I nod.
He watches me for a moment, and eventually he asks, “You okay?”
I nod once, unable to push the lie past my lips.
“We will prove that you’re innocent, Jay.” He puts his reassuring hand on my shoulder. “I promise you.”
I drain my glass and go to the bar for a refill.
He watches me once more, and I know he’s choosing his words wisely. “Tell me that you’re all right.”
I roll my lips, and my eyes rise to his. “I’m all right.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to lose your shit and kill someone?”
“If you want to save a life today, get rid of Jake Peters.”
“It’s already done. I called and fired him this morning at five a.m., as soon as I saw the story.”
I take a sip of the amber fluid; it heats my throat as it goes down.
He pauses before he asks, “Do you want me to fire Emily?”
I stare out the window and over the city. “No.”
“I was thinking . . . ,” he continues.
“Get out,” I bark.
“But—”
“Now.”
The door clicks quietly behind him, and I stand and move to the window and stare out over the city.
Adrenaline surges through my body, and I feel the earth’s tectonic plates move beneath me. I sip my scotch as a cold, detached determination takes its place in my soul.
Nobody fucks with me like this and gets away with it.
Get ready to meet your maker, Mr. Ferrara.
Your day is near.
Emily
I bounce out to the waiting limo and see trusty Alan standing beside it. He opens the door. “Good morning, Alan.”
He nods. “Morning.”
I frown and get in. He’s not in a very good mood today. The door closes behind me, and I look around for the paper.
Hmm . . . Jameson must have taken it with him this morning. I’m still sleepy and lethargic. There’s a lot to be said for morning exercise—it definitely wakes you up for the day. I put my head back and close my eyes as we roll through the traffic.
What feels like ten minutes later, the car comes to a halt and switches off. I glance up. We are out in front of my apartment building. Huh?
Alan opens the door.
“What are you doing?” I ask.