Page 89 of Death is Familiar

Tension lined Jack’s face. “What, and it’s this bad?” Another pause. “I thought the vomiting was a one-time thing. I’m so sorry, Delilah.”

“I’m fine.”

“We’ll get you in to see someone to get this sorted. This is unacceptable.”

“It’ll pass. I’ll be fine.”

“Still.” Jack shifted in his seat. I could tell he was uncomfortable with the idea of me being uncomfortable because of our arrangement. “I might have something to make you feel better.” Another moment passed, before Jack continued, “Should we tell her?”

Todd shrugged.

My ears perked up. “Tell her what?”

“The cash that was left to you by your brother.” Which was most definitely in evidence, yes, I knew of it. “It’s in the trunk.”

“What!” I bolted upright. “What do you mean?”

“All of the cash, it’s yours.” Jack wasn’t making sense, so I turned to Todd who said, “We had it catalogued, then listed as returned to rightful owner.”

“But it⁠—"

“Would you rather we didn’t?”

“No, I just…” What was it? “I don’t know. What am I supposed to do with it?”

“It’s money, Delilah,” Jack laughed. “You buy things with it. Invest it, if you’re keen. The choice is yours.”

“But it’s… it’s not mine.”

“It was gifted to you by your brother. It’s yours.”

Dumbfounded, I sat in the back seat processing just what the hell this meant. For me. For my situation.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“If you’re not sure what to do with it, I can always watch over it for safe keeping,” Jack teased. “Of course, I’ll charge a hefty protection fee.”

I was still too flabbergasted—yes, flabbergasted—to appreciate Jack’s joke. But Todd must have thought it was funny, because after he assessed my upright position, a tug pulled at the corner of his mouth as he turned to Jack, “Too bad you didn’t make it a bet. You could’ve made five bucks.”

“Betting on my pain and suffering.” We were in familiar territory. I knew how to respond to this. “Real mature.”

“He would have been betting on you feeling better,” Todd corrected with a smug grin. “I would have been betting on your pain.”

I slapped Todd’s shoulder. He flicked my knee.

Jack ignored our antics as he pulled us off the freeway, taking the exit for Alexandria. “I’m just glad we won’t have to make another puke bag disposal stop before we get you home.”

“Eww,” my stomach clenched, “don’t say ‘puke bag’, unless you want me to puke.”

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Todd held out a stick of gum, which I yanked from his fingers without thanks. It only made his smile wider.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“Do you need to get that?” Jack eyed Todd, who looked none too happy at the prospect of answering his phone. “It seems urgent.”

“It’s you-know-who.”