Secret Indulgence:


by DoggyJ

He wanted it. He needed it. He craved it so badly he could taste it. He rarely indulged himself, but the last week had been absolute hell. He could never let any of the others know. He would never live it down if he did.

Everyone has a secret indulgence; something they reserve only for themselves. Something they turn to when the frantic pace of life becomes almost too much to bear.

Ezra smiled as he dressed; carefully as always. If asked, he knew that not one of the others would ever guess his. They might say gambling, or they might say drinking. But those were no secrets; they were behaviors that were visible for all to see. Almost too visible, as they served to deflect attention away from Ezra, himself. Give your enemy something to focus on other than your true intentions.

And he really must cease thinking of his co-workers as enemies. They had been working together for almost two years now and had yet to live up to his suspicions.

Ezra looked in the mirror once more. He doubted his colleagues would recognize him without his expensive suits; really, just another form of camouflage. His loose jeans were soft as butter, well worn and faded into comfortable familiarity. The maroon turtle neck shirt nestled within the dark leather jacket. Pulling on scuffed leather boots, Ezra headed for the back door.

He paused for a moment; letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. His ears filtered out the normal sounds of the night, listening for anything out of the ordinary. Slipping around to the gate and out to the walkway beyond, Ezra headed down the street, away from the townhouse complex and toward the shopping center a few blocks away.

After walking for about five minutes, Ezra paused at the corner. The time it took to light a cigarette gave him an opportunity to survey the area. Seeing nothing to concern him, he threw the unsmoked prop into the gutter and crossed the street, jingling the keys in his pocket.

The Jaguar was a wonderful car, no doubt about it. It turned heads and drew attention. That was why he kept the '89 Toyota in this lot. It drew attention, too, but mostly on the basis of wondering which part might fall off first. The Toyota, however, like its owner, was deceptive. Beneath the faded, rusting, dented exterior was an engine and suspension that would rival the Jag's. He unlocked the door, tugging until it opened. Slipping into the driver's seat, he started the engine and pulled out of the lot.

There it was. Good Lord, he was salivating. He circled it twice before pulling in.

"Welcome to Burger Kountry. Would you like to try the Mile High Combo?"

"No, I'd like a number two, fully loaded, with a Coke."

"A number two. Do you want to Kountry size that?"

"Oh, yeah."

Resolutely placing the bag on the seat beside him - he would not nibble on the fries - he pulled carefully out onto the street and turned right.

A black Dodge Ram pulled up to the speaker.

"Hey, Chris, that looked like Ezra."


"That Toyota that just pulled out."

"Ezra? In that heap? Eating a Kountry burger? Vin, you gotta get your eyes checked." The two men chuckled, stowed their burgers behind the seat, and pulled out of the lot, turning left.

Secret Indulgence Index On to: Vin

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