(Most characters are part of the Burn Notice universe)
Seymour of the World
Miami is known as a place for the beautiful and the young at heart. From the world over, sunworshippers come to this tropical paradise to soak in the summer sun.
But today would not be a beach day for Michael, Fi and Sam, although it seemed to have started out that way.
Earlier that morning, Fi was seen wearing a bikini top and sarong as she bustled about the loft.
Michael watched her moving back and forth, organizing things in his now cozy-feeling loft. She looked content as she finished straightening her snow-globes on the shelf.
The best decision Michael had ever made was to ask Fi to move into the loft. It made this place seem like home. Smiling to himself, he went back to concentrating on his papers in the file. He had a lot of reading to catch up on.
Fi peered Michael's way and noticed he had not moved in the slightest from where he sat at the counter. She had already explained to him what needed to be done this morning. Her lips became tight as she continued watching him.
Michael could feel her eyes boring down on him and looked up, "Um...Something on your mind, Fi?"
"Mi-chael!" Fi started, as she impatiently placed her hands on her waist, "Why haven't you changed into your beachwear yet?"
"What do you mean, Fi? Are we both going to the beach?"
"Mi-chael..." Fi repeated; this time in that tone.
Michael started loudly shuffling the file papers, attempting to look busy.
Teesh. Teesh. Teesh...
"Uh, Fi, I'm really bogged down with all this reading...Could I just meet up with you later at the beach, please?"
As if that were enough to appease her, he went back to reviewing his reading materials. Wrong. Men are so clueless. Fi came stomping towards him and wordlessly, she reached out and slammed his file shut.
She had his full attention now.
"Michael, I told you, we are going for a meeting this morning...so get up and get dressed in your beach clothes now! Remember, we still have to pick up Sam, too!"
Michael perked up at the possibility of a job. " Oh? A meeting? Is this for a job? So what kind of a meeting would require beach attire?"
Fi rolled her eyes.
"Well, Michael, take a guess. The location site could be: one, at an opera, or two, at a poolside party..."
"We're conducting business at a poolside party?"
Fiona heaved a sigh. "I've told you all of this already. Yes!"
He gazed at her intently. She looked so appealing sexy in her swimwear. This time, he gave her a flirtatious smile.
Fi knew that look. Why are men so easily distracted by what women wear?
"Fi," added Michael seductively, "we don't have to be there exactly on time, do we?"
Michael's gaze traveled down the length of her swimwear, stopping short to admire her cleavage. Fi's cheeks burned with the heat of modesty as she attempted to adjust her bikini top. He placed his hand over hers to stop the gesture. He got off the stool and stepped closer to her, his hip perilously close to hers. Too close.
"Michael, stop...we don't have time for...anything else. We need to leave in two minutes!"
Michael touched the curve of her jaw, "Two minutes? We're not hard boiled eggs, Fi...let's not rush..."
She liked the soft rumble in his voice. He was not the only one who was easily distracted, especially when he stood so near to her. His tantalizing scent, the masculine spice of his skin was all she was aware of.
Smiling, she willingly floated into his opened embrace and drew a breath.
"I suppose have some time..." she looked seductively into the blues of his eyes as he returned the smile...before she reached up and purposely shoved him away, ...until you compared us to a breakfast food, Michael!"
But Michael was not fooled. He had read the desire in her eyes.
"Not even..." he reached forward and started nibbling on her ear, "...if I wanted to... taste your muffins?"
Spies know being sensually silly sometimes has its rewards, too.
Much, much later in the morning, they met up with Sam, who not only wore his trademark Hawaiian shirt, but also had slipped on a pair of comfortable swimming shorts and flip-flops. Michael was dressed in ocean blue swimming trunks with an unbuttoned short sleeve shirt thrown casually on, exposing the front of his chest.
The three really did look ready for a fun day at the beach.
But spies know appearances are deceiving.
They drove up a long winding road which ended with a mansion on the hill. The private residence stood alone, lush and luxurious, while surrounded below by hundreds of middle-class single family dwellings.
During the whole drive up, Fi and Sam were evasive in telling Michael whom they were meeting.
Fi drove around the circular driveway and stopped her vehicle, as a hired worker ran to open her door to park her car. Loud music could be heard playing behind the perfectly manicured high shrubbery when they exited the car.
Fi smiled as she handed the valet her keys, "Well... had I known the place was going to be this chi-chi, I would have insisted on driving my Bentley," she teased.
"Whom did you say lived here, Fi?" asked Michael, as he got out of the vehicle to admire the vast estate.
"I didn't, Michael." answered Fi mysteriously.
She and Sam then exchanged looks.
Michael narrowed his eyes as he regarded his girlfriend and best friend. Sam and Fi in cahoots? Since when did hell freeze over? Michael was not sure he wanted to meet this new client. Something was definitely up.
They walked up to the elaborate hand-finished wooden door with the etched windows and rang the bell.
A distinguished elderly man wearing gray butler's tails answered the door. He gave them a slight bow with no smile. Michael almost felt like addressing him as "Alfred", despite not knowing his name.
They walked past the magnificent foyer with the cathedral ceilings, as Sam leaned into Michael and Fi.
