Page 125 of Johnny

“Cautious about what? Me?” I point to myself and laugh.

“Look,” he says, walking over to the closet and pulling it open. To my surprise, there’s actually

clothes in there. “This operation is a lot bigger than I first thought.” He takes a shirt out of the closet,

throws it on the bed next to me, then does the same with a pair of pants. “Put those on.”

I look at the clothes. Black tactical pants, black long-sleeved shirt. “What? Why?”

But by the time I say that he’s throwing an armored vest on top of the pants. “That too,” he says.

“We don’t have much time. We’ll be taking off in about ten minutes.”

“Taking off?” But as soon as the question leaves my mouth I recall the one detail about the ship I

did notice on that stressful ride over.

The helicopter.

“I thought we were boating in? I thought we had a plan?”

“It changed,” Johnny says. He’s got his own shirt, pants, and armored vest on the bed now and he

lifts his white tank-top t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Then he stares at me, eyes

narrowed down into slits as he kicks off his water shoes.

“Why are you looking at me that way?”

He sighs, then the locked stare we were holding breaks and he starts unbuckling his belt. “Just

change clothes. I’ve got it covered.”

I pick up the armored vest, which is a lot heavier than it looks. “What’s this about?”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe when we go in.” He’s unzipping his pants when he says this. And

then he drops them to the floor and steps out. Reaching for the tactical pants in the same movement.

He pulls them on as I watch. Both of us silent.

But when I don’t move he says, “Please, just get dressed,” as he buttons and zips his pants.

I grab my own pants and shirt up in my arms and then retreat to the bathroom, slamming the pocket

door closed behind me.

What the fuck is happening? Why is he being like this?

I start pulling the pants on over my shorts, and remember the phone in my pocket.

Should I make a call?

Could I even get a signal out here?

Probably not. But I don’t even bother to check. Just button and zip the heavy, thick, many-pocketed

canvas tactical pants up my legs.