe she had even been in pain only a few seconds before.

  “It is over?” As she moved her limbs, she found her body still ached, but the pain was one-tenth of what it had been.

  “Almost.” Watching him smile, she felt his hand on her forehead. His warm touch felt safe and comforting and, as she looked at his face again, she knew everything would be all right.

  The diner was almost empty when Dylan opened the door to let Rebecca in. It was an old-fashioned place that had been in town since the fifties. Even when the architecture looked from that period, the inside of the little restaurant looked new and modern.

  Rebecca stepped inside and offered a nervous smile at the owner, a woman she had known all her life and who everybody in the town called Millie. She didn't return the smile, and instead stared carefully at the man that entered the diner after her. Apart from a young couple sitting on a table next to a window, the place was deserted. Glancing at the whispering couple, Rebecca assumed everyone would know about her date with a strange man the next day. She wouldn’t be surprised if her name appeared on the social column of the newspaper the next morning.

  Reluctantly, Rebecca lead Dylan to the table farthest away from the door, the one next to the restrooms. The diner hadn’t been what Rebecca had initially wanted, but it was the only place she knew that would serve them so late at night.