It’s disturbing, how easily the lie leaves my mouth. How well he’s trained me to lie to him.
“Neither your mother nor I knew where you were.” He looks over my clothes, his upper lip curling ever-so-slightly.
“I slept over with a friend who was kind enough to take me home.”
He looks skeptical but opts not to pursue that thread further. “You realize the private equity firm has factored your personal payout into the deal transaction, correct?”
I barely mask my grimace as I nod, crawling in my skin at the notion of receiving a paycheck from a private equity firm. I saw the clause in the emails.
When I took this job, I assumed my paycheck would come from a transfer of ownership. Not the fire sale of an entire community.
The emails.My pulse jumps as I vaguely recall spilling my bag last night. I haven’t checked to make sure the flash drive’s still in there.
“I’mnot going to embarrass myself by asking that they remove your commission, but believe me, I’d like to. This is your last chance.”
My future as a filmmaker—just another one of his dangling carrots. It sends my vision tunnelling, all the rage that’s built up in my neurons over the years threatening to short circuit.
I can’t do this anymore.
The money would be the lifeline I’ve been seeking my whole life, but I couldn’t live with myself, knowing where it’s coming from. I think of Coach Marshall, Ines, Poirier, Mattias, and all the rest. How hurt they would be, knowing how easily I threw away their livelihoods to bolster my own.
I’m not going to take the payout. I can’t.
“Understood, Dad,” I reply as dutifully as I can. Whatever I can say to get me the hell out of here. When he allows me to leave, I rush downstairs to my rifle through my bag, ignoring my mother’s confusion. When I don’t find the flash drive, I dump the contents out on the tile. My pulse kicks into my throat as I turn over all of my things.
It’s not there.
My eyes fly to the door. It must have fallen out. Oh my god. There’s so much sensitive information on there and I didn’t even have time to encrypt it!
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“What’s the matter with you?” my mother demands.
“I think I left something important at my friend’s house.” The wordfriendfeels misshapen coming out of my mouth, but hopefully she doesn’t notice.
How am I supposed to know what gas station we visited last night when I was too busy vomiting onto the pavement to notice where we were? Does Mattias even remember where we stopped? I shoot him a text.
Freddie
Hey, do you remember what gas station we stopped at last night?
His reply is almost immediate.
Mattias
The QuickZone off highway 110 past downtown. Is everything alright?
Freddie
I think a flash drive fell out of my purse. It’s got some important stuff related to the documentary on there. I’m freaking out.
Mattias
I’ll look for it.
I’m not going to let him beat me to it. My mother gives me a look of disapproval as I run right back out the door.
Chapter 44
