protect your head and maybe your heart too

secret phrases

f I'm gonna write all my agency's secrets into a notebook I might as well add the biggest one. I mean, if somebody else is reading this I'm already fucked sooooo.

If your agency, or just a group of agents, don't have a code word or phrase to use as cues, you're doing it wrong. Full offence to you.

Triple H's phrase once was asking "where's the boiler room?"

Blue chic said "under the gym" and then the whole fucking buiding blew up. Crazy shit I tell you. Add that to the list of times I almost died.

And add boiler room to the list of phrases that trigger an internal freak out

ANYWAY

Our's is "Leonardo Di Caprio likes Van Gough paintings." Or it is until we use it. Once we use it, please change this passage to future Janis. You can't reuse a phrase, for obvious reasons. It will give away the plan first off, second off- its just cooler this way.

Besides, "Leonardo Di Caprio likes Van Gough paintings." is one of the best phrases we have had yet. Me and Damian picked it. He picked the Leonardo Di Caprio part, and I picked Van Gough. It's more interesting than Gretchen's "Fetch is slang from England" or Karens "What's your opinion on Halloween before world peace?" (Halloween>> world peace btw. Sue me).

So yeah, if there is anything we really should remember, future Janis, it's that Leonardo Di Caprio can appreciate the fine art. Love that for him.

It's December, and I've been reading a lot of my notebook recently. I'm not scared of forgetting anything, I'm not an agent anymore, I don't need the information, but I keep coming back to it. Damian thinks it's a form of mourning and it's not healthy, but he doesn't try to take the book away.

So, cool.

I hear the front door shut gently from downstairs. "Damian, is that you?"

"No, this is a robbery." His voice calls back.

"Mhmm, sure." I say, placing the notebook back on my bookshelf and greeting Damian down stairs.

"How was work?"

"Tiring."

Damian worked Fridays and Saturdays from noon to nine, but in that time he does two shows at lots of backstage work. The other days of the week he only went in for shows at seven, sometimes going earlier for paperwork. It was saturday and I could see the exhaustion on his face.

"Go upstairs and go to bed, okay?" I say softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face.

"M'kay." He doesn't fight, and that's how I know how truly exhausted he is. Damian makes it to the top of the stairs before turning around. "You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm going to bed soon anyway." I say. "I'll just clean up downstairs."

"Okay." He says, and I can hear him walk into his room and get ready for bed.

I turn off the lights downstairs and make sure the doors are locked, feeling in no real rush. It's only nine and I'm already ready for bed. I make sure the patio door is locked and I look out to the pool.

That shits gonna be fun in the summer. Cady and her roommates don't have a pool, so maybe it's an excuse to invite them over.

Once we personalize the house of course.

I walked up the stairs and passed Dmains room when I heard him call me.

"Whats up?" I say, opening his door. His room is pitch black and he's already in bed.