Page 210 of The Silent Note

Me: Dad will go in for the kill during his speech. We need to hurry.

Hands shaking slightly, I send another message.

Me: Is Grey with you?

Finn: Yeah, she’s with me. But you knew that.

I did but the tracker isn’t one hundred percent accurate.

I slide to the tab that shows Grey’s location. The tracker is blinking a nice, steady red. I almost had a heart attack when the app went offline yesterday. It felt like I’d lost a limb.

Me: Is everything ready?

Finn: Dutch and Cadence are there with Vi. Sol had his lap dog calling all the news stations. It’ll spread.

Me: This is Grey’s official ribbon cutting. Nothing can go wrong.

Finn: I know.

Me: No delays, Finn. Or dad will cut in line.

Finn: Yeah, yeah. Stop nagging.

Me: And don’t tell her I was involved or she won’t listen to you. Just tell her everything was arranged by Jinx.

Finn doesn’t answer.

I text back, but he ignores me.

The bastard.

Feeling restless, I swipe to Grey’s phone number. I’ve started and erased messages over a million times since we split, but I haven’t had the guts to contact her at all. The brokenness in her eyes when she told me she never wanted to see me again is like a ghost haunting me.

Knowing she hates me and doesn’t want me around makes me miss her more. Sometimes, I catch myself talking to her before I realize that she’s not there.

Hell, once, I tried to summon Sloane to me. At least then, I could ask her how Grey was doing.

Sloane didn’t show.

She’s probably mad at me too.

After being rejected by my wife and the ghost of her best friend, all I have is this blinking red light.

My most precious possession.

A nudge to my back wakes me from my thoughts. One of dad’s aides, a brunette with a flirty, practiced smile, has her hand on me.

“Your dad,” she mouths and points.

I swing around and see that dad is gesturing to me. The cameras have all turned this way. My face fills the big television screens on either side of the stage.

I barely recognize myself.

Who’s that yuppy on screen? The one in a baby-blue dress shirt tucked into cream pants and Oxfords? The one not wearing any rings or leather bracelets, the one hiding all his tattoos? That’s not me. That’s the dog and pony show dad ordered.

I smile for the crowd, waving in the way dad expects me to. His supporters cheer at the sight of me, responding in exactly the way they’re supposed to, almost as if it’s staged.

The camera pans away and dad continues his speech, throwing in buzz words like ‘family man’ and ‘traditional morals’ as if they mean squat. I’ve been in the front row for a ton of these now and it still makes me want to puke.

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