“Is...everyone okay?” I hesitate, not wanting to seem only interested in Onyx, but of course, Sawyer sees through that too.
“Onyx is fine, Amelie. All of us are. Even Marshmallow.”
“I miss him, give him a kiss from me.”
“You better mean the damn dog, I’m not snogging any of my brothers for you!” We laugh and it feels good.
“I have to go.”
“No worries. Miss you.”
“You too.”
With a smile on my face, I cut the call and head out of my room and down the corridor to go back downstairs, but stop short when I spy a familiar figure coming towards me. Familiar and unwelcome.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss at Sarah, Smalls’ ex. Or Skanky Sarah as I like to call her.
“Do you mind? Show some respect, we just buried one of our own today.”
“Yeah, from what I heard he had a girl and a son at home. That’s a new level of low, isn’t it? Aspiring to be a homewrecker.”
Sarah’s eyes flash with anger but I don’t give a fuck. I want to provoke her. I disliked her from the moment I laid eyes on her and now I’m allowed to. I hope she starts something; I have new skills I can showcase.
“It’s none of your damn business what was going on between Brenton and me!”
“No, but when you started screwing around behind Smalls’ back,thatbecame my damn business. I’d like to say I’m going to get payback because you hurt him, but in all honesty, he didn’t give that much of a fuck about you. So now this is just going to be for fun.” Channelling my inner Branson, I give slutface Sarah my best psychopath smile, revelling in the nervous way she swallows.
This is going to be fun.
Amelie
Am I a bad person for starting a fight at a funeral?
Message undelivered
I mean, the bitch totally had it coming. And I only made her bleed a little before I was pulled off her.
Message undelivered
I gave her a psychopath smile. You know, The Baxter Branson Special? It got me rethinking the offer I declined earlier…burning the world to the ground with you could be fun.
Message undelivered
Chapter Six
Baxter
“Mr Branson, sir?” A formal but scared sort of voice interrupts my internet stalking. I’m reading through the intel Frost sent me on this Raven/Charlotte chick. It’s fascinatingly vague, which in itself piques my interest.
“What?” I snap, hating the distraction.
“You have a phone call, sir. Sorry, sir.” The terrified receptionist? Maid? – Fuck, I don’t know who she is, but I do remember sleeping with her a time or two – holds the phone out to me in trembling hands. I sneer at her and snatch the mobile up. Fucking pathetic.
“You didn’t really think you could hide from me?” A voice interrupts before I can say anything.
I stay silent.
“You can’t almost die on me and not tell me.”
