by Adrian Stark
“Then, this could ruin the business our family has run for over a hundred years and maybe bankrupt us all.”
I opened my mouth and then shut it again. There wasn’t much to say to that. I couldn’t even say it was wrong. There was no way of knowing how this was going to end. Clients would definitely be affected; how many people were going to trust a company that succeeds off of the suffering of factory workers? My hand fell away from the car door handle, and I leaned back in my seat.
“That’s comforting,” I managed after a long silence. I checked my phone.
Ten minutes.
We looked at each other, at the panic evident in the eyes of each other, and I started to laugh, struck with the absurdity of the situation. “I feel like we’re sitting outside the dean’s office waiting to be given detention,” I admitted through almost manic chuckles. Chrissie continued to stare at me for a moment longer before she too dissolved into giggles.
It felt good to laugh. The past few weeks had been filled with nothing but worry and stress, all our attention focused on getting the conference together. Now that the time had finally arrived, laughter was the perfect thing to break the tension.
“There are more arriving,” Chrissie said, pointing out of the window to what was now an entourage of cars, crowded outside the offices. “You reckon, dad knows?”
“I reckon he’s on his way,” I responded dryly. I looked at my phone again. Five minutes. It was time.
I reached for the door again.
“And Josie? Have you spoken to her?” There was a careful curiosity in her voice now, and I sighed.
“I thought about calling her,” I admitted quietly, “but I don’t know what to say.” I knew what I wanted to say: please, I know I was wrong, and I know I was stupid, but you helped me realize I am so much more than he wanted me to be. I know I can be better than him. Give me another chance. “I love her so much, but I don’t know if that’s enough.”
“For what it’s worth, I think she’d be proud of you.”
“I hope so.” I smiled sadly. “Thank you for doing this with me,” I said seriously, “I know I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own.” Chrissie took my hand and squeezed it gently.
“That’s what sisters are for,” she grinned, “ready?”
I nodded.
“No.”
Chrissie opened her door and climbed out, disappearing quickly into the frenzy of cameras and microphones.
I looked down at my phone, and before I could register what I was doing, I was halfway down my contact list, coming to a stopover her name. Would she even pick up? I wouldn’t. My finger hovered over the call button.
A camera flashed in the car window, and I sighed, pocketing my phone and climbing out of the car.
Chapter Ten: Chapter 10 Title
“Oh, god, my eyes!” I stopped in the doorway to Charlie’s room, just as she was cracking open the second can. She was covered head to toe in bright red paint, and I had to stop myself from looking around for a body. “Christ, you look like Carrie.”
Charlie looked down at herself and grinned, trailing red handprints down the one section of her t-shirt that had miraculously remained untouched.
“What’s wrong with red?” she asked incredulously. “I like red.”
“It’s not even nine in the morning, and it’s like I’m looking into a volcano,” I teased, walking further into the room, eyeing the crimson walls with mock horror. The sunlight seeping in from the curtainless window gave the room an unnatural looking glow.
“I’m so glad my room’s on the other side of the house.”
Charlie huffed, putting the brush down and leaning on the wall beside me.
“Well, what color is your room?”
We’d repainted most of the upstairs bedrooms. Charlie was determined to spread as much color as she could. I’d managed to persuade her to let me do my old room.
“Cream and teal.”
“Boring!”
Laughter bubbled easily between us, and I relished in how relaxed I felt. It was nice to feel at home again. Even if Charlie did have terrible taste in interior design, I knew I'd be forever grateful for her help in the past few weeks.
“Come on. I made tea.”
“How’s it going with Casper?” Charlie asked as we made our way downstairs. Below us, the kitchen TV was playing something soft and vaguely familiar. The kettle whistled on the stove as we passed through the kitchen archway, and Charlie took a seat as I poured tea into two mugs, heaping spoonfuls of sugar into each one.
“Pretty good. He said we could probably move down to once every two weeks from now on. Last week we talked about...” Andrew’s voice automatically played through my head: I love you, you know. “...about my relationships, you know?” I took a sip of tea and leaned against the countertop.
“That’s great, Jo. I’m proud of you.”
It was a battle to open up completely—years of bad habits were hard to undo. But I was trying. And I suppose that’s the important thing.
“What about you?” I asked, wanting to shift the conversation away from me. It was sweet that she cared enough to ask, but the attention was starting to make me squirm. “What happened in that last interview you had?”
Charlie seemed happy enough to take the hint, immediately launching into the story of how she’d turned up late to an interview at a local radio station and that it had gone so horribly, she’d had to stop for two pints of ice cream on the way home. I paid attention, for the most part, becoming more and more sure with every word that I’d already asked this question and knew the story but was content to hear it again.
I’d left my phone beside the stove and, not for the first time, I thought about calling Andrew. Charlie had told me, way back when we’d first gotten back, to delete his number, but I could never bring myself to do it. Silence descended, and I snapped my attention back to Charlie, who was gazing at me with a sort of gentle pity in her eyes.
“Why don’t you call him?”
I put the phone down, slurping at my tea.
“Call who?”
Her smile turned playful, and she gave an exasperated sigh, moving to sit on the counter so she could look me in the eyes.
“Come on, Josie, we both know I’m your only friend. Who else could it be?”
“What would I say, Charlie? I don’t even know how I feel.” I missed him. Missed the way he’d scrunch up his nose when he laughed, or the way he’d look at pieces of art or the view from a hotel window—like he’d never seen anything so beautiful. “What he did, it’s-it’s not easy for me to get over. If he was here, maybe it’d be easier. I’d see him, and I’d know exactly what to say, but he’s not, and I have to deal with that.” We sat in silence for a moment, Charlie’s hand in mine. I let my eyes drift closed, content to just stand as the TV continued in the background
“Good morning, everyone. Thank you for coming to hear us today.”
My eyes snapped open. I frowned at Charlie, who looked back at me in confusion.
“Was that?” she started. “That sounded like Christine.”
“My sister and I would like to present some findings on the subject of the recent ProviderLives’ case against Wright Enterprises.”
My heart skipped a beat. Blood roared in my ears as Andrew’s face flashed up onto the television screen, Chrissie standing at his side.
“We wish to bring to light the nefarious acts taken by CEO of Wright Enterprises Trent Wright, who at the time of this incident, decided not to help those under his care. Instead, he decided to exploit those people for his own financial gain.”
Charlie’s grip on my hand tightened, and I realized I was crying. What have I done?
Chapter Eleven: Chapter 11 Title
Chapter Twelve: Chapter 12 Title
Chapter Thirteen: Chapter 13 Title
Chapter Fourteen: Chapter 14 Title
Epilogue
Image Credit: Shutterstock.com (REMOVE IF BOOK HAS NO IMAGES)
&nbs
p;