Exclusive release day excerpt from Get in the Car,
Jupiter!
Ezra Brandon’s soul was older than his body. He wasn’t always
like that, though. In fact, at one point not long before what Frankie and I
badged as “the change,” he’d been fully entrenched in activities that would
indicate his soul was exactly the age of that body, but circumstances
being out of his control, the soul tired of parties, friends, and happiness. He
adopted the cynicism of a forty-five-year-old man, threw it on like an old coat,
and buttoned it up to his chin. It insulated him from the outside world so well
that within a year of the adoption, he was forgotten by everyone at Endicott
Academy.
But not by me. No, not by me. He was just as beautiful
to me then as he’d always been.
“You’re drooling again,” Frankie said, startling me. My eyes
popped open. I brought a hand to my lips to wipe away any evidence of her
accusation but felt nothing. Frankie snorted then laughed. I threw a disparaging
glance her way.
“Why you gotta be so rude?” I sang at her.
“’Cause. You’re an idiot. You’ve got zombie face again, and
it’s so obvious people are gonna start wondering if they should intercede on
your behalf. Report your Forrest Gump ass to social services or whatever.”
I laughed. “I can’t help it, Frankenstein. He’s so on the
brink.”
“On the brink of what, Jupiter?” She turned Ezra’s direction
and drank him in. She leaned in close and whispered, “The only thing he’s on the
brink of is a sudden exclamation of ‘What’s it all mean!’ before jumping
headfirst through that window.”
We both looked out the second story toward the looming earth
below and gulped.
I shook my head. “He is not,” I argued.
Frankie pointed toward the front of the classroom where Ezra
was sitting, his hands buried in his chin-length brown hair, knuckles white with
intensity. Maybe she was right. Maybe just a little. I stared at him again.
Ezra was tall, taller than most guys I knew. Six foot two
inches, one hundred seventy pounds is what his old published lacrosse stats
stated. He had killer light brown hair, eyes so light green you felt like you
could see right through him, and a smile so catching, I could still remember it
despite the fact I, nor anyone else for that matter, hadn’t seen it for almost
two years.
“Life is like a box of chocolates, Jupiter.”
I threw another annoyed look her direction. “Can you please
let me ogle in peace, Lieutenant Dan?”
“No, jackass. The bell rang. Get your rear in gear or you’ll
be late again.”
“Gah!”
My next class was clear across campus. I scrambled to get my
stuff together, decided it was as intact as it was going to get, and hauled ass
up the aisle, but when I turned to complain to Frankie for the thousandth time
since the beginning of our senior year that it wasn’t fair to assign kids
back-to-back classes that far away, I was abruptly halted by the very body I’d
been ogling not thirty seconds before. We collided in spectacular fashion—papers
flying, books crashing. My elbow met his gut, which made him grunt and double
over, which then made his forehead punch my left boob, which made me die a
million mortifying deaths within a second.
“I’m so sorry,” I told Ezra as I felt my face warm to
impossible temperatures. I took a second to glance toward Frankie for some sort
of best friend intervention but only caught a glimpse of her signature
Jupiter’s-a-dweeb facepalm instead.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly, his voice like silk, the
inflection of which swam through my head, tingling down each strand of hair all
the way to the ends, and making me shiver.
I watched like an idiot as he bent to gather all my stuff for
me. He stood, handing me the lot, offering a crooked smile when I stared at him
like he was a betta in a bowl.
“Thanks,” I wheezed, taking all that had fallen.
He shrugged, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder, tucking
his own fallen papers and books between his hip and the palm of his hand. “See
ya,” he offered before heading out the door.
Before long, Frankie shouldered me. “Whoa,” she said.
“Whoa,” I agreed.
I hope you enjoyed this exclusive excerpt from Get in the Car,
Jupiter! Happy reading!
I'm so excited to help author Fisher Amelie reveal the cover of her next release.
Here's the cover of
Penny in London
Release date August 1, 2016
Blurb:
You know how
everyone says when one door closes another one opens? At the time, you
find this statement obnoxious as all get out because a) you don’t really
know what the future holds, it certainly hasn’t been a cakewalk so far, and b)
the thought of change is unbearable. You feel like your life is falling apart
and everyone around is feeding you clichés like they’re made out of kale or
quinoa or whatever the trend health food is right now. You don’t want kale
clichés, you want double-chocolate fudge realisms, and you want them now. You
just want things the way they were, but then something happens, a moment, an
instant that sets you out on a path toward happiness you never knew could exist,
and suddenly you think, huh, I don’t think I want double-chocolate fudge
anymore. I think I’m in the mood for this heaping serving of strawberry
cheesecake sitting in front of me…with a side of kale. And a pair of split
pants, but we won’t get into that right now.
