LGTBQIA2S+ Author, Blogger, Runner
I don’t know about you, but 2022 seemed to fly by. It might not have been the year that I’d hoped it would be, but it wasn’t a complete write off, either. Looking back, 2022 offered some really memorable moments… [Read more…] about A Final Shoutout to 2022
This is a continuation of ‘An Uneasy Alliance‘
Ten minutes after leaving Josh and Brian, Michael mentally scrutinized the plan to which they’d just agreed. Well, he had laid out a plan that was, he could see now, far from perfect. Even though Josh and Brian hadn’t protested, perhaps their silence signalled their uncertainty about his assessment. Did he believe it himself? He ran through in his mind everything that had happened since Brian had manifested in front of him that day on St John’s Wood Terrace in London. The pieces kept shifting, some clicking into place, others…
“I’ll be damned!” Michael slammed a fist against the steering wheel. It had become increasingly obvious that they’d all been played, but it was in that moment that all of the pieces finally slid into the right positions. And it blew his mind.
There was no way he could back down now. And despite the imperfections in his own plan, the only choice was to go through with it. He pulled out his phone and placed the first call to Brian. He informed him of the necessity to delay the implementation of their plan by thirty minutes. Brian acquiesced, as did Josh, who Michael called immediately after hanging up on Brian. They needed backup, and for that Michael knew there was only one person he could trust.
“You’re not in bed yet, are you?” he said into the line.
“This day is far from over,” Superintendent Daniels said. “Besides, someone still has Betsy and she’s my ride home. And she better still be in one piece.”
“Mostly.” Michael snickered. “Are you ready to put this mess to bed once and for all?”
“I was ready hours ago,” Daniels said. “Has something changed?”
“Everything’s changed,” Michael confirmed. “I’m sending you an address. I need you and a SWAT team to guard the perimeter. There’s no time to set up any type of surveillance, nothing that would be legal or permissible in court.” He paused long enough to, using just his right thumb, type and send the address. “Sent. But we’ll meet first at the railroad crossing about a kilometre south of the property. You’ll see it. Get there as soon as you can.”
“We’ll be ready to move out in less than ten minutes.”
“Talk soon.” Michael ended the call and placed one more. “Director Platt, it’s Agent Reid. I think we have the break we need…”
His call with the Agency’s interim director lasted five minutes, during which he’d outlined most of what he knew. After first joining the Agency, he’d learned the hard way to always keep some facts close to his chest. Some people were too willing to use anyone to further their career. And it wasn’t that Michael wanted the spotlight on him. Really, he’d give anything to be on the sidelines just to not have his life constantly under threat. But there had been too many leaks, and too may security breaches, that he still had doubts about who to trust.
“Fuck!” he grunted when he glanced at the fuel gauge that hovered over the ‘E.’ A quick survey of his surroundings, he spotted the ESSO sign up ahead and pulled into the lot. Getting out of the police cruiser, he sent a text message and then made one more call.
“Thought you had a lead to run down,” was the caustic greeting on the other end.
“I just sent you an address, Sam,” Michael said bitterly as he twisted off the cap to the gas tank. “If you want the exclusive you asked for, be there in an hour.”
“Jesus, Michael. Google says it’ll take me seventy minutes to get there.”
“Then stop wasting time talking to me and get moving.” Michael ended the call and stared abstractly at the gas pump. Am I wrong? he wondered, not realizing that the gas had stopped pumping. Is there something else I’m missing? No. Angelique Romero had come up with a deceptively clever plan, but he had figured it out. After screwing the gas tank cap back into position, he rushed inside to pay for the gas, then hustled back to the vehicle and sped towards his destination.
Arriving at the rendezvous point in Alexandria, Michael saw Superintendent Daniels speaking with Brian and some of her SWAT officers, the latter dressed in black tactical uniforms. He looked around as he got out of the cruiser. No sign of Sam. Maybe that’s a good thing? No reason for anyone else to get hurt.
Approaching Brian and Daniels, Michael held out the car keys. “I treated Betsy to a full tank of premium gas.”
