“You’re pushing it.”
“Then hit me, but tell me who I can speak with.”
He sighed. “He doesn’t want to speak with you yet; he’s waiting for you to get stronger.”
“The Director?”
“Yes. Now rest.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to come looking for us.”
“You took what’s mine.”
He snorted. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate your help.”
“I want to see him. Please.”
“He’s… occupied.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Get some rest, Jonah.”
He turned to leave, but before he could reach the door, I asked, “What’s The Director’s name?”
He glanced at me, his expression somber. “It’s Bo. I think you two know each other.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
1992
“The camera you’ve picked should arrive tomorrow. Make sure to test it before the shoot.”
“Yes, sir.” I took a sip of wine, a pleasant tipsiness nesting behind my eyes. These days, it took a lot more alcohol to affect me, but The Director had luckily grown tolerant of my need to unwind. He still made his disapproval known, but it was more for show.
I took a bite of tofu, fried just right with soy sauce. Even after six months of captivity, I didn’t know who prepared the food. My world had become a bubble of familiar activities and responsibilities, all revolving around The Director’s needs. Whenever I found myself resenting my existence and dwelling in self-pity, I only needed to watch the other captives and their daily hell. Bo liked to say I walked around with invisible armor, but that didn’t stop him from finding ways to pierce it.
The Director took a bite of his steak and glanced at my plate. “You need protein.”
“Tofu’s protein.” I cut a juicy piece with my fork and offered it to him. “Try.”
He eyed the tofu as if I were holding a dirty sock, but he still ate it from my fork. We were sitting at the dining room table,ridiculously large for two people. Classical music played in the background.
“I suppose it’s fine,” The Director said once he finished chewing. “If you don’t care much for flavor.”
“I won’t tell if you want more.”
“Don’t push it.”
I snickered into my wine. “Do you have time for chess later?” I still wasn’t a fan of the game, but it usually went on for a long time, keeping me away from Bo.
“I can find the time, and remind me to give you the new poetry books that Eliot has sent for you.”
“Hmm, thanks.” I hated how he remained a presence in my life and how I had to bite my tongue about him.
“What a heartwarming sight.”
I froze mid-bite. The Director tensed, his lips twitching.
Mr. White walked into the dining room, wearing an immaculate dark suit. “I hope I’m not interrupting. This looks romantic.”