Graham
Glenn may have tossed her in, but Oliver Finn made her feel again.
The much anticipated release of Fisher Amelie's third standalone installment of The Seven Deadly Series, FURY, finally has a release date! Stay tuned below for the reveals of her new covers for VAIN and GREED, a chapter from FURY, as well as the heart-stopping trailer for FURY, due out May 4th, 2015.
Prepare Yourselves.
About FURY:
Revenge
is an euphoric thing. Trust me on this. Nothing compares to the release you get
when you ruin someone’s life. When they’ve stolen important things. Things that
didn’t belong to them. Things I revel in making them pay for.
What?
Have I offended you? I’m not here to appeal to your delicate senses. I have no
intention of placating your wishes or living within your personal belief system
nor do I care if you hate me. And you will hate me. Because I’m a brutal,
savage, cold-blooded murderer and I’m here for my revenge.
I’m
Ethan Moonsong...And this is the story about how I went from the world’s most
sacrificing man to the most feared and why I wouldn’t trade it for anything in
the world.
And now for an excerpt from FURY, due out May 4th, 2015...
I
heard a snap and the light cracked on, piercing through my closed lids. My head
pounded and I groaned then rolled over, pulling my cover over my head to drown
out the source of my pain.
“Get
up,” a deep voice commanded. “Get up,” he continued, kicking my shoe.
“Dad,”
I rasped. “I’m hungover and feel like shit.”
He
was silent for a moment so I pulled the cover down just enough to see his face.
He was not amused.
“Ethan,
watch your language, get your butt up, and find a job.” I didn’t answer him. I
had nothing to say that would please him. “And while you’re at it, stop this
ridiculous drinkin’, son.”
I
sat up, ran my hands through my long black hair and wrapped the length around my
fist. I sat back against the wall, reveling in how cool it was, and tried not to
vomit.
“Did
you see them today?” I asked him, unable to help myself.
My
dad removed his hat and leaned against the jamb, scrubbing his face with his
free hand. “You like to torture yourself,” he said, shaking his head then
sighing. “You remind me so much of your mama.”
The
mere mention of my mother sent me spiraling down once more in depression. We’d
lost her a few years before and I was still in agony. That, coupled with the
fact that Spencer Blackwell stole my girl right out from underneath my nose, was
enough for me to drink to excess every night. I hate him.
“Are
they,” I swallowed, afraid of his answer, “are they together now?”
My
father sighed again. “Ethan, get dressed.”
“Are
they?” I asked again, letting my hand drop to my side. My hair slid with it and
cascaded down my back.
“You
are a stubborn boy. Yes, okay? Yes, they’re together. All the more reason to
move on, son.”
My
body suddenly weighed a thousand pounds and I felt my head reeling. So it was
true then. They were together and they would probably get married and I was
going to have to sit there in that godforsaken small town and watch it all
happen. I was going to get a front row seat to my own misery.
I
nodded once, rested my hands on my knees for a brief moment, then ran past my
dad, shouldering him as I did so and nearly knocking him over before making it
to the small bathroom across the hall and retching everything in my stomach into
the toilet.
My
dad stood in the bathroom doorway shaking his head in disappointment. When I was
done, I fell back into the wall. That look shamed me to my core. Any time my dad
felt let down, I felt the weight of my disgrace so heavy the only thing I could
think to dull the ache was to drink myself into a stupor. It was a vicious
cycle.
I
let my hair cascade over my face. I heard the old wood floor creak beneath his
feet as he left without another word and jumped when the front door slammed. My
eyes closed as my head pounded.
The
claw foot tub sat to my left so I leaned up and turned on the water, slowly
removing my clothing one piece at time. Each movement felt like a hammer
slamming into my head.
“God,”
I groaned. “I am an idiot.”
I
stood then stepped underneath the warm water and just stood in silence, letting
the water absorb into my hair and seep into my skin. I breathed in the steam
deeply. I was miserable. Not just physically but my heart was the heaviest it’d
felt since my mom passed and I had no one to blame but Spencer Blackwell for
that.
