I swallowed. "What if they see us?"
"That's why we're wearing these masks," Mason said. “We don’t look any different than anyone else — just a young couple enjoying the festivities.”
It was hard to shake my sudden anxiety and share Mason’s optimism. "But what if they come up to us and demand we take them off?"
"Seriously? And you said I was the paranoid one."
"I don't like this at all," I said, my voice tinged with panic, my breathing ragged. I was seriously starting to sweat even more and the crowds were starting to make me dizzy with anxiety.
"Look Carly,” Mason whispered in my ear. “They're not going to come up to us. We’ll be just fine — if you stop acting like something is wrong."
I tried to heed his words, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go horribly wrong.
My anxiety only grew stronger with each step we took, and I only made it to the next block before I tugged on his arm with urgency.
Mason stared at me, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I c-c-can't do this,” I rasped, shaking my head. "The crowds, this stupid mask, the heat, those policeman . . .”
"Fuck," Mason muttered. He stared at me, assessing my condition. "Let's get you cool and maybe something to drink,” he decided. “I'll let you rest and pull yourself together before heading to the meeting. Okay?"
"Okay," I agreed, feeling relieved.
Mason led me down a side street away from the crowds of people and we entered a corner building that looked like a mini office building.
Inside, the floors were made of white polished marble and furnished with expensive furniture. I deduced we had entered some sort of waiting room or lobby.
"What is this place?" I asked Mason, taking my mask off and sighing with relief as cool air hit me. Now that I was out of the blistering heat and away from the massive throngs, I was already feeling a lot better.
"Shit Carly, I told you keep that on while we were in public,” Mason growled in disapproval.
I wiped the sweat off my brow and gestured at the empty lobby. "There's no one here.”
Mason glanced up into the corner. "Yeah, but there are cameras."
Mason pushed back his mask, wiped at his sweaty face, and glared at me. “Anyway, it’s too late now. Both our faces are on camera."
"Well, I'm sorry."
Mason's glare evaporated. “I’m not mad at you, I just want to make sure we get across this border safe and sound.”
Sympathy rolled through me at the concern in his eyes. He meant me no harm by making me go through all the discomfort. His greatest concern was making sure that I was okay. "You're so sweet," I said placing a hand on his arm. It was clammy with perspiration. He had to be just as hot as I was out there, but he hadn't made a single complaint. It made me feel embarrassed of my prissiness.
I walked over to a chair and sat down. I fanned myself with the mask, still feeling hot in places. "Let me catch my breath and then we can continue on."
“Sure. Five minutes.”
Mason opted not to sit down next to me, content on looking around the lobby for unexpected visitors. After a moment, he nodded over at a vending machine that was on the far side of the large room. "Oh yeah. I’ll get us drink. What kind do you want?"
I flashed him a smile. I loved how considerate he was being. "Dr. Pepper, please, if they have it.”
Mason made his way over to the machine and dug in his pocket then started depositing change in it. He had just got my Dr. Pepper when the front doors flew open and someone walked in.
"Mason!" I screamed. "Watch out!"
Mason, who was too engrossed with getting the sodas to notice the man that walked in, looked up. But it was too late.
With a roar, Andre charged him, knocking him into the vending machine. The vending machine rocked violently on its bottom before falling over onto the floor with a loud bang and several sodas went rolling out of the dispenser.
Regaining his balance, Mason roared back, launching himself at Andre and colliding with his midsection.
Their faces twisted with rage as they grappled with each other, their veins standing out on their necks from strain.
I watched the epic struggle with worry, my heart pounding in my chest, wondering who would win. Andre was a bit taller and more broad, but I knew Mason was trained in martial arts and could kick some serious ass.
Andre slung Mason away from him, sending him flying into a chair and knocking it over.
Mason quickly tried to regain his footing, but before he could, Andre pressed his advantage, grabbing a chair and rushing forward to deliver an incapacitating blow. He swung the chair at Mason’s head. At the very last second, Mason spun, narrowly avoided being struck, and delivered a solid kick to Andre’s right leg and buckling his knee.