Game of Love (31 page)

The paparazzi waited outside the PM’s residence. Andre and Gemma rushed into the car, and Glen took off. Yet again, he was doing all he could to lose the tails.

During the ride back, Gemma wordlessly cuddled in Andre’s arms and closed her eyes. Andre lay his chin on her head and tried to moderate his erratic heartbeat. With each conversation, each visit, each day, and passing moment, he wanted more from her. Unlike anyone else, she accepted him as he was. She treated him like she needed him–not something from him, but him, his presence. And that concerned him.

She was a busy and committed professional who led a life that did not accommodate relationships. As for him, he would have to disappear for months. How would that play out with her?

No matter how he looked at it, this was not the right time. Unless… could he cut his ties with M&T sooner without evoking the early termination penalties? Could he have it all?

Over the past couple days, he had been considering options and alternatives. He would have never considered it before, but with her in his life, he realized new tactics would need to be considered. Could his idea work?

If he truly believed he had to live in the moment, then how could he justify holding off his feelings for her for another six months? He could barely stay away from her for six hours.

She opened her eyes, sat up, then turned to him. “Sorry, I must have crashed.”

“It’s okay.”

She studied his eyes. “Are you okay? You look lost in thought.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“I’d like to hear what’s on your mind.”

He took a deep breath. “In about six months, my contract with my firm ends. It’s gotten ugly for me lately. All I can think of is the end of my contract.”

“You’d quit your career?”

“Yes.”

“Just like that? This is your talent, your gift.”

“I’m not quitting my talent. Just the way I’ve exploited myself.”

“I see. What would you do if you quit?”

“Sleep for a few days.”

“If it’s bad, then why even wait? Can’t you just leave?”

“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’ve made commitments and if I broke them now, let’s just say it would be problematic. To top it all off, I have a significant project coming up which will bury me for three to four months. I have to see that one through before I leave them.”

“A project that’ll last three to four months?” She continued to study him. “How will that work? What I mean is, will I be able to see you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I am not overwhelmed with confidence.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“I certainly hope so. Otherwise…” She kissed the side of his lips. “I may have to take matters into my own hands.” Then she nibbled his lip.

Suddenly the car accelerated and the privacy window lowered. Gemma spun around.

“Ma’am, paparazzi on motorcycle approaching on the right.”

She immediately slid a few feet away.

They locked eyes. He pointed to the wide space between them. “What happened?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t want pictures of us in tomorrow’s tabloids.”

“Gemma, are we always going to have to stay apart when there’s another living soul around us?”

She broke off eye contact for a few moments. “Maybe. Sometimes.”

“When will you and I be able to spend time together? No Tish. No event with other people. Just us.”

“Tomorrow,” she said. “Definitely maybe tomorrow.”

Once again, they separated in less than ideal circumstances. Fortunately Andre’s hotel hadn’t been discovered by the paparazzi yet, but the threat of their potent lenses kept Gemma nervous throughout the rest of the ride.

Once in the elevator, Andre felt more alone than ever. He wanted to be with her, yet, they continued to scurry apart like roaches. How long would it have to be this way?

Once in his room, he called his dad.

“Did you call Linda?”

Silence.

“Dad?”

“I will call her when I’m ready. I’m busy working on something. When I’m done doing that, then I’ll call her.”

“You’re kidding, right? It’s been almost six years. Six. And you’re busy working on something.”

“I know how long it’s been. You don’t think I remember my only brother? You don’t think I miss him?”

This was the first time Andre had ever heard his father express any type of sincere emotion for his brother. “Then why do you always talk about him like you hated him?”

“Because I was mad at him.”

“Mad?”

“What I would have given to have his brain. He had thousands of ideas. I hoped I’d have something, anything like him. But nothing. I got nothing. When I tried to convince him to take some of his ideas and start a business together, he was not interested. He didn’t want to even try. And you know why?”

Andre said nothing.

“Because he was scared. So when you showed the same capabilities, he tried to scare you too, but I wouldn’t let him. He was trying to stop you from reaching your potential. I loved him. But hated him too. He had a gift and he threw it away. I’d rather die than to let you do the same.”

“He may have disagreed with you and mom, but he always loved you.”

“And I loved him too. I will always love him even though I never told him.”

