Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“What?” I ask, sighing. “What did I miss?”
Her eyes widen a fraction. “Nothing, it can wait. What’s going on? You haven’t touched your lunch, and you don’t look… your usual vibrant self.”
“Do you ever get the feeling those closest to you are the ones conspiring against you?”
She chews slowly, weighing up how to respond. “Well…” she starts, swallowing her mouthful, “when I was seven, my brother convinced me to steal a twenty-pack of colored connector pens. You know… when they became all the rage? Anyway, he convinced me it was a good idea, and who was I to know better, I was only eight. So, I did it. I went to the corner store newsagency. Mr. Chang knew my family well, but I didn’t take that into consideration. He greeted me by name when I walked in, and when he was busy serving another customer, I went to the stationary aisle and found the markers in question. I remember feeling a sense of adrenaline and nerves. The packet was huge but flat, so when my aisle was clear, I was able to stuff it up my sweater. I walked back down the store with my arms folded tightly across my chest, holding the markers in place.
“I think back and realize how obvious it would have been, but back then, I thought I’d become an expert thief. What I didn’t know, and what my brother failed to tell me, was that the store had those round security mirrors hanging up in the ceiling corners and Mr. Chang had watched the whole event unfold.
“I was halfway over the threshold with my foot still in the air, thinking I was home free. Watching my brother sitting on his bike in the parking lot smirking, Chang grabbed me by the hood of my sweater and yanked me back inside, the markers slipping out and onto the ground. I’d been caught red-handed, yet I still pleaded my innocence because my big brother had also failed to tell me what to do and say in the event of getting caught. I was such an idiot to believe him.
“Anyway, Chang called my dad. Back in those days everyone was listed in the white pages. Minutes later, Dad arrived all humble and apologetic for my behavior. I remember we both stood at the counter talking with Mr. Chang and my dad had a firm grip around my neck. It took all the strength I had not to wet my pants.
“When we got home, my father did the one thing I wasn’t expecting. He didn’t punish me, and trust me he wasn’t shy in delivering heavy-handed beatings, but this time was different… this time he ignored me. I’d hurt him, and his disappointment in me was worse than receiving the usual punishment. When I tried to apologize, he acted as if I weren’t even in the same room as him. For a week, he didn’t speak or even glance at me. All while my brother, the one who’d convinced me to become a thief in the first place, walked around the house still wearing the same obnoxious smirk knowing Daddy’s little girl had fallen from grace and he could be the favorite child for at least a week.
“So, I mean… with that in mind, I know what it’s like to have had those closest conspire against me before.”
I purse my lips together, humored by her story. I guess she could relate in a way. It’s all relative.
“So, that explains why our stationary budget is always maxed out.”
“Ha-ha, very fucking funny,” she says through a mouthful of lettuce. “For the record, my father never quite forgave me for it. May have had something to do with the fact I committed the crime on Father’s Day. So, what’s going on with you? Why do you think people are conspiring against you?”
I push my salad bowl away, my appetite long gone. “I don’t think it. I know it.”
Amanda waves her fork. “Are you going to leave me guessing?”
I decide not to delve into my marital woes. That’s something purely reserved for my attorney appointment. “What do you know about Charlotte Street?”
She frowns. “I know you should probably go with a loaded wallet.” Amanda narrows her eyes and studies me closely. “What specifically do you want to know?”
“Well—”
I’m interrupted when my cell chimes. An email from Kane lights up my screen.
Dinner tonight at 8. I’ll pick you up.
Yours,
Kane.
I hit reply feeling that familiar thud in my chest.
Dear Kane,
I may already have plans.
Blythe.
In a heartbeat, he responds.
Cancel them. You’re mine tonight.
I shiver and my stomach butterflies. Amanda notices and grins. “Now there’s the Blythe we all know and love. What just got you all hot under the collar?”
“It’s nothing,” I lie, not wanting the hundred questions that will follow if I tell her. “But I do have a task for you.”