"Psst. Did you notice the stuck-up expression the butler gave us? It's like we're the lowly cocktail franks on a tray of shrimp puffs!"
"Ssshhh!" insisted Fi, "Can't you for once act as if you belong, Sam?"
"...Said the woman who brought a shotgun to a bar mitzvah on our last assignment!"
They continued walking down a long corridor and the manservant opened the door leading to the pool party.
Immediately they were assaulted by blasting music and the bright sunlight.
A full gala pool party was happening underneath a poolside pavilion with a full-serviced bar. Everywhere Michael looked, bikinied women strutted past tables of seated bikinied women or swimming bikinied women. A shapely blonde was exiting the pool dripping wet, wearing a sexy two-piece.
"Son of a gun!" smiled Sam looking about at all the svelte swimsuited women, "I just love the demographics here!"
Michael took in the whole ambiance. Exotic greenery flourished throughout. Everything spoke of wealth at this place. Imported European- designed lattice- weaved furniture gave an airy feeling, enhancing the beauty of the marble pool. There were elaborately carved statues of unknown goddesses situated at each corner of the elaborate pool.
"Psst! Mikey! Did you see all the sculptures of females?" Sam whispered, pointing at the statues, "I bet they symbolize the goddesses of pool parties!"
Michael nodded in agreement. This job was looking better and better.
Michael's scanning of the poolside amenities came to a sudden halt when he spotted a familiar figure. A tall man, with his blonde hair tied back, was discreetly watching the party from the bar.
Alarms went off in Michael's head.
He recognized Jackass, bodyguard to Fi's crazy gun dealer.
And where there's Jackass, Seymour can't be far behind.
So to speak.
Michael turned to leave when Fi caught his arm.
"Oh no-o you don't, Michael! You are NOT leaving!" Fi held on firm as she turned to Sam, "Sam, help me out!"
Sam was definitely not ready to leave just yet.
"You're thinking of leaving this paradise, Mikey?" Sam questioned.
"...This isn't paradise, Sam. It's closer to hell."
"So, Mikey, let me get this straight. Your definition of hell is a fancy mansion surrounded by beautiful women.."
"-with Seymour in the center of it, yes!"
Sam was distracted as two bikinied women strolled by. He looked dazed. " ...Sorry, what?..."
"He creeps me out," Michael tried to explain.
"Who?" asked Sam, watching another group of women, who wore almost nothing except seductive smiles.
"Seymour! Seymour creeps me out, " explained Michael.
"See more, I am seeing more!" Sam looked all about at the bathing beauties, no longer coherent.
"Ignore Sam, Michael, he's a goner. The perplexing part is Sam hasn't even had anything to drink yet," said Fi, "Anyway, creepy clients have never stopped us before."
Michael tried to argue his point more, "Fi, you know that whenever we help Seymour, things get crazy..."
"All I can tell you, buddy," interjected Sam, as he gestured towards the pool area with the beach bunnies, "is this looks to be the best pool party ever. Unlimited drinks, bombshell women, and did I mention, unlimited drinks and bombshell women? So I aim to enjoy myself."
"Listen, Sam, Fi...You two should have told me..." Michael stated to both, "or , rather, warned me that this was Seymour's place.."
"and would you have come, Michael?" asked Fi.
"Perhaps not...but that's because," Michael was trying to think of an excuse, "...because...he stands... so close to me all the time!"
"...He stands so close to you?" repeated Sam, "So what... are you offended by his B.O.?"
"No!," said Michael, flabbergasted, but then after thinking about it, "Al-though..."
Fi rolled her eyes once again.
"Okay! Enough! Fine, Michael! Fine!" said Fi, throwing up her arms in surrender, "You are acting like a petulant child! If you can't handle that...that Muppet of a gun runner, I give up! You can stand here and pout for the next hour. Sam and I can certainly handle any small, high paying job Seymour gives us, on our own! Come on, Sam!"
Sam shrugged and followed, "Sorry, Mikey...I don't have a choice...Fi is headed towards the women."
Michael was left standing alone.
Looking dejected, he looked one way and then the other, "I didn't say I couldn't handle it..." His voice trailed off as he followed them to a shaded area.
"Well, I hope the Gun- Muppet turns up soon," Sam said to Fi. They were standing by the umbrella tables when Michael came to join them again.
"He may have been called away," Michael hoped, "Maybe he-"
And like a tormented dream come true, Michael heard an ecstatic voice coming from behind him.
"Michael! Oh, my god! Michael Westen! Bring out the harps! Let the choir in the heavens sing! It's destiny, I tell you, pure destiny of a lifetime! Welcome! Welcome to my awesome new digs!"
He came sauntering towards them, arms outstretched. Michael looked left and right, wondering what would be the best escape route.
"If you're thinking about running, forget it, Michael" Fi spoke at the side of her mouth,"You won't win the chase. It's Seymour with his running sneakers versus your old flip-flops."
"Maybe Mikey should run," countered Sam, "I would love to see Seymour tackle our Mikey! Seymour would never get up!"
Michael did not make a move.
That last image absolutely scared him to death.
I'm so happy to be back and this time with a Seymour story! Thanks for taking the time to read it!