Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
He glanced away from it, but Laila wasn’t finished: “The Ravens put in so much time trying to paint you as an ill-behaved problem child, but now everyone can see who you really are. Anyone could call your interview a scripted attempt to sweeten your image, but everything people saw last night was genuine.” She clicked through a few more tabs, lingering only a few seconds on each one so he could see they were additional writeups on the game from other sources. “Overall tone is thoughtful and positive.”
“I do not,” Jean started, but his care what people think of me evaporated on his tongue. Last night proved that the six months of aggressive and antagonistic attention had gotten to him whether he wanted it to or not. He downed the rest of his coffee in one go and said instead, “I don’t want to read my mail anymore. Throw it all away if you get to it before I do.” He didn’t bother to specify Kevin as an exception, knowing they’d check the senders for familiar names before tossing his letters into the trash.
“Gladly,” Laila said. “I’ll buy a shredder today.”
Silence descended in the kitchen, but it couldn’t last. Jeremy gently nudged him and asked, “Are you going to your appointment today, or would you rather get it rescheduled?”
Jean glanced at the clock and saw it was a quarter after nine. He’d missed last week’s session because of the banquet. He would rather never go back, but he had promises to keep. “I have to go, but I need to shower first.” The thought of getting wet when he knew what was coming for him in an hour left his stomach in shreds, but he’d gone to bed gross from a game and knew he was a mess. “I will be quick.”
“You always are,” Jeremy said, holding out a hand for Jean’s mug.
Jean turned it over and left the room. In the short time it took him to wash up and get dressed for the day, pictures from this morning’s return home were posted online. He saw them pulled up on Cat’s laptop when he checked the kitchen for his friends. The morning sun was kinder to his bruises than the harsh light of Rhemann’s bathroom, but the ones around his throat were clearly left by fingers. Jean didn’t care to read any speculation about his encounter with Zane, so he turned his back on the kitchen and tried the living room next.
Cat was brushing Laila’s hair as Laila tapped away on her phone, and Jeremy had a foot on the coffee table as he checked his ankle. Jeremy smiled at Jean’s arrival and got to his feet. His LSAT guides were on the table with his French book, but after a brief hesitation Jeremy only grabbed the latter before leading Jean to the front door.
Jean watched him take his keys off the hook before saying, “I want to sell the car.”
“Sure,” Jeremy agreed.
Cat’s frantic, “Wait!” almost drowned out Laila’s indignant squawk. The thump of furniture getting knocked aside made Jean think Cat vaulted Laila to get out of the room faster. She caught at the living room doorframe to stop her skid into the hall and reached for him. “I mean, yes! Yes, you should. Let me take you when you do it. My uncle would buy it off you in a heartbeat. It’s a collectible to the right people, and all, so between that and me vouching for you, you’d make bank on it. Five figures easy.”
“You don’t believe that,” Jean said skeptically.
“I know I’m right,” Cat promised. She motioned frantically toward him, like she thought he’d walk away before she got through her spiel, and said, “But Jean, you could even trade it in for a motorcycle of your own and still have plenty leftover. You don’t have to, obviously, you can use this starter one indefinitely, but wouldn’t it be nice to have something that’s just yours?”
She made it sound easy. Maybe it really was. Jean hesitated before saying, “I’ll think about it.”
The guards saw them off with serious faces, but Jean didn’t hear any more cries for his attention. Maybe the reporters were satisfied with the shots they’d gotten already, or the guards ejected them when they tried to come closer for a statement. Either way, Jeremy got them on the road north without any further setbacks. Jean watched the city slide past his window and tried not to think about what was coming.
Jeremy gave him peace until he parked, and then he said, “I spoke to Renee Walker last night.” It was unexpected enough that Jean could only stare at him. Jeremy studied him with an inscrutable expression before explaining, “She couldn’t get ahold of you, so she had Kevin call me. She’d heard the rumors that Reacher attacked you at the court and needed to know you were okay. I told her Coach was looking after you and that you’d talk to her today. Is that all right?”