Page 15 of The Passion

Rem gave me her cell number this morning with the warning that it was only for emergencies.

Like he was stupid enough to think I wouldn’t use it. But he felt better knowing he had given me the lecture and then he could wipe his hands of blame when she complains that I called.

I listen to the ringing, and I’m starting to think she is going to let my call go to voicemail.

Who am I kidding, if she’s anything like the rest of us in this industry, she will still be working at seven at night, on the phone or in a meeting.

Just before it clicks into her messages, the call is disconnected.

Before I have time to hit her name and call again, a message pops up.

Felisha: I told you I would call!

Flynn: I don’t answer to you.

Felisha: Ditto.

Flynn: We need to talk. My place 8pm. I’ll send my driver.

Felisha: No.

Flynn: Don’t piss me off, Felisha.

Felisha: Ditto.

“Ughhhh!” I growl, kicking the stupid toy mouse across the room, rebounding it off my apartment’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

Sassy, my cat, just looks up at me from her cat bed by the fireplace that is not on. After all, it’s summer in London, so you don’t need it because it’s so warm. I almost laugh at that thought, because after living in Australia through fifteen summers, these English people have no idea what the hell hot is.

“You could at least think about chasing it and not lying there like the queen you think you are. What is it with you freaking women?”

Standing slowly, she digs her claws into her bed. Lifting them up and down a few times to fluff the material below her, shedoes three circles and then side-eyes me, lies back down, and proceeds to stretch out and close her eyes again.

Basically, a fuck-you to me for waking her up and disturbing her beauty sleep. Which just pisses me off more.

“I thought animals are supposed to be good for the stress levels. Make you feel calm and loved.” I wait for her to give me something, but all I hear is her soft purr as she slips back into deep sleep.

“Well, you might think it’s okay for her to ignore me, but I don’t. This isn’t over.”

For fuck’s sake, I’m talking to myself. I really am losing it lately.

Flynn: Are you vegetarian?

Felisha: What?

Flynn: Are you vegetarian? Simple question.

Felisha: What is wrong with you!

Flynn: So many things, I’ve been told, but that’s for another day.

Flynn: I’ll take that as a no. Steak it is.

Flynn: Or perhaps you prefer chicken.

Flynn: I’ll cook both. 8pm. Don’t be late!

Flynn: You have 59 minutes. I won’t wait.

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