Page 32 of Creeping Beautiful

“I know. You learned from the best, right?”

“Past your prime now, old man.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Indie.”

“I’m joking. God. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you think I’m hiding a shank in my sweatpants.”

“Where did you put the gun?”

“Somewhere safe. Don’t worry. Why? You got kids or something?”

“Do you think I have kids?”

She stuffs more pizza in her mouth as her answer.

My phone rings on the table and I’m way too happy to hear that sound, because I jump up and cross the room before it gets to the end of the Ramones ringtone. I tab accept and say, “Hey. Thanks for calling me back.”

“Put it on speaker,” Indie calls from the couch. “I want to hear everything.”

I turn away from her, ignoring her request. “I need you, Donovan. Now. How soon can you get here?”

“Hi, Donovan!”

“He says hi,” I tell Indie back. Even though Donovan hasn’t said a fucking word yet. Not even hello. A few beats of silence on the other end of the phone. “Donovan? You there?”

“I’m here.”

“I need you.”

“I… I can’t get away right now.”

“You’re not on call. Your fucking message said so. I. Need. You. Now.”

“It’s a four-hour flight. And it’s already pretty late to make it there tonight.”

“Three and a half. And take your fucking jet.”

“Three and three quarters,” Indie calls out. She does not miss anything, does she? And why this surprises me, I don’t know. Because I’m the one who trained her to be that way.

“She sounds fine.”

“She’s not fine. She’s pissed off at Adam because she thinks he—”

“He took Nate! He has him, Donovan. I know it. And I’m sick of this shit! It ends now. He can’t get away with this again. Do you hear me?”

“I’m on my way.” The call drops.

I turn back to Indie. “He’s on his way.”

“Good.”

“You knew he was in LA.”

“What?”