I give a little huff before clicking back on. “I’m not saying you have to be Mother Bird, I was just giving an example,” I defend.
I think I hear him sigh, but it could just be the radio static. “Give me a better one,” he demands, and I stare at the radio for a second, wracking my brain for a macho call sign that has minimum potential to offend a dude. “How about...Maverick and Goose?” I offer, feeling quite proud.
“Are you one of those weird bird people?”
“What? No, Goose from Top Gun, not an actual goose.”
“Oh…” the noticeably delicious voice muses. I’ve never heard such a sinfully sexy voice before, but his tone has a way of heating you up inside. And I’m not saying that I’m imagining what he looks like naked, but...buns of steel, chiseled abs, and at least ten inches down south.
“Wait, doesn’t he die?” he asks, pulling me out of my momentary mental perving.
I blink and pull the radio away from my mouth and give it my best WTF look. Is this dude serious? I look around once again, checking for hidden cameras. The Xena costume and this weird interaction is seriously tipping the scales to crazy. I count to ten, giving Ashton Kutcher plenty of time to leap out of the bushes and yell, “Burn! You’ve been punked!”
Nothing happens.
“Look, if you don’t like my call sign options, then just pick your own,” I finally radio back as I start to move further inside the cemetery. As much fun as going back and forth with Mr. Deep and Delicious on the radio is, I should probably get my bearings before it gets too dark to make out the details of this place.
Past the gate and a surprising patch of overgrown grass, I find a stone path, and I follow along, guided by the tall hedges that border it. The hedges suddenly end, but the path continues, and I step out into a massive graveyard. It’s breathtaking.
Tall trees and ornate headstones are scattered all over the grounds, and I spot several large mausoleums spread around the well-kept grounds. This place is huge, and I can see it bordering a dense tree line in the distance. Some people would probably think this place is creepy. And yeah, there is a slightly eerie vibe, but I’m not bothered in the slightest. Just as I expected, there’s a quiet, solemn beauty to it all that I appreciate.
“Iceman,” suddenly blurts out from my radio.
I jump in alarm, forgetting I’m holding the damn thing. “Huh?”
“I’ll go by Iceman,” the mystery man on the other side of the radio repeats, and I shake my head at him as a smile stretches across my face.
“Okay, Iceman it is,” I confirm, trying not to chuckle. “So, Iceman, anything else I need to know about this gig other than to call you if I need help?”
“Just make sure the gate is secure. We’ll know after tonight if you’re a good fit for the gate. That’s about it.”
Something in his tone and the statement good fit for the gate sets off my spidey senses. It’s like the graveyard is going to decide if I’m a good employee, which is just weird, but there’s no way I’m going to go all twenty questions and try to start interrogating this dude. He misspoke; I don’t want to make things awkward by pointing that out. I need to fit in on whatever team Ms. Atwood mentioned if I want this job to work, and I really need that to happen.
I look back toward the gate at the cemetery’s entrance and try to identify what about it requires so much protection. It’s just a black wrought iron gate. It looks to be shut securely to me, so I simply shrug and then continue with my efforts to become more acquainted with the area that I’m now responsible for watching over.
“Sounds like a plan,” I finally respond. “Are you the head of security?”
I’m guessing he must be if I’m reporting to him. He’s probably in some plush office right now, pretending to watch security cameras while he eats chips and plays games on his phone. I’m sure he’s not dressed in all leather, either. Lucky bastard.
“Something like that,” he replies vaguely. “Over.”
Ha! I knew “over” was a thing. Wait...did I just get dismissed?
“Double over,” I quickly reply.
Static ensues before I hear, “You can’t double over. It’s just over, and I already said it.”
Wow. Someone is getting testy. He must have run out of Candy Crush lives already.
“I can do my own ‘over’ after your ‘over’ if I want to,” I say with a frown.
There’s a long pause. A really, really long pause.
Why am I even arguing with him? Are these tight as fuck pants cutting off the circulation to my brain?
“Just go do your job, Maverick. Be sure to stay alert. Over,” he finally responds.
Yep, I definitely annoyed him already. Look at me, making friends so seamlessly.
I blow a few purple strands of hair that rebelled against my pony tail, out of my face. I stare at the radio for a moment, trying to come up with something that will have my potential boss or coworker less annoyed with me, but I come up with nothing, so I figure it’s better to just stop before I dig myself any deeper. I replace the radio back into the holster on my hip belt and decide to do exactly as instructed.
The sun dips lower and lower as I make my way around, and the various bright colors that paint the sky slowly give way to the dark purples and blues of impending night. I let my eyes adjust as the sun tucks in for bed, and the almost full moon begins to work its magic in the sky.
My eyesight has always been pretty good in the dark, so I’m not worried about being out here all night. I liked that about the bar scene, too. The low lighting thing
