Start Over: A Novel (Start Again Series #2)

by J. Saman

  “I don’t want the lecture.”

  “I’m not here for that and you know it.”

  Ryan pours himself a hefty shot and we silently drink them down.

  “I fucked it all up. Again,” I say, unable to handle this a minute longer. I’m so angry. So goddamn angry, but so wrecked with despair and bitterness that I can’t see anything but her.

  “Did she end it or did you?”

  “We did a lot of back and forth with that, but in the end, she was just looking for me to give in and open up to her. To be honest with her, and instead of doing that, I pushed her away and left.”

  It’s too bad I don’t smoke, because this certainly feels like the time a cigarette would be a good thing. Sort of goes hand in hand with misery, self-loathing, and whiskey, right?

  “Why?”

  I slam my palm down on the bar, enjoying the small sting that accompanies it. “Why what, man? Why didn’t I open up, or why did I push her away?” Ryan just looks at me, patiently and expectantly. His Zen is starting to piss me off. “Don’t give me that look. You know the answer to both.”

  Ryan pours us each another shot, and then sits back in his stool, holding his glass up like he’s examining the color of the cheap whiskey I picked.

  “I wouldn’t be honest if I told you that I only know what you’ve told me over the years, because I know more than that.” I’m not surprised by this, but it still bothers me that he looked into my past. “I guess I can’t blame you in one degree for not telling her some of that stuff. I can’t imagine what any of that was like for you, but I don’t think she would look down on you for what happened.”

  I snort incredulous. “What happened? You mean what I did.”

  He shrugs. “You’re the one who has to live with that, and I don’t think you regret the choices you made that night. I know you, Luke. You don’t do anything without thinking it through, even if you know it could end badly.”

  “See.” I turn in my seat to face him, looking at my best friend, wondering just how much he knows and if he were to know all, would he abandon his loyalty to me. “You say that, but I did something and I’ve been paying for it ever since. It all loops together in one never-ending cycle of bad decisions and fuck-ups.”

  Ryan sighs, just a little defeated with me. Screw him, I’m defeated with myself.

  “So you think that if Ivy knew all there is to know, all you can tell her, that she’d end it?” I nod. “So you ended it first before she could?” I nod again. “And you’re not even willing to test that theory?” I shake my head.

  “No, because she’s smart and beautiful and sweet, and so goddamn perfect. She deserves way better than someone like me, and though I lived for a brief period of time pretending I could actually be worthy of her, I know I’m not. My past is what it is, and what I did may in fact be something she can’t overlook. But even if she could, there’s the other thing. This past week away taught me that quite clearly, so despite the fact that letting her go feels like death and disembowelment and anything else unpleasant you can think of, in reality, I’m saving her.”

  “From you?”

  “Yeah. From me.”

  “You’re a stupid bastard, Luke.”

  Ryan downs his drink before slamming the empty glass back on the bar and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He spins on me, grabbing my shoulders in an unrelenting grip, forcing my attention.

  “That fucking girl loves you. She. Loves. You. And I know you love her, possibly more than she loves you. Don’t let that go over some preconceived notion of not deserving her. Does your past suck? Yeah, it really does. But that shit in Oklahoma was a long time ago, and I can’t picture her leaving you over that. As for the shit at Caltech, do you really think I’m stupid enough to believe you got busted and I didn’t for the same crime?”

  He gives me a pointed look before continuing on without waiting for my answer to his rhetorical question.

  “No. I’m not. It’s insulting to my IQ, and we both know I’m a motherfucking genius.” He smirks at me, before it falls just as fast and he turns serious again. “I don’t know exactly who you’re working for or what precisely you’re doing. I don’t even know if they’ve got you for life or not. But you’ve been doing it for ten years, and so far you’ve managed a pretty normal existence. You don’t have to tell Ivy all the details. You just have to tell her enough so she knows you’re a team, that you’re with her and trust her.”

  Ryan lets me go and instantly I crumble against the bar.

  “I don’t know if I can do that. I’m desperate to make this right. For her and for us. But what if I can’t? What if it’s not possible? I want to marry her, Ryan. I’ve only really known her a month, but that’s all I can think about,” I laugh without humor. “That’s some crazy shit right there. But I’m the bad guy and she’s my angel, and instead of being sent to save my soul, redeem me, I’ll end up being her downfall.”

  “How do you figure that, Drama Queen?” Ryan is not impressed with me and I can’t say I blame him. I’m not impressed with me either.

  “Pour me another one, would ya?” He obliges me, but I know he’s not going to let my little speech go. “I messed up. I was arrogant, and though I spent four years in juvie, I thought I was untouchable. But I wasn’t then and I’m not now.”

  “One of these days you’re going to have to realize you’re not a monster. That you’re actually a really incredible man who’s made a few bad choices along the way. That doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of her. That doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be happy.”

  “Maybe,” I shrug. “But that doesn’t change the world I’d be bringing her into and that,” I point at him. “That is inexcusable.”

  “And you can’t get out now that you’re in?”

  “I don’t know, Ryan. I don’t think so. I plan to try like hell. She’s worth everything that will entail. But even if I could, it wouldn’t change what I’ve done. And I don’t know how to tell her about that.”

