Even if I want to say goodbye to Amanda, his sister, I know Tusk will now be with her, protecting her, wherever they are.
“Bye, baby,” I say, thinking of Tusk. Minutes later, I pull on the wheel and leave the main gates.
Several hours later,as I drive towards LA, my phone chimes. The sun has come up, and it’s oddly a calm day. Calm after the storm.
I pull over in case the message is from my family. It is not. It’s just my bank.
I have already started to worry about my lack of money, and I was hoping things would get messy in a week. Not now! Not already!
A second bank message comes in, and it confirms $120,000 was just deposited into my account.
I then remember our deal, and I shake my head, pissed. I then feel pissed, relieved, but also confused.
The idea of the money makes me sick, but I figure, if it goes to Mom, and I do not personally profit from the transaction, it is workable.
Ish.
I also feel that in Hawaii, we were falling, and we were becoming emotionally engaged in whateverit was.
Itlater died a horrible death.
Putting the phone down, I remember my engagement ring. I pull it off, remembering it is worth a small fortune. I place it in the center console. I don’t want anything to do with it.
Next, I check William’s classypicnic basket.
It has smelled nice for a while, even if I’ve avoided it, and I’ve felt sick. I pull out a cheese croissant and eat it with the warm cinnamon coffee.
My annoying phone chimes again, and another message comes in. This notes another $100,000 has arrived. There must be a mistake, but there is one thing.
It is not the same amount, so surely, it can’t be a double-up. Another message comes in, and it is from the bastard, himself.
Relocation funds, and my apologies.
“Fuck you,” I grunt.
I then huff, type fast, and send.
Don’t need your stupid money.
As I huff and start wondering what the hell is going on, my cell chimes again. “Oh, God,” I mumble, pissed.
Use for your project or something.
Again, I type fast.
You don’t get to command me any longer.
I breathe in and seethe when it chimes again. “Oh, my God,” I yell.
Trying to help.
Typing fast, I hit send.
Tryfucking off.
I throw my sedan in gear and race off, confused. Also pissed, desperate, and alone.
After two exhaustingdays on the road, peppered with calls and messages from my friend Cassidy, I drive into Los Angeles.
