Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77354 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I’m still holding on to some threads of hope. Efa could be lying—it could all have been an elaborate misdirection to protect her or whoever she’s working for.
Every time I think of her, it’s like slicing open a fresh wound. I just want to put a bandage on and forget about her.
Heal.
I’ve got to push past it and get through tonight.
Aarvi and I went through the devices that could track the attacks. We’ve got the same thing that Efa used, and then something bigger with quicker processing power that’s the size of a tablet. I’ve had it sewn into my jacket and I’ll keep it nearby.
I’m the first to arrive after Leo. Worth hands me a glass of whisky with an oversized ice cube, like he’s been expecting me.
“Cheers,” he says, holding up his own glass.
Leo knocks my glass with his beer bottle and we head to the sofa.
As if it’s uncomfortable, I take my cell from my pants pocket and slide it onto the table in front of us. Except it’s not uncomfortable and it’s not my cell. It’s the tracker.
At least Nadia's not going to be here. I’m sure she’s fine in different circumstances, but having someone else here on a Monday night, among the six of us, alters the dynamic.
The dynamic.
Can our easy friendship really have been faked for all these years? And if it started off real, when did it go sour? How long has Leo been pretending? And is it personal to me or does he hate us all? Was I a planned target or just in the wrong place at the wrong time?
“You okay?” Worth asks, pulling my attention from my own thoughts.
“Yeah,” I reply.
“How’s Efa?” he asks.
I glance across at Leo, who’s wrestling with the remote control. I turn my attention back to Worth and shrug.
“Had a fight?”
I nod. “She’s young,” I say. I don’t want to get into it.
“She didn’t seem that way to me,” Worth says. “But I haven’t spent much time with her.”
She doesn’t seem that way to me, either. I don’t know if it’s because her parents died when she was so young or that she’s had to put up with so much since, but she was older than her years. Apart from that first night together, I never really noticed the age gap between us.
But was that part of the plan? Maybe she just tried to be everything I might have wanted in order to get close to me.
I rub the bridge of my nose. My mind’s still so full of her. I can’t keep a lid on my thoughts. The more I try to push her away, the more vivid my memories.
“How’s work?” I ask Worth. When he doesn’t answer, I glance over at him.
He looks between Leo and me. “Good.”
“Good,” I say.
Is it me making this awkward, or is it Worth? Is he in on it? Does he know what Leo is doing? Are they all trying to bring me down?
“I’m going for a shit,” I say. I need some time to recalibrate. If I carry on like this, I’ll give the game away.
“Thanks for telling us,” Leo says. “Do you need one of us to help or something?”
“Fuck off,” I say, and it feels like the first honest thing I’ve said since I got here. If Aarvi and Efa turn out to be right, I will ruin Leo.
There will be nothing anyone can do to stop me from bringing him to his knees in every way imaginable. He will end up rotting in a southeast Asian prison, penniless, his reputation ruined.
But I need proof first.
I leave my phone on the table. As I stand, I wonder if I should take my jacket with me. If someone picks it up, it’ll be clear that I’m carrying something in there. But if I take my jacket to the bathroom, I’m sure to get shit for it.
In the end, I abandon it and head out. Hopefully by the time I get back, Jack, Fisher, and Byron will have arrived, and Worth’s spotlight will be off me.
I head back into the living room exactly seven minutes later. I figure that’s an acceptable time to have a shit, not that I’ve ever timed myself.
I haven’t brought my actual cell with me. I didn’t want to risk having too many devices on me, but I can’t help wondering whether Aarvi has gotten the data she needs by now. I want to get out of here as soon as possible. But ESPN hasn’t even been turned on yet.
I’ve got hours of this torture left. I have to sit here, wondering who’s my friend and who’s my enemy. Did my mother feel this way all the time? Did she constantly wonder who was using her and who genuinely wanted to spend time in her company—not because she was rich or famous, just because they liked her?