  “So you’re letting her go,” he says again.

  “I’m letting her go.” For now.

  He sighs, running a hand through his hair and finishing off his drink. “Then why did you go after her again, man?”

  “I didn’t know how not to. I’ve wanted her for a decade and then suddenly, she was there.” I wave my hand in the air.

  “So you’re letting her go,” he says again and right now, I sort of want to punch him for it. Just sort of, because I still love the asshole, but come the hell on.

  I twist to him, facing him fully and staring him directly in his green eyes. “I asked you once if you were me and Ivy was Kate, if you would try to move forward with things. Do you remember that?” He nods once, but it’s short and almost curt. “Your answer was, “I don’t know”. Has that changed or are you just pushing this because you think Ivy and I make a cute couple? I love her enough to let her go. That’s the only reason I can do it. I love her more than I love anything in the whole world, and that certainly includes myself. So answer me again, if it were you, would you go forward?”

  Ryan deflates, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his glasses. That’s his go-to when he’s tense or uncomfortable, and clearly I’m making him both. But it’s a legitimate question and I think I want a real answer, so I wait him out.

  “I can’t answer that. Only you know what you’re involved in.” That’s a bullshit response, but I don’t bother calling him out on it. “For what it’s worth, I still think you’re wrong about your past. I still think you should tell her and see what she does, because I know she’ll end up surprising you.”

  “Bullshit!” I snap. “My goddamn mother still doesn’t speak to me.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you on that. I think that could be related to her own guilt, but maybe I’m wrong. I don’t want to see this eat you alive, and I have a bad feeling that it will.”

  I laugh out, the alcohol starting to take over. “Nah man, just give me another de
cade and I’ll be straight.”

  “What happened this week, Luke? What is it that changed everything for you and Ivy?”

  “You know I can’t tell you that.”

  “Did you kill anyone?”

  I let out a great big guffaw at that. “No, that’s a one and done thing.”

  He nods, evidently he does know my story.

  “Did you steal from people? Cheat them out of anything?”

  “Nope. That’s one I’ve never done, believe it or not.”

  “Are you committing treason? Going against the government or setting our world up for war?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, guy. Technically that’s what I’m working to prevent.”

  “Then I can’t think of anything that would drive her away.”

  I laugh at that. “In case you missed the memo, Ryan, she’s already leaving. She’s gone as of the middle of next week. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this. It was supposed to be casual and fun and then she was going to leave and we were both going to be fine. But I’m not fine. And neither is she. And it’s entirely my fault. She will never understand that I’m trying to protect her by doing this.”

  I pour myself another drink only to slam it back without giving it a moment to rest.

  “But that’s not what happened. And you could be with her, even though it will be long distance.”

  “If it were all that simple, maybe I would. Maybe if I weren’t involved with certain things, but I am. And as we’ve already established, it can’t be changed. At least not yet. And what I do puts me in danger. Imagine that shit on Ivy. You remember that month of my life that I was gone?” He doesn’t respond, but I know he does. It freaked him out, big time. He even tried to find me. “That I suddenly vanished without explanation? Let’s just say I wasn’t living the high life at some resort doing cute and cuddly hacks for shits and giggles.” He looks stricken, which tells me my point has been made. “Yeah, not exactly relationship material right there. I need to change it and until I can do that, if I can do that, I can’t be with her.”

  My eyes slam shut and the weight of the last fifteen years of my life crushes my chest. I’ve never admitted anything to anyone. Never uttered the words once. Not even when I’ve been questioned directly.

  Ryan’s not surprised. Not even a little. For some odd reason, that makes me smile. “That was two years ago, Luke. Nothing like that has happened since. All of that sounds worse than your present reality.”

  “Maybe, but the foundation is true, and that’s all that matters where Ivy is concerned. She’s too good for me. I don’t deserve her.”

  “You’ve said that already, and it’s still bullshit.”

  “I’ve pushed her away too many times. She’ll never take me back.” Now I’m getting to the self-pity part. I can’t think like that. I have to think that she’ll take me back eventually.

  “I don’t know the answer to that,” he points at me. “But neither do you. You’ll regret this forever.”

  “That’s the funny thing, Ryan,” I turn to look my friend in the eyes. “That’s all I ever do. I live in a permanent world of regret over stupid choices. Maybe I can redeem myself and maybe I can’t, but the way my life works, the way my luck works, she’ll be long gone by then.”

  Ryan drives me home. I left my car at the bar because I am far too inebriated to drive. I immediately walk into my room, stare at the rumpled sheets of the bed that I never made after the last time Ivy slept here and dive face first into them. I figure if I’m going to torture myself, I might as well do it right.

  It’s been almost a week, but they still smell like her.

  I didn’t sleep much in the days I was away. I never do when they have me sequestered on that boat. Boat, ha. I almost want to laugh at that. It’s a fucking yacht registered to some rich prick that doesn’t exist anywhere but on paper. But the people I work for are very competent at selling a bill of goods and coming out looking squeaky clean.

  That is their job after all.

  My job is another step in the game.

