Annihilate Me (Vol. 4) (The Annihilate Me Series) (10 page)

*
 
*
 
*

Later
that night, after I had showered and changed into a pair of shorts and a
T-shirt, I grabbed my cell, said goodnight to Lisa, and went to my
bedroom.
 
On my bed was a note:
 
“Freshly changed this afternoon.
 
Sleep well.
 
I
’
ll
have breakfast ready in the morning.”

She’s
the best.
 
I crawled into bed and called Alex, who
answered on the first ring.

“All
caught up?” he asked.

“With
Lisa and me, you
’
re never
caught up.
 
We could have talked for
hours, but that
’
s
nothing unusual.
 
How are you?
 
I miss you.
 
Are you in bed?”

“In
bed.
 
Alone.
 
Thinking of you.”

“Are
you concerned about tomorrow?”

“It
’
s not tomorrow afternoon that I
’
m concerned about.
 
That
’
s just a press conference to let the
shareholders know that I
’
m back
and fully in charge of Wenn.”

“And
to let somebody else know that you
’
re back
in town.
 
Or that
we
’
re
back in town.”

“That
’
s part of the plan.
 
I talked with Tank earlier.
 
Everything is in place for the
party.
 
Peachy has been wonderful,
which proves I was wrong about her.
 
Surveillance cameras have been put into place.
 
There isn
’
t a square inch of her living space that won
’
t be documented.
 
I
’
ve
since seen the guest list, and Adrianna Bomba has confirmed that she
’
ll be there.”

“So,
we begin with a Bomba.
 
How
fitting.”

“That
’
s right.
 
Then we see what happens.
 
If nothing does, we move on with the
rest.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The
next morning, I woke to the smell of fresh coffee and sunlight slanting through
my bedroom blinds.
 
I felt rested
enough to face what was going to be a challenging day.
 

I
slipped out of bed and went into the kitchen, where Lisa was sitting at the bar
reading the
Times
.
 
She was
already showered, her hair was pulled away from her face in a ponytail, and she
was wearing black running pants and a white sweatshirt.
 

She
turned to look at me with a smile.
 
“Ready for breakfast?”

“I
’
m starving.”

“Coffee
first?”

“Please.”

She
poured me a cup, made it exactly as I liked it, and handed it to me.
 
“How did you sleep?”

“Surprisingly
well.”

“That
’
s because you were exhausted.
 
Let me make breakfast.
 
Sip your coffee, read the paper, and
allow yourself to wake up.”

Breakfast
was delicious—a toasted bagel with cream cheese and scrambled eggs with
fresh bits of chive chopped on top.
 
When we were finished, I gave her a happy thumbs up.
 
“That was fantastic.”

“Thank
you.”

“How
long have you been up?”

“I
never went to bed.”

“Why?”

“Too
much on my mind.
 
I dozed on the
couch.
 
I finally gave up and took a
shower about an hour ago.
 
I think I
stood under it for a good fifteen minutes.”

“
Feel better?
”

“
I just need
ed to work through some personal shit.
 
I
’
m
going to give myself a couple of days to take care of you, watch some bad
movies, maybe read a book, clean the apartment, and do a lot of thinking in
between.
 
Thanks for listening to me
about Tank last night.
 
I think it
set me on the right course.”

I
didn
’
t ask what that course
was, because I knew that she’d tell me when she was ready.
 
I just prayed that she moved forward
with Tank because I was certain that he was the one for her.
 
“How
’
s the book doing?”

“Three
weeks in the Top 100.
 
It
’
s just resting below the list now.
 
The new one is half finished.”

“Half
finished?
 
That
’s quick.
”

“Let
’
s just say that I had a lot of
downtime.
 
I threw myself into it.”

“Are
you liking it?”

“I
’
m actually kind of loving it.
 
Who knew the zombie apocalypse could be
filled with such heart?”

“Has
Tank read any of it?”

She
shook her head.
 
“You know I only
show my work to you first.
 
He has
read my other two books though.”

“What
did he think?”

“He
said that he loved them.
 
And it was
clear that he did on some level because he asked me plenty of questions about
them.
 
And not stupid, shallow
questions.
 
He was into them.
 
It was kind of sweet.”

I
just looked at her.

“I
know,” she said.
 
