Page 147 of Joey

“I’m on my side,” he said.

“Great. Me too. We’re all on your side. And you don’t really have anything to lose, you know. Because none of this is yours.”

He got up, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Poured us drinks, sat back down, gave one to me, and we clinked glasses as we sipped.

“You’re sure you’re up for this?” he asked.

“I’ve been preparing for this my whole life.”

And even though I didn’t really know that was true when I said it, I do now.

Sure, Johnny bought me and gave me to Miklos. But Miklos didn’t have to teach me the things he did. He didn’t have to give me the weird combination of skills I have. He didn’t have to turn me into a con woman. Miklos made me into the person I am today for a reason. Maybe he knew what that reason was when he did it, and maybe he didn’t. But somewhere along the line, my purpose in life manifested.

And it was all his doing.

So again… maybe it’s fate?

I get up from my chair and smooth my skirt. I copied that Big Pharma bitch. Remember her and her pink and grey suit? Only I chose a skirt instead of pants. Because… men, right?

Then I smile at the assistant, who is waiting to walk me into the internal offices, and follow her down the hallway.

She knocks once on Michael Conner’s door, then opens it one inch. “Ms. Birch to see you, Mr. Conner,” she whispers.

I hear nothing, but she must, because she smiles at me and opens the door just enough so I can slide in.

Michael doesn’t even look up from his computer, just type-type-types away and says, “Take a seat, Ms. Birch. I’ll be right with you.”

I smile at the receptionist as she closes the door.

That was my first hurdle and I got over it.

Because if he had looked up that door would still be open and security would be coming through it.

But he didn’t.

I take a seat, smooth my skirt again, and say, “We’re ready to make you an offer, Michael.”

His eyes snap up from the computer and squint at me. “You,” he says.

“Me,” I say brightly. And then I hold up a hand because he’s already got his finger on the button that will get me the hell out of here. “Before you do that,” I say, “I’m here with a message from Johnny Boston.”

Oh, that glare he shoots me should be illegal. It’s filled with so much hate. So much loathing.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “It’s not for the reason you think. We’re on the same side this time, Michael.”

“I highly doubt that, Ms. Alder. Cute name, by the way.”

“Wasn’t it clever?” I ask. “An alder is a kind of birch. I’m pretty sure Johnny would’ve seen past that little charade, but… I’m really glad you’re not as astute as he is.”

“Why are you here?” he snaps.

I take a fresh, crisp, white envelope out of my pink padfolio, stand up, and place it on his desk.

“What’s this?”

“Our offer,” I say.

“Give it to my lawyers. Maisy isn’t going anywhere. I thought I made that clear, but if you need more convincing—”