Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“No. I’ve only got a few minutes. I have you on speaker while I get dressed. Max and Ames should be here soon to discuss damage control.”
“Damage control for what?” She paced the bedroom.
“The stupid lip-syncing claims. I told you this.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was a big deal.”
“My reputation—my career—spiraling down the toilet? Nope, no big deal.”
“But if it’s not true, then I don’t see why you’re concerned.”
Ian sighed. “If your name gets dragged through the mud, even if the claims turn out to be false, it still leaves a mark. And it’s the worst timing because I’ve had issues with my voice. So while the claims are not true, they are believable. It’s like claiming you’re not having an affair then pulling a woman’s panties out of your pocket because you picked up the wrong jacket from the coat check. The fucking stress is killing me.”
“Well, don’t let the stress kill you.”
That’s my job.
She pulled her lower lip. “Your voice must be better.”
“Yes, but it hasn’t stopped the rumors. Any news on your passport?”
“Nope.”
“How’s Chris?” Ian said his name like he had a piece of sour candy lodged in his throat.
“You know … I’ve been meaning to ask you about your conversation with him before you left. Did you really say you’d kill him if he touched me?”
“Yes.”
Jersey paused her pacing to let her jaw hang in the wind. She didn’t really question if he said it. Chris had no reason to lie to her. She just didn’t expect Ian to own it without a bit of hesitation, with such matter-of-fact confidence.
“You sound pretty tough for a guy whose most dangerous weapon is a microphone.”
“Would you like me to underestimate you the way you underestimate me?” he asked.
“Oh, Coop … I think you do that anyway. But I’m curious. Are we talking poisoning him or something better fitted for a rich person?”
“Like hiring a hitman?” Genuine curiosity carried his words through the phone.
Jersey bit her thumbnail for a few seconds before making her move. “No. I think rich people just run other people over with their cars.”
Silence.
More silence.
Her chest tightened, restricting a little more oxygen with each passing second. Why didn’t he respond? Joke about the absurdity. Return a cynical laugh. Something!
“I have to go.”
“What?” she managed to whisper the word, in spite of the nauseating knot in her stomach.
“Um …” He sounded distracted. “I have to go. I’ll uh … call you later. Bye.”
Jersey didn’t get a goodbye out before he ended the call. She barely got a breath out. The phone dropped from her hand, and she squatted to pick it up, but she couldn’t stand. The room began to spin. She covered her eyes. “Coop …”
Did the real bed, daily meals, clean clothes, and actual shampoo make her weak? Chris was right. She’d been given exactly what she wanted—the prime chance at revenge—but she lost her focus.
Ian killed Dena and Charles. He had to die. Jersey couldn’t have a sexy rock star boyfriend and revenge. She had to make a choice.
The following week Jersey’s passport arrived. “I got it.” She held it up for Chris to see.
He set his book down on the sofa next to him and steepled his fingers at his mouth. “We move into the next phase.”
Jersey inspected it, flipping through the pages. “Yeah.”
“Don’t sound so excited.”
She grabbed her phone and texted Max.
Got my passport
“Excited … I’m not comfortable with that word. And maybe my limited vocabulary prevents me from finding the right word to express how I feel, but it’s not excited.”
Max replied.
I’ll book you a flight for tomorrow
Jersey continued, “I don’t think the executioners in prisons get excited. Well, maybe a few fucked-up ones do, but I think for most of them it’s a job. They are doing their part to serve justice in the world.
“When I kill Ian, it won’t excite me. It will simply be an end—justice for Dena and Charles. I won’t feel any pride. I won’t celebrate. After all, I’m most likely going to end up lying on a cold table with a needle in my arm and poison dripping into my veins.”
Her eyes glassed over as she sighed. “It’s probably how my life is meant to go. But I hope you can walk away and find something that makes you happy. Maybe you’ll come into some money and you can pay for the surgeries you said would make your face look a little more …” Jersey’s nose wrinkled.
“Human?”
She nodded. “Maybe you’ll remember your past. What if you have a family and they just think you’re dead? I mean … you could be a dad, Chris. I know I have nothing, but you could have everything waiting for you if your memory comes back. So …” Jersey gave him a resolute nod. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”