“Great. Now she’s spoiled.” Daniels grinned as she pocketed the keys, then pointed in the direction of the Coburg Estate. “That place seems to be locked up tight. Might be hard for us to go in unseen.”
“It’s taken care of,” Michael said. “There’s a gate on the east side. It should be unlocked, and the security cameras should also have already been disabled. There’s at least one guard patrolling the sector. You’ll have to take him out, and anyone else you encounter.”
“Understood.” Daniels checked the time. “I’ll text you when we’re in position and have the grounds secured.”
Heads swung in the direction of the bright headlights that briefly blinded them. The car passed them, did a U-turn, and then pulled up behind Daniels’s police cruiser. In the stillness of the night, the crunching of gravel under foot thundered as the man approached cautiously.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Brian growled.
“He’s our insurance,” Michael said, matter-of-fact. When Sam was close enough, he introduced him to Daniels, then added, “Stay close to Brian and I. I don’t really know how this is going to go down, but if I tell you to run, you run. No questions asked. Understood?”
Sam nodded. “Understood.”
“Let’s move!” Michael ordered.
Everyone hurried to their vehicles, although Michael instructed Sam to leave his where it was, and they climbed into Brian’s car. Despite the lateness of the hours, the main gate to the Coburg Estate opened as the vehicle approached. The guard, standing outside the guardhouse, shone his flashlight in their faces before waving them through. No call to the main house. That made Michael’s stomach tighten. Coburg knows I’m coming for him.
Getting out of the car, Michael’s phone vibrated and he pulled it out. It took less time than expected for Daniels and the SWAT team to get into position. He looked at Brian, then Sam. “This is it.” He moved ahead of them and made his way to the house. Before he even reached the front door, it opened.
“Come in,” James Coburg said and stepped aside.
In the foyer, Michael kept his gaze trained on James. “There have been a couple of new developments, and we could use your help.”
“Let’s discuss this in the living room,” James said soberly and gestured everyone into the nearby room. He dropped onto the black leather sofa, leaned back and stared down Michael. “I’ve been helping every way I can. What else can I do?”
Michael zeroed in on Josh, who appeared in the living room doorway. He waited for Josh’s signal, a slight nod of the head, then said to James, “You can stop playing games.”
“Games?” James gave a nervous laugh. “I brought you into this, gave you —”
“You brought me, us, into this to camouflage your real role,” Michael interrupted.
James’s eyes widened. “What ‘real’ role?”
“James, please … don’t. How about we just put our cards on the table. You can go first by asking Lauren and Guy to join us.” Michael’s hand moved slowly towards his holster as we watched the colour drain out of James’s face. “Unless you’d like to pay one of my favourite games. The rules are simple. Shoot first, ask questions later.”
“Jesus Christ,” Brian mumbled.
“I knew we should have taken you out at the very beginning,” Lauren Platt said as she came into view. “That’s a mistake that will be easily rectified tonight.”
“Be quiet,” James spat, glancing at Lauren. Turning his focus back to Michael, he said, “We could use someone with your skills and talent on our team. And you’d be generously —”
“Stop,” Michael cut in. “I’m not for sale or for hire. Where’s the PM?”
A healthy-looking Guy Denault entered the living room and took up a position behind the sofa. “Agent Reid, I strongly encourage you to carefully consider James’s offer.”
“Like I said…” Michael drew his weapon. “I’m not for sale or for hire. But I have to admit that it was a clever plan. A grieving daughter out to avenge her father’s death by coercing her father’s killers, who are now all in positions of power, in order to leverage her drug operations.”
“Wait a minute,” Brian said, disbelief rattling in his voice. “A daughter out to avenge her father’s death? You mean…”
Michael pointed his gun at a stone-faced Lauren Platt. “Say hello to Angelique Romero.”
I don’t wait for inspiration. I never have. To become a writer, I learned to write every day. No matter what, no matter when.
