The Perfect Assassin by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson [Patterson, James and Sitts, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2022-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 53

Chicago

“READY TO BE dazzled?” asked Meed.

“I’m not sure,” I said.

That was the truth. I was nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. For six months, I hadn’t once looked in a mirror. Meed hadn’t allowed it. One of her many rules. Since the day I’d been kidnapped, I’d never seen a single picture or video of my new self. I’d learned to shave my face by touch.

Of course, I knew how I looked in bits and pieces. I could see the changes when I checked out my arms, my chest, my legs, my abs. I knew that I was bigger and stronger than I had ever imagined. I could recite my new measurements to the centimeter. But I didn’t have the whole picture. I had no clue how I looked to anybody else. Only Meed did. So she’d decided that tonight was the big reveal. Tonight, I was being introduced to myself.

She was holding a full-length mirror turned backward against her torso. I was standing in my gym shorts and bare feet. I was still pumped and sweating from my workout. For some reason, I guess she thought this was my best look.

“On the count of three,” said Meed. She wiggled the mirror in a little tease. “One… two… three!” Then she flipped it.

When I saw the man looking back at me, it was like looking at a stranger.

“Holy shit,” I said softly.

“Mr. Universe competition, here we come,” said Meed.

This was crazy. Over the past couple months, I’d felt my development accelerating. It wasn’t just the extra training or the protein shakes or the mass-gain powder or the endless brain exercises. Something had fundamentally shifted in me, physically and mentally. I felt myself progressing in leaps, not just steps.

“Look,” said Meed, tipping the mirror, “even your hair is better.”

I leaned forward and ran my fingers over my scalp. She was right. I still had my widow’s peak, but the hair on top was now thick and full. The little bald patch on the crown of my head had completely filled in. The last time I had hair like this, I was in high school.

“Go ahead,” said Meed, twirling her index finger in the air. “Take in the rear view.”

Now I was really self-conscious. But also kind of curious. I did a three-quarter turn and looked over my shoulder into the mirror. Jesus! My traps and lats were carved like marble. My waist was narrow and tight. My external obliques looked like thick straps. My glutes bulged like two solid rocks under my shorts.

“Work of art, right?” said Meed. She turned the mirror around and leaned it against the wall. “Hold on. I have another treat for you.”

I never knew when to take her literally. She always kept me off balance. Usually, when Meed said she had something special for me, it turned out to be pure misery. But sometimes, she actually came through with something great. Like Kobe steak for dinner instead of tofu. Or letting me choose the playlist.

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