  You read about China hacking some American corporation or Russia hacking our government emails or Israel hacking Iranian nuclear facilities—kudos to them on that one. You hear about all these things, but rarely do you hear about what our government does.

  We play it off like we’re above all that espionage hacking bullshit, but we’re not.

  We hack everyone. Foreign governments, private groups like Anonymous who think they’re above it all, WikiLeaks—damn those assholes are arrogant, good, but arrogant. You name it, we’ve got a hand in it and that hand just happens to be mine.

  Am I proud of what I do? I’m more ambivalent than proud.

  Do I feel like anything I do has even the slightest benefit on national or international security? Who the hell knows?

  So why do it, you might ask.

  Well, I don’t have a choice.

  I went to that address at three o’clock in the afternoon, like those motherfuckers in the coffee shop demanded, on a perfect California day and walked into a meeting with the last person I ever expected to see again.

  Ronaldo Sanchez.

  Even his name is over the top.

  I met him when I was fourteen years old on my second day of juvie. The fact that he had that name, was way older than appropriate for a juvenile detention facility, and his Spanish accent wavered, should have tipped me off, but it didn’t. This was Oklahoma for Christ’s sake. The only accents we breed there are twangs that go with our cowboy hats and tall boots. But I was a kid, so I didn’t pay attention all that closely.

  Those four years in juvie were not spent idly.

  I worked my ass off and graduated from high school. Not a GED, mind you, I fucking graduated. That and Ronaldo took me under his wing, giving me a love and appreciation for computers. An outlet for my restless mind.

  The rest I picked up by myself. An innate gift he’d called it. A natural talent.

  Maybe. None of that shit was difficult for me. I was released on my eighteenth birthday, and by that point Ronaldo Sanchez was long gone. He was two years older than me, or so he claimed.

  And after getting accepted to Caltech—still don’t know how I managed that—I took my skills to the next level. So by my junior year, I was the master. The best in the hacking ring. I was cocky as sin. I was invincible and nothing could come close to touching me.

  Hack the government? Sure. Why the hell not?

  But I didn’t stop at the justice department. And I didn’t stop at the White House either. They didn’t pose much of a challenge, so I continued on, especially since no one came knocking at my door, and I was being so very careful, right?

  So the CIA, that could be cool. And it was.

  Because no one goes after mainframes. Do you know why?

  Because they’re old as shit and hard as hell to break into. Companies, and even our government, spend millions securing their servers, cloud system, larger networks and everything else. But those mainframes? Those are like untapped mines filled with gold.

  They’re bursting at the seams with information, and I was good enough and arrogant enough to gain access.

  Sure I went after the other stuff too, but without a lot of challenge I got bored quickly.

  I didn’t do anything with what I found. I wasn’t out for world domination or to bring people—or our government—down. I was there for the fun, for the excitement, for the sick adrenaline rush that is so much better than drugs or sex, or even jumping out of a fucking plane.

  But I wasn’t as clever as I thought I was. Not as invisible, and though I could have sworn I was lurking solely in the shadows, I was really out in the open for all to see.

  Or at least for Ronaldo, who was watching me the entire time.

  So they busted me and then they screwed me, because I was Ronaldo’s guy. He was the man behind the scenes pulling the strings, and I was nothing more than his new puppet.

  Still am for that matter.

>   Yes, I’m sure some of what I’m doing is important. Yes, I’m preventing a lot of bad shit from happening—at least that’s what I tell myself.

  But at what personal cost?

  I’m not allowed to tell anyone what I do or who I work for.

  I’m not allowed to discuss anything I do with anyone.

  I am to leave at a moment’s notice without complaint, nor am I to offer comment when assigned a task.

  And it was made very clear to me that I am a target because of all of this, which means anyone I bring into my life is at risk too. Not necessarily the people I work with or my friends, but a lover, wife, girlfriend? Yeah, they could be in trouble.

  Governments can be vengeful fuckers. Private, wealthy assholes can be too.

  How could I ever live with myself if something happened to Ivy? I couldn’t.

  So I pushed her away after pulling her toward me, despite falling in love with her so effortlessly.

  My head is spinning, or maybe that’s just the alcohol.

  All I smell is the whiskey emanating from my pores, permeating the air around me with the pungent stink I love and hate. That smell will always and forever remind me of my father. Fucking motherfucker.

  Yes, Dad, I blame you for everything.

  What kind of man beats his wife and children?

  What kind of man wants to ruin his daughter?

  Ryan was right about one thing though; I do not regret every choice I made.

  I just wish it didn’t cost me Ivy.

  And as if the gods of irony hear my plight, my special black phone rings.

  Chapter 22

  Ivy

  Originally I was scheduled to move on Monday, but then I pushed it back to Wednesday because I figured the more time I got to spend with Luke, the better. But that all went to hell. Now I see no reason in prolonging the inevitable, which is why I moved it back up to Monday.

  So here I am with my last day of this fellowship behind me, and it felt nothing but anticlimactic. It felt like a waste of a day and a graduation. Any excitement I should be effusing is non-existent. Any pride I should be showcasing is now not-so-mysteriously absent.