Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Did that happen to you?” I say it quickly without thinking. Again, my damn mouth blabbers whatever idiot thing comes into my head.
Her lips purse. “Something like that,” she says. “I met Jayson’s father when we were both young. He wasn’t… well, he wasn’t what he became later. Not then at least.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, it’s alright. Nobody ever asks about how I met my husband. They’re always too afraid.” She smiles and there’s a wickedness in her eyes. “If I can give you some advice? Don’t be so afraid of Jayson. He’s a good man, despite what you might think.”
A good man that murdered my father. “I’m not afraid of him.”
“Okay, good.” She awkwardly pats my arm. “Well. Enjoy your time at the computers, and have a nice workout.”
“Workout?”
Her eyes arch at my bag. “The gym.”
“Ah, yes, right, of course, sorry. I mean, thank you.” I beam at her, on the verge of throwing up in my mouth.
She hesitates for a couple more seconds before she turns and walks off. I watch her, deflating, shoulders rounding. I should collapse and sob on the floor here and now, except that would be so much worse. Instead, I wait for her to exit, before I turn and hurry to the printing room.
A big copier lurks in the corner like a whale. I start jabbing at the buttons trying to figure out how to make it work, but my hands are shaking too much and my fingers don’t want to respond to my commands. I have to stand there holding onto the edge of the copier like it’s keeping me afloat as sweat oozes out from under my arms.
I wasn’t made for this clandestine stuff. I should turn around, head back to the condo, and forget I ever came up with this asinine idea. Jayson’s going to catch me, and when he does, I’m dead.
Except my heart rate steadies and my thinking clears.
Remember Papa’s body torn to shreds.
He got a closed casket.
The first file goes into the tray.
I hit the proper sequence of buttons, and the sheets begin to feed, one after the next.
I stand and watch it work.
Chapter 18
Fallon
I find a corner of the casino where there’s enough noise that I won’t be overheard by any microphones in the ceiling, but also nobody close enough to listen. I sit at a slot machine, the smell of smoke drifting in the air as somebody nearby drags on ciggies. The phone rings and rings, and I’m too anxious to do the math of what time it is back home in Dublin, until Rian answers.
Relief floods me at the sound of his voice.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
“It’s me, you bastard, the sister you sold to the Americans.”
He sounds overjoyed. “Fucking Fallie. Is it really you?”
“Yes, Chim. I’m alive.”
“Fantastic. That’s good to hear. You got your own phone? Should I save this number?”
“Save it, please.”
“I take it they’re being good to you.”
I slip money into the slot machine and poke the button. It clicks, but nothing else happens. The money disappears into an invisible system. “That’s one way of putting it. Jayson bought me a mobile with an international plan alongside my own laptop, but I wouldn’t say things are good.”
“Are they being kind at least? Is he hurting you?”
“No, he’s not,” I say quickly, though I’m not sure why I’m defending him. Jayson hasn’t touched me, not in a way that I didn’t like at least, though I think Rian might not like to hear about some of the physical interactions I’ve had with my husband.
“Good. Very good. I’m really happy to hear you’re okay, Fallie. I’ve been thinking about you.”
“How are things back home?”
“Dull, actually. Now that the fighting’s done, we’re getting back to business. The Costa people are being surprisingly helpful, and we’re starting to set up some good partnerships. I’m optimistic.”
“Glad my sacrifice isn’t in vain.”
“Fallie,” he says and he sounds sorry about it at least. “You know I hate that it’s like this.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever. Tell the girls I miss them, would you? I’ll tell them myself eventually, I’m just not sure when I’ll be up for calling all the cousins and such.”
“Take your time. They all know what you’re going through and we’re all thinking about you.”
“I’m sure.” But I don’t add: how long will that thinking last? How long until they forget that I’m alive because I’m stuck over here in America? A year or even less? I could be home by then, but when I get there, will anyone care?
He goes on to talk about the family, all the uncles and aunts, the soldiers and their friends. All the stupid dramatic clan shit, the gossip and infighting, everything he’s got to deal with. I don’t envy him at all—Rian’s dealing with almost as much trouble as I’m fighting through, even though he gets to be home while it all goes down.