The
asshole who rode into my life under the guise of helping his sister only to yank
what I thought was a stable foundation right out from underneath me. He stole
from me, a bona fide thief, and I wanted to make him pay. No, I needed to make
him pay.
But
how?
I
finished showering and threw a towel around my waist, stepping from the tub and
toppling onto my bed when I reached my room and fell to sleep, not even
bothering to dress myself. I fell quickly, fantasizing about my
revenge.
I
must have slept for hours because when I woke, it was pitch black outside. I
rolled onto my side and checked my alarm clock. Eleven o’clock. Perfect
timing, I thought.
I
sat up and tucked my towel around my waist a little tighter, stood and went
straight for my dresser. I grabbed a pair of boxers and socks and put those on
before heading for my closet and tossing an old, worn pair of jeans on, a
thermal and an old tee. I brushed my teeth, grabbed my wallet and keys, threw on
my boots and headed toward my piece of shit truck.
I
knew exactly where I was going because it was where I planned on going every
night until I forgot about Caroline Hunt.
My
truck started but barely and I tore out of our driveway not bothering with my
seatbelt, kicking up dust and rocks as my tires spun against the loose gravel.
I’d replaced my stereo because I couldn’t stand radio, at least not Kalispell
radio, and plugged my phone into the audio cable. Bastille’s Dreams remake
blasted and I turned it up, letting the painful lyrics wash over me, fueling my
desire to get plastered as quickly as possible.
I
entertained myself with thoughts of strangling Spencer Blackwell with both hands
then beating the crap out of him with my fists. Bastard. I pulled into
the local pub and put my piece into park before tucking my left foot into the
emergency brake.
I
disconnected my phone and the stereo went silent, reminding me of how alone I
really was. I turned the engine off and absolute silence surrounded me. I
couldn’t take it. My door creaked with age as it swung open and I slammed it
shut, unable not to. The fury raging in my blood was more than I could
contain.
Before
heading inside, my hand went to the empty space between the cab and the bed and
searched for the bottle of whiskey I always had wedged in between. I took a
large swig, not wanting to spend too much of my savings on the liquor inside the
crap establishment. After all, I was going to need it. Revenge was a costly
business.
I
took one more swig for good measure and wedged it back in its usual place then
wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve. My hair swung heavy in my eyes. It was
still a little wet from my shower and I thought about tying it back with the
extra leather tie I usually kept in my glove compartment but thought better of
it. It helped me hide and I wanted to hide.
I
looked around me. The lot was full but I only recognized a few cars this time
which was good because I had no intention of making conversation. Regardless,
most of Kalispell had stopped trying because I’d rarely done any responding
since Cricket cut out my fucking heart and ate it raw. The hair was only
insurance.
I
took two deep draws of air, gulping it down, desperate for it to soothe me but,
of course, it didn’t. I let each escape my lips in shaky breaths and clenched my
fists over and over before deciding to head inside.
My
boots crunched the gravel beneath my feet as I headed toward the door. When I
entered, I ducked my head toward the floor and let my hair cover me, not that it
did any good other than to conceal me. I could still feel the heat of their
stares, though, still feel the pity in their gazes. I wanted so badly to yell at
them to fuck off but I kept as much composure as possible. I couldn’t get kicked
out of the only real bar in Kalispell.
I
picked a stool at the end of the bar, the same stool I always did in the corner
and in the back because it was dark. I sat and met Vi’s eyes. She sauntered over
to me, placing her elbows on the bar top, giving me a clear view of her generous
chest. I held back my eye roll.
“Hello,
darlin’,” she drawled. “You look like shit.”
“The
usual, Vi,” I told her as quietly as I could.
“How
‘bout a kiss then first?” she asked, leaning in a bit more.
“Christ,
Vi, how many times? Huh? Just get me the gosh damn drink.”
She
laughed. “Already worked up then, I see. I like it,” she said,
winking.
Vi,
or Violet, was thirty-nine years old, had lived in Kalispell her entire life,
and had worked as a bartender for over fifteen years. I could tell at one time
Vi had been a beautiful woman but I could also tell she had heard many hollow
promises from equally hollow men and that she obviously believed them all.
Otherwise, why would she still be there? I watched her tired eyes and her
slightly too-forced smile. She had the look of someone who used to be chased but
had graduated to the chaser. She looked miserable.
