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“Nobody’s died yet, and that’s my point.Yet,being the key word. It’s my fault you got dragged into this, Cass, so it’s my responsibility to drag you out.”
She frowns at me, and her head shakes defiantly side to side. “How do you figure? It’s not like you told Jason to give those creeps my name.”
“Jason wouldn’t even know your name if it wasn’t for me,” I point out. “It’s my fault he ever knew you existed in the first place. My bad decision to date him, even worse decision to trust him, and my most unforgivably bad decision to introduce him to you.” I brush the hair out of her face. “He’s my shit-wad ex, Cassidy. I can’t let you pay for his fuckups or weird tactics to get back at me for dumping him.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it again. She’s still glaring, but not at me. I can see the wheels turning furiously in her head as she tries to come up with an answer.
“Jason should be paying for it himself,” she says finally.
“Well, yeah, but that’s never going to happen,” I grumble and move to the freezer. I hurl the ice pack inside of it before grabbing out a bag of frozen broccoli before heading over to her. I press it carefully to her face. It’s an awkward thing to use for an ice pack, but it’s what I have available.
She sighs, wincing a little at the cold. “I know. Fucking dick… I told you he was an asshole. You remember me telling you that he was an asshole?”
“I remember,” I tell her with a frown. “And I promise, next time you tell me to dump a loser, I’ll dump the loser. Okay?”
“You’d better.” She sits quietly for a moment, letting me tend to her scrapes and bruises. “Just be careful, okay?”
I huff and gesture widely with my free arm before pointing to myself. “Come on, this is me! Careful is my middle name.”
“Your middle name is Frances,” she corrects, her good eye only a slit as she peers at me.
“Still better than Beatrice,” I say, a teasing tone in my voice.
Cassidy snorts, then whimpers as her swollen nose objects to the treatment. “Whatever,Frank. Just don’t get caught and die.”
“I won’t. Stop worrying, everything will work out,” I assert with a reassuring smile that is convincing to no one but Cassidy.
I wish I could lie to myself as easily as I lie to her. My belly is empty from the nervous vomiting I did when I asked the cabbie to pull over on the ride home, my knees are jelly, and my mouth is drier than a brut champagne. I’m moments from a full mental breakdown, followed by an emotional one, and probably a financial one to top it all off.
But my baby sister doesn’t need to know that.
* * *
“I’m gonna get fired,”I sing to myself softly as I look over the expensive pastries behind the bakery glass.
My phone’s been going off like crazy since I left work yesterday. Between Jason trying to get me to sext him and pestering me for updates, and Angela calling me to figure out why I left her short-handed yesterday, the stupid thing just won’t stop vibrating.
Today, it’s because I was supposed to clock in half an hour ago, and Ronnie’s been calling to tell me that Angela’s pissed. I should call and tell them why I can’t come in, but I just… can’t. How am I supposed to phrase it? And how can I possibly care about my waitressing gig when my sister’s life hangs in the balance?
Maybe it’s justmethat’s vibrating. I’ve never been so nervous in my life. The woman behind the counter at the bakery keeps giving me suspicious glances, and I don’t blame her. I’ve spent the last fifteen minutes second-guessing every impulsive decision. What the hell does an all-powerful CEO like to eat, anyway?
I finally decide on some ridiculously indulgent cupcakes. Cream-filled devil’s food cake topped with an actually mind-blowing amount of frosting that’s sprinkled with crystalized sugar. It’s a ‘blow your diet with a single bite’ sort of cupcake. I feel like that saysthank you for saving my life, but it might also say,please enjoy your sugar coma.
I pay for four of them—which, holy shit, never again unless I want to sell my car for cupcakes—and take the fancy box. The baker seems relieved to see me go, and I don’t blame her.
Note to self: try not to look completely insane when speaking to Lucas Hale’s staff members.
His office building is easy to find. It’s a shimmering steel and glass monstrosity which looks like it took inspiration from the Shard in London. Not that I’ve ever been, but I’ve seen pictures.
Hmm, maybe I should move to London. I’ll take Cassidy with me, and we’ll eat fish and chips and ride double decker buses… and whatever else they do in England. Have a drink at the pub, I guess? I could sure as hell use a drink right now, so it doesn’t sound like too bad of a plan. Especially as I walk into the lobby and feel the gravity of my mission settle on my shoulders with the grace of two anvils.
I can do this.It’ll be easy. Super easy, even. Snatch and grab, nothing to worry about. Everything is fine.I think I might puke again.
“Hi! I’m here to see Lucas Hale.”
I give the man at the reception desk a bright smile, hoping I look more like a professional, or even a delivery driver, than a crazed fanatic. Never in my life have I thought that waiting tables would prep me foranything, let alone a lifesaving mission. But here I am, yet again dishing out the same pseudo cheeriness that’s a daily special at Rinata.
He gives me a professional, friendly smile. “Name?”
