"Jules!" I yell her name as soon as I get upstairs before walking quickly toward the stereo to turn that crap down.
It looks as if a bomb has exploded. Clothes and cosmetics are everywhere. The kitchen resembles a battlefield, and the pungent stench of chemicals emanates from the bathroom. I wonder what Jules and Sophie have done here, but they’re nowhere to be seen.
When I yell a second time, Jules comes out of her old bedroom, looking pissed. "What?"
"Have you lost your mind? I could hear the fucking music all the way outside. How many times do I have to tell you that?—"
"Calm down," she interrupts me, irritated. "We’re allowed to have a little fun, aren’t we?"
"Not when you’re blasting half the city with it!"
"You’re overreacting. Nobody’s going to start a mob just because some music comes out of these old walls," she says, annoyed, and goes to the kitchen.
"Where’s Sophie?"
Jules takes two bottles of Coke from the fridge. "In her room."
I tilt my head, hoping I have that one wrong. "I’m sorry…whatdid you just say?"
"Are you deaf?" Jules turns to me and puts one hand on her hip while holding the two bottles in the other.
"What do you mean, inherroom?"
She looks at me with raised brows as if I were slow-witted. "Well, she has to sleep somewhere. And neither you nor I need that room, so it’sherroom now."
When I want to ask her if she’s lost her mind because she’s going over my head deciding who sleeps where inmyfucking house, I hear a knock from downstairs.
"I have to go. Make sure Sophie stays upstairs," I instruct Jules.
She rolls her eyes and turns away.
Goddamn. This conversation is far from over.
Steve and one of his henchmen sit next to me at the old table in the otherwise empty basement. Mo, a beefy and somewhat stupid guy, is using chalk to trace the circle on the floor, which is in the center of the large room and has a diameter of about fifteen feet.
"You’re kidding, right?" Steve asks while staring at me.
Returning his gaze, I light a cigarette. "I wish I were."
"That’s too short notice. The first ones are already arriving in two hours. We can’t reschedule or call it off." His voice allows no argument. "Why are you even asking? It’s never been a problem before."
I take a deep drag before answering. "Just forget about it. It’s fine."
It was to be expected that he wouldn’t like my suggestion. And I have to admit that he’s right. It’s simply too late.
"But you’re still in, aren’t you?" he asks while taking out his notebook before flipping through the pages.
"Yes."
"Good. You’re last." He closes the book again, lays it on the table, and strokes his shaved head with one hand. "Make sure you’re focused. I’ve put a lot of money on you."
"Have I evernotbeen focused?" I ask irritably because his remarks annoy me.
He just shrugs but doesn’t say anything else.
"Everything’s fine," I assure him. "It will go as it always does."
"Umm… hello?" Mo’s voice suddenly drifts to us. I follow Steve’s gaze as he turns toward the stairs.
