Mission: Interrupted

Chapter 10 - Parade Night

Break the internet, he said. It'll be fun, he said. By the time they'd finished their bath and other suds-filled activities, Norman's phone had exploded with missed calls and texts - all wanting to know who the mystery woman was. The picture on his Instagram, in which he had just tagged with a fire emoji, had nearly 2 million likes and close to 80,000 comments already. Meg was shocked at the level of vitriol levelled at her, or rather, the woman in the picture, by some of his followers. Apparently she was too fat, too skinny, too old, too edgy, way too tatted up, and obviously too slutty for precious Norman Reedus. But, there were also a great many that seemed to either think this was one of Norman's photo projects, or just accepted that he might actually have found someone. She was most surprised at how many seemed to be moved by the rawness of the photo and the thoughtful comments about the two scars that could be seen.

Meg sent him downstairs to be with his friends, because she knew they had work to get planned and she needed to get her route set for the next leg of her journey. She was planning to spend a couple of nights on the road before getting to Santa Fe and needed to find lodging.

Early afternoon, she threw on her faded jeans and Sex Pistols tee and went out to grab some takeout. The St. Patrick's Day parade would be starting in about 3 hours and people were already starting to claim their spots along the route. She popped into Mahoney's and got a fried crawfish po-boy and a bag of onion rings. On the way back to the house, she discreetly uncorked a vial of ashes and poured little amounts amongst the roots of the giant trees lining the picturesque street that would soon be filled with the Irish and Irish-for-tonight.

Entering the gate, she rounded the corner and ran straight into Greg, Norman's friend.

"Hey, sorry about that," she said, moving to the side.

"No problem. Looks like you had the same idea we did." He said motioning to the bag of food.

"Yeah, can't watch the parade on an empty stomach." She turned to start towards the stairs.

"Hey," he said and she stopped and turned around. Her eyebrows rose letting him know he should continue. "Look, whatever it is that you and Norman got going on is your business..."

"Sure is," she agreed.

"But he's my best friend, so I just have to say my piece. It's been more than a decade since a woman has meant more to him than arm candy, and here he is acting like a lovesick schoolboy with someone he's known for less than 3 days. I mean for Christ's sake, that Instagram photo contained more intimacy than I shared my whole marriage..." he paced a couple of steps and ran his hand through his long hair before looking back at her. "I had a check ran on you, no offense, I just wanted to make sure you weren't some stalker nutcase."

"Of course, it's what any good friend would do," Meg says and somehow manages to not roll her eyes.

"The coincidences were just too much. My guy said you had to've been a spook, because your life after leaving the SEALs is the most vanilla ever on paper — it had to've been orchestrated. Sure, it says you were a CIA analyst and trainer. Yet, besides your immediate family, there're no lifelong friends, no social media, nothing. He did say it appears you have plenty of your own money so I guess you aren't out to use him for that."

"What exactly is your point, Greg? No offense, but my sandwich is getting cold."

"My point is that I was hoping there'd be something I could use to convince him that you were just another fan girl only interested in his fame... but now I wonder if maybe you actually do like him."

Meg held eye contact with Greg for several beats, and just when it was about to be uncomfortable, she smiled. "You're a good friend and that's a trait I admire. I can't promise that Norman won't get hurt in some way from whatever's happening between him and me, but I can promise you that if he does — it won't be because of his fame or his money. I can also promise you that this is not one-sided. I like him very much, as well... but even if we were to stay in touch I'm not emotionally capable of anything more than what's charmingly referred to as 'friends with benefits'."