She
left and returned with an empty glass and a bottle of Jack. She set the glass on
the bar and filled it to the brim. She was being generous. She was always this
way. She told me once she hoped I would drink it all away and decide to take her
up on her offer. I told her that would be a cold day in hell, to which she only
laughed.
“Drink
up, buttercup,” she said, smiling lasciviously.
“I
will,” I told the bar top.
I
watched the world around me through the breaks in the hanging strands and six
glasses later, I was starting to finally feel numb. I lifted my head a little
feeling slightly relieved, feeling like I could breathe a little deeper now that
the ache wasn’t so severe. I continued to search the crowd, not knowing who I
was really looking for.
A
quiet but persistent nagging awareness took residence in my chest for some
unknown reason as I watched a girl dance on her own in the middle of the dance
floor. Others around her paid no attention to her but she was the first person
my eyes were drawn to. I studied her.
Her
hair was tucked into a blue scarf, little tendrils peeking through and grazing
across her neck whenever she moved. She was extraordinarily tall and her hips
and rear end were more indulgent than I’d ever considered before. She turned
slightly, giving me her silhouette. Her stomach was flat and her breasts were
full. She was beautiful, I could tell, even if I couldn’t see her fully through
the low lights.
“Jeez,”
I said, swiping a hand down my face. “I’ve had too much.”
But
I still couldn’t stop watching her. She wore worn jean cut offs, a fitted button
up with the sleeves rolled up her forearms and ankle boots. She rolled her
shoulders playfully, enticing someone she knew just off the dance floor. Another
girl joined her side and they did the robot. She threw her head back and
laughed.
This
shocked me almost sober. “That laugh,” I whispered to myself. “That laugh,” I
repeated. I knew it but couldn’t quite place it.
She
took her friend’s hand and twirled her around the floor vivaciously. She was so
full of life. So my exact opposite.
She
lightheartedly skipped in place and raised an arm in salute to her friend before
turning toward me.
That’s
when I got a good, clear look at her. I gasped out loud and placed my hand on
the back of my head, my elbow on the bartop, ducking my head down lower to hide
myself further.
Please,
please, please do not recognize me,
I thought, still watching her from the corner of my eye.
She
stood two seats down from me. “Vi!” she said, laughing a little.
“Vi!”
Vi
turned toward her. “Hey, baby! What’ll it be?”
“Can
I have a water, please?” she asked, sitting down and releasing a breath of
exhaustion. She continued to smile, though, and it ate a little at my
gut.
“Of
course,” Vi answered and started to pour water into a clear plastic cup. Vi’s
eyes pinched a little. “Hey?” she said.
“Yeah?”
she asked.
“How
come I never see you drink anything harder?”
Her
face fell a little but picked right back up. No one would have noticed it but
me. “I’ve never had good luck with alcohol,” she admitted a bit
sadly.
Vi
was quick enough to recognize something there that didn’t want to be said and
let it go with a nod, handing over the water without another word.
“Vi!”
someone else called out and she walked their direction.
She
took a long drink from her water and set it down, turning toward the crowd and
surveying the dancers. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, some
private joke she shared with herself.
I
looked on her for a long time. Long enough for my heart to calm itself. Long
enough to struggle with myself in an internal argument. Finally, I decided that
I wasn’t watching her because I found her attractive, though I knew she was.
Only that I was wondering what she was doing there.
She
turned around in her seat after catching her breath and glanced at me. For a
moment, I believed she didn’t recognize me but I was wrong. A second scan
confirmed it for her. She leaned in and narrowed her
eyes. Shit.
“Ethan?”
she asked. “Is that you?”
“Hello,
Finley,” I answered.
Check out the FURY Trailer!
About Fisher Amelie:
Fisher Amelie resides in the South with her kick ace husband slash soul mate. She earned her first 'mama' patch in 2009. She also lives with her Weim, 'Jonah', and her Beta, 'Whale'. All these living creatures keep the belly of her life full, sometimes to the point of gluttony, but she doesn't mind all that much because life isn't worth living if it isn't entertaining, right?
Fisher is the author of The Seven Deadly Series, The Sleepless Series, and Leaving Series, and was a semi-finalist in Amazon's Breakthrough Novel Award.
Summary: If you’re looking for a story about a good, humble girl, who’s been hurt by someone she thought she could trust, only to find out she’s not as vulnerable as she thought she was and discovers an empowering side of herself that falls in love with the guy who helps her find that self, blah, blah, blah...then you’re gonna’ hate my story.
