Sitting up against my white leather headboard, covered only by a sheet, I watch him leave.
I need a few quiet minutes to take it all in. To process.
I can’t wait to hear what March is going to have to say about all this. About Ronan’s proposition.
He’ll probably shit himself. Hell, I almost did when those elevator doors slid open.
I clutch the envelope, ready to tear it open when I stop myself. Work later. Coffee, kickboxing, and personal life now.
I hop out of bed, throw a T-shirt on, and make my way to the kitchen.
All evidence of last night is gone. The entire dinner. There’s nothing left but a glean on the glass table. It’s fucking eerie just how stealthy Ronan can be. How he comes and goes virtually unnoticed.
It makes me wary of him all the more, and strangely intrigued.
He is a fire I shouldn’t fan, but I’m much too tempted not to touch the flame.
Dangerous.
I pop a pod into the coffeemaker and inhale the sweet, heavenly scent of caramel cream as it fills the air.
Caffeine is currently life.
After the cup is filled, I move to the couch where my laptop is sitting on the coffee table.
Flipping it on, I blow on the steam and open my email.
Only one person uses this email address.
I click on the subject line: PITA
Dear Dangerously,
Did you know over one million seabirds and 100,000 sea mammals are killed by pollution every year? People who live in places with high levels of air pollutants have a 20% higher risk of death from lung cancer than people who live in less-polluted areas? And each year, 1.2 trillion gallons of untreated sewage, stormwater, and industrial waste are dumped into US water? I have committed to only using reusable straws and bringing my own coffee cup to Starbucks. I have also applied to an internship in Washington, DC, for next summer at a prestigious environmental lobbying agency. Daddy has a connection. Also, Mom is being a total PITA. She has vetoed every single winter formal dress I have tried on. She said no mid-drifts. What is wrong with two inches of skin showing if it’s tasteful!? She can be so suffocating sometimes! Anyway. I hope you’re doing well. I miss you. Write soon and tell me all about your misadventures in Africa.
Xo
OceanGirlSavesTheWorld
I try notto grin ear to ear as I read the email. I always cycle through so many emotions when I receive correspondences like these. I walked away from my family years ago with the expectation of never looking back. But March stuck his damn nose where it didn’t belong, like March so often does, and he opened a dialogue with my younger sister. I could have killed him. I almost did. But he argued while I had a knife to his throat that if I was going to survive in this line of work, I needed a bridge to my humanity, and Farrah was it. She knows virtually nothing about me. Only what I allow her to believe. Which is that I live in a remote part of Africa teaching young, third-world children how to read and write. The last time I saw her, she was three years old and still in diapers. She’s nearly sixteen now and believes she can change the world. I hope it’s true. I hope she is everything I never got to be.
I know one thing; she had a vastly different upbringing than I did. And even though I did everything in my power to make sure of that, for a long time I was resentful. But in the end, my protectiveness outweighed my bitterness. Go figure, a hired gun who actually gives a shit about anyone but themselves. I guess stranger things have happened, but don’t ask me what.
My ultimate plan was to look after her from afar, like a ghost, but fate—and March—had different ideas.
I type out a quick response. All my responses are short and sweet. Neither noncommittal nor too in depth. Just sisterly banter over spotty communications. That’s the safest, and only, option.
Dear OceanGirlSavesTheWorld,
If I were a more responsible and mature sister, I would tell you to listen to Mom. But I’m not. So, I say wear whatever the hell you want, and shove her face in it by making it look fucking good. Push boundaries. Live your life. But always be smart.
Dangerously
It’sthe best advice her defective sister can give her. I hope it’s enough.
I hit send.
After taking a hot shower,I change for the gym. March and I have a sparring date. But before all that, work calls.I’m itching to know who Ronan’s next victim is.A former associate turned fucking rat.That could be half of Boston.