“You can tell his daughter. Or his wife.”

“One day I will.”

“Then what are you waiting for? Linda is your only remaining connection to your brother. A blood connection.”

“What I’m waiting for is for all of you to stop bothering me about this. I will do what I have to do first. Then and only then will I talk to them.” The phone line went dead.

Why was it so hard to do the right thing? Linda had already given up. She wasn’t resentful about it. Just resigned.

Andre tossed his phone on the bed then grabbed his laptop. Within a few minutes, he was logged into NSA’s web server. Time to see if his application had penetrated Gemma’s circle. Like a virus, once one contact caught it, the others got infected as well, and the friend, and the friend of the friend.

His application crawled into the data exchange layer of the contact in question. All communication was captured and loaded into NSA’s proprietary multi-threaded, neural mapped, pattern-matching engine.

Eighteen percent penetration in four hours was a good sign. It meant a lot of activity and chatter. Based on past experience, at sixty percent, the data produced interesting heuristics, although sometimes luck walked in and delivered unexpected results.

He was analyzing the data when something caught his eye. “Hello.” He cocked his head then covered his mouth, analyzing a stream of unexpected communication. “What have we here?”

“To hell with circumstances; I create opportunities.”
~Bruce Lee

emma shouldn’t have, but she called off the late afternoon practice and texted Andre instead. He had been right the night before. Isn’t that why she had brought him here? To be together, alone?

Mid-afternoon was a perfect time to go to the Hurlingham Club. Exclusive and practically empty at this hour–except for the octogenarians who never seemed to notice her and her type. The lush grounds were awe-inspiring, the food prepared by world-class chefs, the security tighter than most palaces, and the staff discreet.

They nestled into a booth.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Gemma started.

“I thought you’d never ask. I like to take long strolls on the beach, my favorite color is black, if I was a vegetable I’d be a–”

She pinched his arm.

“Ouch.” He rubbed his arm. “Man, you’re violent.”

“Now that we have a common understanding, let’s start with the things I want to know. Are there others in your family who have shown some of your talents?”

“Yes.”

This was perfect. She had often wondered about her athletic gifts and if what she had was genetic.

“My uncle–Linda’s dad–was one of those scary-smart math guys. When he was in third grade he was studying calculus.”

“That sounds horrible. Like child-abuse.”

He eyed her. “By third grade you were beating fifteen-year-old kids at tennis. What do you call that?”

“Don’t change the subject. I’m interrogating you.”

If his talent was inherited, then maybe she also had inherited her athletic gifts. This would support the idea that maybe her real father had indeed been a professional footballer.

“Of course, I didn’t know about his gifts until they moved from Argentina to LA. I found out because he and my dad got into arguments over me. The sad part was my parents called him a loser, afraid, you name it.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes. They didn’t want me to be influenced by him and follow in his footsteps. The way they saw it, he had wasted a one in a million talent when he decided to become a teacher instead of some money-making businessman. And yet, when I was eleven, I met Prime Minister Beckford through my uncle. Not bad for a loser.”

“You admire your uncle.”

“Admire. Love. I spent practically every summer with them, whether in Argentina or in Spain. Those were the best days of my life. He was the warm version of my dad–the one I actually wanted to live with.”

“Things aren’t well with you and your parents?”

“Sort of. I guess. Don’t get me wrong; I respect them. In their own way, they thought they were doing the right thing. And I can’t deny what I have today is because of them. As I talk about it, I’m conflicted. Love and animosity can’t co-exist in one space.” He raked his hands through his hair.

“Should I stop?” she asked.

“You can ask anything.”

“You’ll regret giving me that much freedom.”

“I don’t live life with regret.”

She couldn’t make the same claim. She had plenty of regrets. “Have things improved now between your parents and uncle?”

He paused for a few moments, until his eyes glistened. “Nearly six years ago, my uncle and his oldest daughter were driving home when a drunk kid smashed into them. They both passed away.”

“Oh, Andre, I’m so sorry.”

“Life is fragile, Gem. One day I had them, the next I didn’t. And I guess in some ways, when I lost him, I also lost my way; he was my moral compass. But when you think of poor Linda… five years after she lost her sister and father, she lost her fiancé.”