Because mine is not the story you read every time you bend back the cover of the latest trend novel. It’s not the “I can do anything, now that I’ve found you/I’m misunderstood but one day you’ll find me irresistible because of it” tale. Why? Because, if I was being honest with you, I’m a complete witch. There’s nothing redeeming about me. I’m a friend using, drug abusing, sex addict from Los Angeles. I’m every girlfriend’s worst nightmare and every boy’s fantasy. I’m Sophie Price...And this is the story about how I went from the world’s most envied girl to the girl no one wanted around and why I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Stella's
future was set, and it was a bright one. She was engaged to a man she
adored, and was headed to law school in the fall. Tragically, her
perfectly planned future ends just as it was beginning. With
no ties to family or friends, Stella finds herself alone in a new city,
spiraling out of control. Her typical day comes to a close with her
passed out on the floor; sometimes clothed. Luckily,
her new roommate, essentially a stranger, is dead set on getting Stella
past her grief and back to functioning within society. Putting one foot
in front of the other, she climbs up from the bottom of a bottle. Even
with all her progress, Stella walks through life unfeeling, numb.
Defiant, she sends out warning signals for the world to keep away. But,
is that what she really wants? With
the steadfast help of a few tight knit friends, she gradually begins to
feel again. She starts to savor the flavor of food again; lets herself
notice how the handsome bartender glances at her. Still, after allowing
herself a fling, she wonders if she will ever be able to let go of her
shattered past, fully enjoy the present, or get over what she thought
would be her perfect future and with the man who destroyed her heart.
Gather ‘round,
love, because I want you. I want what you have, I want what you don’t have, I
want more of what I already have. I want. But if you so much as ask for
something in return, go ahead and walk away. Know if you want to play in my
world, it’s every man for themselves and the weak become mine. Leeches will be
obliterated because I make it my job to destroy them. I protect what’s mine and
I take what’s yours...because that’s what I do. I want.
My story will not
endear me to you and, frankly, I could care less if it does because I’m in this
for the money and nothing else. There’s nothing redeeming about me. I’m a
corrupt, money hungry, immoral asshole from Los Angeles. I’m every man’s worst
nightmare and every girl’s fantasy.
I’m
Spencer Blackwell...And this is the story about how I went from the world’s most
coveted guy to the guy no one wanted around and why I wouldn’t trade it for
anything in the world.
Globug's Take
My first thought after reading that synopsis was don't believe everything you read. Spencer is so self deprecating. And technically, he should be in some aspects. His spoiled and privileged life style have him always wanting for more. But Spencer has a heart of gold. He loves his mother and sister. His father is essentially the devil and forces Spencer to do his biding. Spencer can barely face himself in the mirror after helping his father wreck the lives of his business competitors so he can gain more power. He just wants to escape his father's control and that requires money. So one more time running the devils errand and he should be set to leave. Of course, that's if things go as planned, which they never do right? Now the real Spencer gets to shine as he steps up to be his sisters hero and maybe even save his own soul. Spencer and Bridget leave home and go into hiding at a ranch in Montana. Spencer goes to work on the ranch to earn their keep and repay the hospitality of his college roommate's family. After working for several weeks he feels accomplished and truly valuable for first time in his life. He feels proud himself but not worthy of the girl who has caught his attention. Cricket was probably the last thing Spencer expected to find on the ranch. Not only the sexiest little thing he's ever seen but smart and feisty as well. It's too bad she has a boyfriend. Also unfortunate is the secret Cricket hides. None of the family is quick to include Spencer and Bridge on what Cricket has to hide. But as she works almost daily with Spencer it becomes no secret that they are drawn to each other. Both of them try to resist the building emotions and attraction. Just as they choose a future together, the pasts catches up to both of them. I didn't see it coming. I honestly had a shock and awe moment when Cricket's secret is revealed. Spencer proves just how devoted to love and family he is. I was an emotional mess with worry that the author wasn't going give me the happily ever after that I was hoping for. I'm all for "lessons learned" stories but I want the character to be rewarded for learning the lesson with a happy ending. Thanks heavens Fisher Amelie brought the happy. I loved GREED! It was sinfully good (see what I did there). I'm ready for the next sin.
Favorite Quote
"I'm going to tell you something, but this can only be said once," she began, and took another shaky breath,"I suffer for you," she barely got out. "I want to be near you always. I'm falling in love with you and it's-it's a sweet agony, however, it's still an agony."
