Page 22 of War

“Chenoweth?”

“No.”

“Smithfield?”

She paused then went back to typing. “No.”

“It's not fucking ‘Rumpelstiltskin,’ is it?”

She laughed. “Nope.”

“Dammit, I'm running out of names.”

She hummed innocently. “Give up? How's your Cockney accent?”

I growled. “I'll never admit defeat.”

As she laughed again, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and used the browser to bring up a list of popular surnames. I blinked sleepily at the screen. My all-nighter was starting to wear on me.

“Isn't using outside sources cheating?” she asked.

“No. It's cheating if I find out your actual name by outside means. This should be considered research, which is fair game.”

She chuckled. “Okay.”

I started reading names from the list. Thirty names in and every name received a resounding no.

“I should look you up on social media,” I grumbled.

“Good luck with that,” she said.

“Why? Do you not have any accounts?”

“Oh, I do. But none of them have my last name.”

“Seriously? Fuck.”

Amantha laughed again.

I put my phone down on my lap and ran my hands through my hair. “Let's take a lunch break,” I suggested.

Amantha glanced at the clock. “It's only 11:30.”

“That's okay. Just take your break from 11:30 to 12:30. It'll be fine.”

“I was told 12 to 1. That's what we're doing.”

“Ugh. If you insist. I'm taking a nap. Wake me up at noon, would ya?”

“Sure.”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. Sleep quickly overcame me.

Chapter 11

“Zion. Wake up, buddy,” a muffled voice came into my dream.

I was dreaming about spending a relaxing day in bed with a pink-haired beauty. I’d never done that with anyone before but I didn't want to leave that bed.

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