In the beginning, after I realized that I wanted to write, it wasn’t easy finding the time to put words to the page. At the time, I was in university, and my love for words overwhelmed. When I should have been studying or writing term papers, I was writing very bad stories and having fun at open mic nights. I don’t know how I finished my degree when I was channelling most of my efforts into writing.
And for every 9-5ish job I have had, I have always woken up early to write. Either in a coffeeshop before heading to the office or at home. And I would spend my lunch hour writing. During my time as a flight attendant, I wrote after a long flight to London or Copenhagen or Dublin. It did not matter that I had been up all night or that my eyelids sagged, I sat down at the desk in my hotel room—or ventured to a nearby cafe—to write. It became a habit.
Some days, I manage a scant 250 words. Other days, it can be anywhere between 1,200 and 2,00 words. The point is this: I write. No matter how I feel, no matter my level of motivation. I don’t worry about how perfect it is or if anyone will like it. I just write every day.
Because this is what I have learned. When you show up every day to do the one thing you’re most passionate about, it is a sign of your commitment. It moves you closer to the end game, and ups the odds in your favour. When you write every day, it hones your skills and helps you become better.
When I write every day, it brings excitement at seeing the progress being made, and it keeps the momentum going. Do it long enough, without fail, and it’ll show you who you really are.
I learned a lot of lessons that stuck with me when I was training for the 2019 Toronto Waterfront Marathon. One in particular stands out: It’s okay to go slow. Because as I reviewed my training plan and saw the 26k training runs (or longer distances) I would have to run, I was panicking. How was I going to run that far? The answer was, of course, that I would have to go at a slower pace — because it wasn’t the race. But I had to learn to be okay with going slow. It was the only way for me to cover the distance.
As the end of the year draws closer, I am thinking more about my life — where I’ve been, where I am, and where I’m still looking to go. Maybe, too, it is because in some areas of my life things are going well, but in others I’m not exactly where I had hoped to be. Specifically with my writing, as there have been a few setbacks that have forced me to delay the release of my next novel. And this has again made me realize that sometimes it is okay to go slow.
I am a writer. That is true. I know that because every day I write no matter what, usually in the early quiet hours and sometimes in the evening. Writing has always been the thing that grounds me, gives me a sense of purpose in what sometimes feels like a chaotic world … especially on the days that are a struggle.
A struggle, yes, because I constantly get snarled in the comparison trap (even though I know better!). And because, when I’m honest with myself, I’m really not sure how to define success when it comes to my writing. Is it just based on the number of books sold? Is it about proving to my doubters that they were wrong? Is it my commitment to show up every day and write no matter what?
Maybe it’s all those things and more. Or less.
What is true, then, is that even on my best days I’m a little lost in the wilderness. And that’s okay. It’s why, now, I’m okay to go slow so that I can, as Ray Dalio advises, “Think for yourself to decide 1) what you want, 2) what is true, and 3) what you should do to achieve #1 in light of #2 … and do that with humility and open-mindedness so that you can consider the best thinking available to you.” [note]Ray Dalio, Principles, Simon & Schuster, 2017, p. X.[/note]
The paradox is that there is both urgency and a need to slow down. The urgency is that I’m turning fifty next August, and because tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, I want to make sure I’m doing everything to live intentionally. To make sure that I do what’s in my heart and to not leave anything undone. But there is also, at times, a necessity to slow down and reevaluate. Because reaching the destination is just as important as enjoying journey.
Yes, it’s okay to go slow. As Mahatma Gandhi reminded us, “There is more to life than increasing its speed.”
Never say never…
Throughout all the years I had been running, I’d said I’d never run a marathon. I’d completed a few half-marathons, but a full one? Nope, not for me. Then in 2019, I ran (and completed) the Toronto Waterfront Marathon.
In the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic, and terrified of catching the virus — and safe at home alone and locked down — I said I would never step foot in a gym again. Not even the one in my condo building. Then on Tuesday, 25 October 2022, there I was entering Barry’s on Richmond Street for my first HIIT class.
Although those are just two examples of me saying, “I’ll never do that,” it always seems to be at some point I end up eating crow. Never say never, right? [Read more…] about Never Say Never