Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 82767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Chapter 17
FREYA
“I AM NOT trying to tell you what to do,” Drew pleaded. His voice was crackly over a bad phone connection.
“Isn’t that exactly what you are trying to do?” I demanded.
“I’m thinking of you!”
We had been discussing my job at Clover House, and specifically the trip to Ireland. Drew had called me, and I had thought it was to make plans for the weekend, but instead he had given me a long list of reasons why I should quit and forget about the trip.
“If this is what you called me for, you are wasting your time. I have thought this over, and it’s not something I am doing lightly,” I said quietly after an awkward silence had fallen between us.
“Freya, please.” His tone was suddenly heartfelt. “I think this Keegan guy is the most likely candidate behind the theft of Animagic.”
“Then all the more reason for me to be there! If I don’t find proof – who will?” I was getting frustrated with this.
“Then if he goes down for this, you will go down,” he said flatly. “Corporate espionage is a thing, you know. Or maybe he will find out about who you are before that stage, and we don’t know what he is capable of!”
“It’s not the mafia, Drew,” I said, not wanting to admit that Keegan’s criminal past had been on my mind a lot.
“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” he said quietly.
“Neither do you!” I countered angrily. “And I am absolutely able to look after myself. I was doing perfectly fine before…”
“Before what?” I could hear the smile in his voice, and it irritated me even more. How dare he proceed to tell me how to live my life?
“Before you decided to start telling me what to do!” I said.
“I have your best interests at heart, Freya,” he said, and the patronizing tone finished me.
“I have my best interests at heart thank you very much, so maybe you should just do you,” I snapped.
There was another silence, and he sighed. “We can talk about this tonight.”
“I’m going out tonight,” I replied. I had been a little reluctant to go out tonight with Taylor but this decided it – I was going.
“Fine,” he said and hung up. The cheek of him hanging up on me made me furious, and I threw my phone across the bed.
I sat on the bed for a while, hot angry tears threatening to come. I was angry with Drew, but I was also angry with myself. He had a point. What I was doing was risky. Risky, but not dangerous! I thought about Keegan, and the usual uneasiness I felt about him returned. I reached over to the closet and flicked the door open, gazing at the clothes inside and wondering what Effie Hancock wore on a night out. Maybe she had a wild side. I suddenly remembered something and got up and rooted around in the back of the closet, pulling out a black dress entirely covered in tiny sequins. It had been an impulse buy in a sample sale, and I knew as soon as I left the store that I was never going to wear it. But Effie Hancock could. In fact, there was a deep red lipstick in the bathroom vanity that had been a similarly random purchase. If I wanted to forget everything – Drew, Clover House, Keegan, the Ireland trip – then being Effie Hancock was the perfect escape. I sent a quick text to Taylor to say I couldn’t wait to go out – so that I couldn’t back out – and headed to the shower.
An hour later I stood in front of the mirror. I had used warm browns with just a hint of copper on my eyes, the deep red lipstick, and I had straightened my hair, something I rarely did, so it hung down my back in a sleek curtain of red and gold. I pulled the dress up over my hips and wiggled my butt to try to fit into it. The phone rang and I lay across the bed to reach it, half in and half out of the dress, answering the call hastily.
“Hi! Sorry, I almost missed you! I am trying to squeeze my ass into an impossibly tiny dress…”
“Really?” said Keegan’s voice. “Well, I’m very sorry to interrupt you…” he sounded strange, and I closed my eyes in embarrassment. He had never called me outside of office hours.
“Shit,” I said, and then closed my eyes again. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else. What can I do for you?”
“I need you to send over your details for the flight. It’s booked, but they need some info from you,” he slurred his words ever so slightly.
“Are you… are you okay?” I asked, trying to sound professional and failing.
“I’m great. I’m rich and happy, and the world is my oyster. I’m just sorting the flights,” he said, laughing. He was clearly drunk.