My pick for Spencer (model Jeff Kasser)
About Fisher Amelie:
Fisher
Amelie is the author of The Leaving Series, Callum & Harper and
Thomas & January. She began her writing career as a copywriter for
an internet marketing company wherein one of their client's said, 'Hey!
You're funny. You should write books'. Which in turn she said, 'Hey, get
out of here! This is the lady's restroom.' While washing her hands and
the embarrassment from her face, she thought they may have had a valid
point. So, she took the thousands of hours of writing stories growing
up, tucked them into her pocket and began writing and writing and
writing.
Fisher Amelie's GREED is being released TODAY and we are so excited to join in the release day launch for it. GREED is a mature young adult/new adult contemporary novel and is the second book in The Seven Deadly Series. Check out what we have for you today and then enter to win in the blog tour giveaway! You could win a signed copy of VAIN, Book 1 in the series, or a Kindle Fire!
ABOUT GREED (Book 2 in the Seven Deadly Series):
Gather ‘round, love, because I want you. I want what you have, I want what you don’t have, I want more of what I already have. I want. But if you so much as ask for something in return, go ahead and walk away. Know if you want to play in my world, it’s every man for themselves and the weak become mine. Leeches will be obliterated because I make it my job to destroy them. I protect what’s mine and I take what’s yours...because that’s what I do. I want.
My story will not endear me to you and, frankly, I could care less if it does because I’m in this for the money and nothing else. There’s nothing redeeming about me. I’m a corrupt, money hungry, immoral asshole from Los Angeles. I’m every man’s worst nightmare and every girl’s fantasy.
I’m Spencer Blackwell...And this is the story about how I went from the world’s most coveted guy to the guy no one wanted around and why I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
About Fisher Amelie:
Fisher Amelie is the author of The Leaving Series, Callum & Harper and Thomas & January. She began her writing career as a copywriter for an internet marketing company wherein one of their client's said, 'Hey! You're funny. You should write books'. Which in turn she said, 'Hey, get out of here! This is the lady's restroom.' While washing her hands and the embarrassment from her face, she thought they may have had a valid point. So, she took the thousands of hours of writing stories growing up, tucked them into her pocket and began writing and writing and writing.
Prologue
Greed is a
strange, strange sin.
All you
want to do is acquire. Acquire money, acquire material, acquire time, acquire
energy, acquire attention. The running mantra is “I want, I want, I want” but
that quickly turns to “I need, I need, I need.” Suddenly there just isn’t
enough time for friends, for family, for anyone. Your goal is to acquire and to
make sure what you acquire stays acquired. Your life depends on it. You don’t
see truth because the truth is shadowed by enormous homes, incredibly fast
cars, in lavish spending. Your life no longer belongs to you, but you are blind
to it all because those around you are seeking the same.
So you
shuffle along at an impossible rate, and you pass the real world around you.
But what
you’ll come to realize, altogether too late, is that it’s never enough. It’s
simply never enough.
Chapter One
“It’s confirmed. Peter Knight of Evergreen won’t approve the
acquisition. You know what to do,” my snake of a father told me, not two steps
into his front door.
“I just got off a seven-hour flight. You can’t let me settle in?
Possibly say hello?”
He stood, watching me, a slight tick in his square jaw. He tucked his
hands into his Italian silk pants. His six-foot frame followed the steps up to
the foyer and stopped a few inches away from my own. We were face to face.
Although I fell an inch shorter, he no longer intimidated me. I knew if I had
to, I could kick his ass.
“Hello, Spencer,” he said, a serpent’s smile spread wide across his
mouth before falling flat. “Get to work. I don’t pay you to sit around. I don’t
care if it is your Christmas break.”
We stayed where we were, each waiting on the other to back down. The
tension was palpable. In the end, his face relaxed and he began to chuckle,
stepping aside andmaking way for me. I picked up my bags
and headed for my room, giving myself plenty of space to pass him without
touching him. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I changed my mind and
threw my bags on the second to last step, intending to pick them up later. I
stretched my muscles, loving the feel of my back popping, and started for the
kitchen.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he asked, still standing
in the foyer, watching my every move.
“If I don’t say hi to Mom and Bridge, they’ll think something’s up,” I
told him and continued on.
He didn’t
respond, but I felt his stare burning into the back of my head.
