Carol Summer propped her elbows up on the table and leaned forward so she could take a long sip from her margarita. Her windbreaker and suit blazer were hung over the back of her chair. Her sleeves were rolled up, and her hair was down. But her Special Agent badge still dangled from the chain around her neck.

“Easy now,” said Terry as the contents of her glass quickly fell below the ice line. “I’m not against carrying you out of here, but my back’s not as good as it used to be.” The only response she gave him was the sound of her straw sucking the last few drops of margarita from the bottom of the glass. “So, how’d your talk with Director Kepler go?”

“About as good as you’d expect,” said Summer, picking up the glass and taking a big lick of the salt rim.

“So it’s out of your hands,” said Terry shrugging and making a dismissive gesture. “Forget about it. There’s nothing you can do, so why stress?”

Summer bit into a lime and said through pursed lips, “I can do something. He just won’t let me. I know she’s up to something. I know it!”

“Listen,” said Terry, pushing a fresh bowl of guacamole toward her. “You’ve been after this girl for how long now? Three years? Give it a rest!”

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s not about what happened between us. It’s my job. And I just … know. I just know she’s up to something.”

“You’re job?” said Terry, plucking a tortilla chip from the basket in front of her. “Don’t bullshit me, Babe. You picked this job. You picked it, and you’ve been trying to nail her on something, but you just can’t accept the fact that she’s retired. She quit. She took her money and ran off to enjoy it. And who are we to hold it against her? Good for her!” He scooped up a mound of guacamole with his chip and put the whole thing in his mouth.

“Bull shit, Terry? Bull shit? You think it’s bull shit that ground zero is right in her backyard? And what about that Bellagio, huh? You think it’s a coincidence that she shows up in the lobby of the Bellagio, the same day Howard Kepler is checking out and getting ready to fly to Groom Lake? The same day with her old pal, James Lakewood is arriving?”

“I’m just saying,” said Terry, holding up his hands passively, but Summer cut in before he could say more.

“And what about the kid? Booker. He’s a nobody. A nothing. His dad works at Groom Lake and has the most infuriatingly clean record I’ve ever seen. We know the Mom is screwing her tennis coach, but we have nothing on the kid. Nothing! Why would she bring him here if she didn’t have a reason?”

Terry shook his head. “Joanna’s a pretty screwed up kinda lady. Maybe she’s into the younger ones.”

“It’s not that,” said Summer, taking another lick of salt from her empty margarita glass. “He’s got to be a scapegoat of some kind. That’s something she would do, don’t you think?”

“Babe,” he said.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Carol, then,” said Terry. “You’ve got all these ideas and suspicion rattling around in your head, but have you ever taken a moment to consider that maybe, just maybe, Joanna is enjoying a nice weekend off in Las Vegas?”

Summer held up her empty glass and looked around for a waiter or busboy. Terry watched her, one hand resting on the top of his own glass. He tapped his wedding ring against the rim in an absent sort of way. She hated it when he did that.

“Think about it,” said Terry. “Why go to Vegas? It’s not that uncommon a thing to do for people in San Diego. The flight’s less than an hour, and if you want to drive you can make it in a day. There’s a fight tomorrow. Big crowds, big money, and lots of excitement. It’s a good weekend to come.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Summer scoffed and set her empty glass down on the table and began munching on a handful of dry tortilla chips.

“And the Bellagio is the Bellagio. People with money go to the Bellagio. Where the hell else is she gonna go? The Hilton? We know she’s got all kinds of money. Maybe she’s just trying to show this kid a good time.”

“Sure,” said Summer, through a mouthful of chips.

“And about the kid - You know what kind of life she comes from. I bet she’s looking for just about any kind of friend she can find right about now. Anyone that can distract her for a few hours out of the day. She’s probably going batshit crazy cooped up in that beach house all on her own, and she’s looking for some kind of way to blow off steam. The kid was available, so there you go.”

“Exactly!” said Summer, her fist pounding the table. “She is going crazy. She can’t stand it! That’s why she came here! She knows what’s going on! She knows Groom Lake, and she knows about the Gala. It’s the perfect time to make a move. To break in. She’s trying to break in, she’s trying to steal something, or do something, and she’s trying to do it right under everyone’s noses. You said it yourself – she’s going crazy with nothing to do! She’s got to do something! It’s what she’s trained to do! You can’t untrain a person like her. People like her don’t just retire!”

“Babe, listen. What happened with the two of you-”

“This has nothing to do with that!” said Summer. She’d said it louder than she’d intended, and people from the surrounding tables looked around in alarm. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, feeling her heart racing.

In a calm voice, Terry said, “Okay. I’m just saying, Joanna’s a part of the system. She’s got friends in high places, and I’m not saying it’s fair what happened. I’m just saying that she was following orders. That’s what people like her do. She may not deserve to have been let go, let alone given a mound of cash so she could bury her head in the sand, but that’s what happened. And at the end of the day, y'all were both fighting for good ol’ Uncle Sam, so that means you were on the same team.”

A waiter dropped off another margarita in front of Summer, and she picked it up immediately and took a lick off the salt rim before taking a huge swig.

“Babe, come on. It’s time to let it go. Your boss doesn’t care about her. The CIA doesn’t care about her. I don’t care about her. It’s just you. You’re the one that still cares. And I get it. But you’ve got to let it go.”

Summer took a deep breath and slammed her glass down on the counter without meaning to. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking down at the salty margarita that had splashed on her wrist. “I’m sorry. Maybe you’re right. I need to let it go. I just … I just know that she-”

“I know,” said Terry, picking up a napkin and whipping the margarita off her hand. “But look at it this way; You got an extra week’s worth of vacation for free! We’re in Vegas! What do’ya say? Go crazy with me. What happens in Vegas and all that.”

Summer cracked a smile. “It’s not a good thing. Kepler’s had it up to here with me. Pretty soon I think he’s gonna have me transferred.”

Terry laughed. “Let’s just take it for what it is. You got time off. I’ll take some time off. Let’s see where it goes.”

Summer grinned in spite of herself, biting her straw. Terry was saying something about the pool at the hotel and how she needed a new bikini before they hit the hot tub that night when a commotion from the bar caught her attention. The bartender had thrown his arms up high and was yelling with excitement. It could have been a reaction to the game playing on the TV above him, but what he said caused her to look around. “Look at this guy! Get over here! Get over here you bird brain!”

The bartender walked out from behind his bar to greet a large, dark-skinned man who had just walked into the restaurant. The newcomer was bald, wearing a sandy-colored Hawaiian shirt, and a gold watch shone on his wrist. Above the watch, on top of the man’s hand, was a tattoo of a round eagle’s eye.

“Oh. My. God,” said Summer in a low voice.

“What?” said Terry, looking around to see the pair of men embrace in a tight hug by the bar. “Is that who I think it is?”

The bartender was saying something about it being too long since they last saw each other. “You working?” said the Bartender, raising an eyebrow in a prying sort of way.

The man laughed and said something about not being able to talk about it but gave the bartender an exaggerated wink and laughed again. “Just doing a favor for an old friend of mine.” Summer stood up, seizing the blazer and windbreaker from the back of her chair.

Terry said, “No, Babe. It’s a coincidence!”

“I gotta go, Terry,” she said, swinging the windbreaker over her shoulders.

Terry got to his feet too. “Carol, he does work for all kinds of-”

Summer seized his chin with her hand and kissed him hard on the lips. When she let go, Terry stood there with his eyes shut and his hand still raised to stop her. She patted his cheek and said, “I’ll call you.” Then she left the restaurant.