Page 79 of For Wrath and Redemption
I watch as my message goes from delivered to read within seconds. Her reply comes immediately after.
Trouble
Are you in a PR crisis?
No.
Then no, I am not alive. I will be dead until Sunday.
I smirk and bite my lip to stifle a laugh. It’s been four days since I’ve talked to her, and Tor is right. I’ve been a miserable asshole.
I’ve already written a eulogy.
Fuck off.
I bark out a laugh. Then, because I’m flooded with dopamine or some bullshit, I send another text. A stupid one. Anhonestone.
Imiss your sass.
The message is read, and I wait for her reply. Chat bubbles pop up, then disappear. Pop up, then disappear again. My father’s voice sounds again from the receiver, and I grit my teeth.
“Jonah, what the hell is?—”
“I saidhold. I know you’re not accustomed to waiting, but you’re going to have to?—”
My sass or my ass?
Claire’s message comes through and momentarily shocks me. I read it three times before my brain comprehends, and then I’m grinning. Like all out ear-to-ear, lip-splitting grin.
Do I have to choose?
More chat bubbles. Another seconds long wait that seems like years. The way I’m feeling at this moment is embarrassing. It’s a fucking text conversation, and here I am panting impatiently for my next hit.
Go do something productive, Hendrix. I’ll see you Sunday.
I’m still smiling when I put the phone back to my ear.
“She’s busy.”
“Jonah, for fuck’s sake. Tell her I need?—”
“Tell her yourself.”
“Then give her the fucking phone.”
There goes my good mood. Now I want to light something on fire. Someone.
“No can do, Dad. She’s busy. She’s here towork, remember? You should know that since you’re her boss. Send her an email. I’m sure she’ll get back to you expeditiously.”
He grows quiet, but I can picture his face. Scowling. Jaw hard. Nostrils flaring. Eyes condescending and freezing fucking cold. It’s been years, but it still gives me the worst kind of chills. I take another drag from my cigarette.
“Yes, Son. She is there towork. Any other behaviors will be cause for termination. Do you understand?”
“I don’t, actually. Please explain.”
“Wearing your jacket on the rooftop ofTorre de Belém,Jonah? Posting her on your social media?”
My heartbeat thuds loudly in my head. My blood boils, singeing my skin. I speak slowly, calmly, but inside I’m raging. How fucking dare this man.
