I’m a baby sister that’s had enough.That’swho I am.
On any other day, I’d find their reactions humorous. After the last several weeks, between the serial killer and now this? I’m done.
I square my shoulders and meet her gaze. “Don’tfuckwith me on this. We have everything to lose here. I’m a partner in this agency. It’s not just you on the line. And then there’s JJ.”
At the mention of him, or possibly my dropping the f-bomb, Charlie’s eyebrows hike up. Yes, my sister’s reasonable self has returned.
“Charlie.” JJ reaches for her, setting his big hand on her arm. “As much as it’s killing me, let Meg handle it.”
“One minute!” The bitch of a reporter screams.
Charlie stares at the door a few seconds then comes back to me. “Fine. Don’t screw it up.”
Nothing like a vote of confidence from the mighty Charlie Schock.
I turn away and head to the door, checking behind me before opening it to make sure the happy couple are out of sight.
“Meg,” Matt says.
I hold up my hand. I don’t need additional chatter. What I need is five damned seconds to settle myself. I do it. Just stand there with my hand in Matt’s face while I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Then another.Breathe. In and out.Breathe.
Mercifully, the reporter has paused her yelling.
Breathe. Three, two, one.
I open my eyes and turn to Matt, meeting his crystal blue gaze. “I’ve got this.”
“I know you do. All I was going to say is I’ll come out with you.”
Such a good guy. I’m so grateful. “Thank you. You’re…amazing.”
“Charlize Schock!”
Oh, this bitch. I rip open the door. “Stop that goddamned yelling.”
Whoa! Not exactly the calm approach, but whatever.
“Meg,” Lily spits out, as if my name is acid on her tongue. “I want to speak to your sister.”
Beside me, Matt places his hand on my lower back, offering a warning pat. I can’t get sucked into a brawl with Lily. Not on camera.
Right now I need to be Charlie-lite. Confident, poised and assertive.
Charlie-lite.
I step outside crowding Lily and the reporter. They move back. My first victory.Yay, me.
Behind me, Matt closes the door, letting Lily and her blonde cohort know this will end on our doorstep.
I face the blonde. “Who are you?”
“I’m Joclyn Blanchard from Crime Weekly.”
Crime Weekly? Seriously? After looking like the wounded mother on YouTube, Lily coming to our door with an organization known for sensational—and often-times untrue—reporting won’t win her any credibility. Then again, maybe she’s not interested in the truth.
Perhaps all Lily wants is attention. Any way she can get it.
This from the wife of a nationally recognized news anchor.