“Because
he’s
sweet.
 
Believe me, I
’
ve been running this through my head all
night.”

“There
’
s no rush, right?
 
Kick back for a few days.
 
Now that we
’
ve talked, take some time to think things
through.”

“That’s
the plan.”

“Good.”
 
I hopped up from my seat, took my plate
to the kitchen and put it in the sink.
 
“Do we have a thermos around here?”

“I
have one.
 
Why?”

“One
of Tank
’
s men has been standing
guard in the lobby since last evening.
 
His name is Scott.
 
I
’
d like to bring him some coffee and a few
bagels if we have any left—I
’m sure he’
s
hungry.
 
Then I need to jump in the
shower and get ready for the day.”

“Let
me make a fresh pot.
 
We have plenty
of bagels.
 
I
’
ll slather one with cream cheese and leave
the other one plain.
 
You never know
how he likes his.”

When
she was finished, I had washed my face, brushed my hair, and changed into jeans
and a sweater.
 
I hurried down a
basket to Scott that included cream, sugar, a mug, a napkin, knife, and spoon.

When
I left the elevator, I saw him standing beside the front doors.
 
“You must be exhausted, Scott.”

He
turned to me, and started to walk quickly in my direction.
 
“Wide awake, Ms. Kent.
 
But please stop there.
 
The media is outside.
 
They
’
ll take advantage of this.”

I
stopped in the center of the lobby, and watched the doorman take Scott
’
s place in an effort to keep any unwanted
people out.

And
so it begins.

“Please,
it
’
s Jennifer,” I said.
 
“And I
’
m grateful for what you
’
ve done.
 
I thought you might need another
injection of caffeine, so I brought a thermos full of fresh coffee, and also
some bagels.
 
One has cream cheese
on it, the other doesn
’
t—I
wasn
’
t sure how you liked
yours.
 
There
’
s also cream and sugar in there.”

He
looked surprised.
 
“
I don’
t know what to say.
 
Thank you.”

I
glanced past him at the crowds of reporters beyond the front doors.
 
Just seeing them made me uncomfortable.

“It
’
s my pleasure.
 
Can I get you something else?
 
We have fruit upstairs.
 
Whatever you want.”

There
was a table next to him on which I put the basket and poured him a cup of
coffee.
 
“
Cream?
 
Sugar?
”

“Black.”

I
handed it to him.
 

“Thanks
again,” he said.
 
“Now I see why
Tank is so fond of you.”

“He
’
s a good
man.
 
I
’
ll be down in a couple of hours.
 
As you can see, I clearly need a shower
before we leave for Wenn.
 
And new
clothes.
 
And probably something on
my feet.
 
Then we
’
ll face the reporters and start the day.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Look
at you,” Blackwell said when I entered her office on Wenn
’
s fifty-first floor.
 
“A hot mess if there ever was one.”

I
couldn
’
t help a laugh.
 
She was seated behind her desk and was
reading a report of some sort, which she tossed aside so she could fully size
me up.
 

“And
good morning to you, too,” I said.

“Now
that I can see you in the daylight, I can tell it
’
s much worse than I imagined.
 
You look leathery.
 
Too much sun.”

“
I don’
t look leathery.”

“
Your d
é
collet
ée will be a train wreck by the time you’re thirty if you keep
this up.”

“Do
you think I wanted to be on that island?
 
And besides.
 
This is the
first time in my life that I
’
ve had
some color.”

“
Some
color?
 
You look like Foxy Brown.”

“
I don’
t know who that is.”

“That
’
s because you
’
re too young.
 
Out of respect for Ms. Brown, I will say
that she is a national treasure.
 
When I was growing up, I longed to be Pam Grier, who played her in the
movies.
 
That woman had a pair of
balls.
 
I learned from her.
 
Many women did.
 
But at least she knew how to work her afro.
 
As for you, not so much.”

“
I don’
t have an afro.”

“Oh,
my dear, the things you don
’
t
see.
 
Still, at least you
’
ll be presentable when Bernie is finished
with you.
 
That, I know in my
heart.
 
He may have to call the
Vatican or go all Wiccan on your ass to make it happen, but he
’
ll do what needs to be done.”
 
Her eyes widened as if a thought had
occurred to her and she pointed a finger at me.
 
“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”