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“Yeah, I did. That’s why I came to see Jeremiah. I was with you in the cafeteria—”
“Not that news. The latest news.”
Cold prickled at my scalp. “No. Why, what happened?”
“Just you, ranting and swearing at the news reporters at the bureau office?”
“That was on the news?” I didn’t remember any of them filming.
“Yes, it was on the news,” Dad hissed at me. “There was a lot of words beeped out, which I should probably be grateful for.”
I made a disgusted sound. “You know what? Fuck them. They deserved everything I said, and I’m not sorry.”
“You should be sorry!” he said, a little too loudly. It reminded me of when he’d get mad at us kids for doing something stupid. He hadn’t yelled at me like that in years.Shit, he is really mad.“Tully, do me a favour and look down at the shirt you’re wearing. And tell me what thehell you were thinking!”
I looked down at my shirt... at my work shirt, with our company logo across my left pec.
Oh no.
“Oh shit,” I mumbled, covering it with my hand—what good it did now was anyone’s guess. “Oh fu... Dad, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise. I didn’t think. I was just so freakin’ mad at what they’d done, and then when I saw them all lined up at the gate like wolves at the door.” My eyes met Jeremiah’s. “I’ll issue an apology on behalf of the company, or—”
“You’ll do no such thing,” my father said. He was definitely in boss mode now. “You’ll not say another word. I don’t care if they shove a camera in your face, you will keep your head down. Say no comment, or better yet, say nothing at all.”
Hmm.
Yeah, I don’t think so.
Anger flared in my belly, burning hot in my chest.
“You know what, Dad?” I said. “I fucked up and I’m sorry for that. But if those leeches come for Jeremiah again, I won’t keep my head down, and I won’t keep my mouth shut.”
Jeremiah slid his hand onto my knee and shook his head, silently telling me no.
It only solidified my resolve. “What they did was wrong, Dad,” I continued. “Where’s their accountability? Where’s their apology to him? And I won’t apologise for what I said or how I said it because for that, I’m not fuckin’ sorry.”
“Tully—” he snapped, but my mother’s softer tone cut him off.
“Tully,” she said, “for what it’s worth, personally, we agree with you. But professionally, we now have a media PR circus to deal with, on top of emergency shipping offloads, fast-tracking quarantine regs, clearing the docks, and battening down hatches.”
I sighed, running my hand through my hair. I felt bad enough, but gawd, a mother’s disappointment weighed too damn much.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“What time will you be home?” she asked.
“After eight,” I replied. “I’m not leaving Jeremiah here by himself.”
Jeremiah frowned at me. “I’ll be okay, you can go if you need,” he whispered, just as another alert came through that he had to switch the alarm off for.
“Then we’ll be at your place after eight,” Mum said. “We’ll bring dinner.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. What could I say? Not that it mattered, because the line went dead. I tossed my phone onto the control panel. “Fuck.”
“What happened?” Jeremiah asked. “I heard most of what your father said, sorry. He spoke rather loudly.”
I sighed again. “My little tirade at those fuckers at the gate this morning made the news.”
“Oh.”
