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“Do you really want to go down in the history books as the person who let the powerful boot of capitalism crush the romantic town of Staindrop?” Allison penetrated my thoughts.
I looked around the room, scratching my neck. “Don’t flatter this shithole. No one is going to write a book about it.”
“Ambie, I’m serious.”
“Me too. Not even a leaflet. I doubt we’re even on the map.”
“If it’s money that you nee—”
“Respectfully, Al? Fuck off.” I was no charity case. If there was one thing I hated, it was people waving money in my face like I was a problem in need of fixing.
“You can’t sell the land. It’s historic. It’s special. It’s…it’s…haunted!” She threw her arms out desperately. “That’s a well-known fact.”
I advanced toward the door. “Look, I appreciate the last-ditch effort to try to save your career, this town, or whatever it is you’re fighting for, but it ain’t happening. It’s a good deal, and I’m taking it. I just built a house for Dylan and my mother and bought my own apartment in London. The cash flow will help, and I actually think the plan’s good.” I did. Not that it mattered to anyone. People couldn’t see past their anger once you moved their cheese.
“You bought an apartment there?” Her throat bobbed, and she had that look in her eyes of a kitten that had been kicked to the curb.
I strangled the doorframe on a sigh. “Told you I’m leaving for good.”
“I thought…” She rubbed at her temple, frowning. “I thought you meant in a few more years. Not…like, now.”
“Seven weeks.” And not a moment too soon.
“So you’re basically killing this town, then bailing on it?” Her expression hardened, and she was pretty, but she wasn’t Cal-pretty. Her skin glowed but wasn’t punctuated by freckles. Her eyes were blue, but they didn’t sparkle. And when she smiled, the world didn’t stop spinning.
“Sadly, I’m bailing before.” I bowed my head sarcastically. “The constructor said they aren’t going to break ground until next year. Blueprints are ready, though.”
“And what is it that I’m hearing, that Calla Litvin is working for you now?” Allison changed the subject sharply, her eyes roaming my face wildly. “She’s the poster child for useless. Are you doing your sister a favor? I thought Dylan finally ditched her all those years ago.”
“Are we done here?” I folded my arms over my chest.
Allison shook her head. “She’s a weirdo.”
“Yeah?” My hand grabbed the doorknob. “Well, normal people are boring, and ordinary and average are fucking synonyms. Who wants to be that?”
“Wait, Ambie, come back here! We’re not done talking.”
She started chasing after me. My answer came in the form of the door being slammed in her face.
ROW
oBITCHuary: Can you send me a picture of your ear?
oBITCHuary: Any ear would be fine (but left is best).
McMonster: Have you been day drinking?
McMonster: WHY?
oBITCHuary: I find ears attractive. Like, when I look at a man (in pictures, I’m mostly too horrified to check them out IRL) I always look at the ears. I’m trying to see if we could be a good match.
McMonster: I thought you only wanted to be friends.
oBITCHuary: Ugh. You are a master negotiator. Trade-off?
McMonster: I don’t mean to sound rude, but I really couldn’t give two craps about your ears, Bitchy.
oBITCHuary: Well, Mac, I was thinking more…like…a picture of my lips?
