Probably the last snippet you're getting from this. Enjoy!
It's late when I get the text but it doesn't matter. I don't sleep like I used to anymore. Late nights on the job mean if I'm in bed at 1 AM, it's early for me. It's only a few minutes before midnight so the night owls are still just getting ready. I'd have thought I was too old for this by now, but seven months of casinos and blackjack a couple times a week means I've become one of them, in more ways than one. They trust me now.
With that in mind I get up, wash my face and shower, after sending back a quick response that I'd be there. I slick back my hair, the way I've been wearing it for seven months. It's not my hair. It's Robert's hair. It's Robert's face in the mirror, Robert's clothes I'm wearing, Robert's life I've been living since I went undercover. James feels like he's gone, buried under the perfectly cultivated facade. I don't know if I'd even recognize James anymore, if I can go back to being him when this is all over. I hope I can. I hope he isn't as far gone as I fear. I don't want to be Robert, but I can't stop now. The job isn't done.
