“Anyways,” he says, breaking the moment and grinning as his armor goes right back up; “Go put some gym stuff on, let’s go.”
I frown, finally reaching for the much needed espresso that’s finally stopped dripping from the machine; “Why? And where are we going?”
Hudson rolls his eyes; “To the gym, dummy. Unless you wanna work out in those cute panties you had on earlier, in which case I'm all for it.”
Yeah, moment of clarity shattered.
I stare at Hudson like he's nuts before gesturing towards the icy-looking window with the wind whipping against it; “Are you kidding me? I'm not going to the gym, it's freezing outside!”
“Seems like it's a little cold in here too, toots.” He smirks and nods at my chest, and I look down to realize my nipples are poking out through my thin t-shirt. I hastily cross my arms over my chest.
“What are you, ten? Seriously thought, I'm not going to-”
He cuts me off by tapping a piece of paper printed with what looks suspiciously like a time-table and shaking his has as he grins at me; “Donald's schedule, Princess; not to be ignored.”
Something tells me arrogant, filthy rich, obnoxious and tattooed Hudson Conners doesn't give a flying shit about keeping schedules, and I know he's just doing this to get to me, which I am determined to not let happen.
“Fine, let’s go.” I turn and start to march down the hall back to my room.
“Oh, panties it is then?” He calls after me, and I swear it’s almost as if I can feel his eyes on my butt, looking right through my pajamas.
I slam the door to my room, shutting him off again.
6
Hudson
P A S T
“I don’t understand why I need to wear this fucking monkey suit.” I grow, shifting uncomfortably as the tailor pats the inside of my leg and secures the expensive fabric with a pin from his mouth. I look up at the Old Man, and he’s grinning at me in this mix of amusement and something I can’t quite place- it could be pride, but I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever seen that emotion on someone’s face directed at me.
But, there’s a lot of new things in my world after meeting William Archer. New like being back in the States and working for his company, or like having more money than I know what to do with; new things like a new identity. “Hudson” is easy to keep, since it’s what the guys called me in the service after I got busted singing Billy Joel’s “New York State of Mind” in the shower one night when I thought I was the only one up, and I was all too happy to drop my Dad’s fuckin’ last name for my Mother’s maiden one.
“You wear that fucking monkey suit, Hudson, because it’s your costume; it’s your disguise. That fucking monkey suit will open doors for you that would otherwise be closed; doors you never even imagined existed. It’s the mark of a man at a certain place in the world, and it lets those around him know what that place is.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, grinning; “Did you rehearse that?” He’s chuckling and I shake my head; “You rehearsed it, didn’t you.”
William shakes his head, exhaling slowly; “Shut up and turn around, Marine.”
I mock salute and roll my eyes as I turn; “Yes si-”
Well, shit.
The man who looks back at me in the trifold floor-length mirror is like a me from another alternate reality. It’s me - those are my eyes looking back at me, but that’s the only thing I could possibly guess is the same, and it’s not just the suit. It’s everything about me that I almost don’t recognize, and my brain can’t even begin to process how much of a good thing that is. I need the old me to not be recognized, even by me; hell, especially by me. The old me needs to be purged in the fires of what’s to come, and the new direction my life is going in faster than I can almost catch up with.
“So, what do you think.” The Old Man looks smug behind me as he looks at me through the mirror.
“I think I- I look different?”
William tilts his head toward the tailor, who nods before ducking out of the room; “You look like a person again, Hudson. You look like a man ready to finally be one.”
I’m remembering that shitty dive in Kinshasa, when the first guy I’d seen in months that didn’t look like some kind of criminal or terrorist sat down next to me at the bar and introduced himself.
“You know I’d never let you down, Sir, but are you sure- I mean, just because we were in the Marin-”
“If you think I’m ‘hooking you up’ with a job like this just because we share a common military history-” He trails off, shaking his head; “I do not make decisions like this lightly, Hudson. You of all people should know that.”