Read Online And Then Everything Unraveled by Jennifer Sturman - Free Book Online

clearly suggested that T.K.’s ship hadn’t gone down, at least not the way everyone said it did, which could only be good news—I couldn’t help but think that Charley would probably have some helpful ideas about Quinn, too. She was gorgeous and confident and she definitely had far more experience than I did in these matters—just about anyone did.
    The subway was amazingly fast, and it was also a lot less stressful than the ride uptown with Patience had been. Half an hour after I’d left Prescott I was back at the loft.
    I found Charley sprawled on a sofa. They’d finished filming the night I’d arrived, so now, at Dieter’s insistence, she was reading a book titled The Theory of Meta-Surrealism in Neo-Industrial Film: Post-Production as Praxis. Dieter said it would be impossible to begin the editing process until everyone involved had finished “zis mastervork,” as it had inspired his artistic vision. Charley seemed to be finding it less inspiring.
    “Oh thank God,” she said when she saw me, slamming the book shut and practically leaping up from the sofa. “I’m so glad you’re here. You have to tell me all about your day. I want to know everything, from the second you got there to the second you left, and not just because I’ll poke my eyes out if I have to slog through any more of this book. And I think we should do it over ice cream. But I need to go get some, which means you have to chaperone me so I don’t buy out the entire store. I haveabsolutely no willpower when it comes to ice cream. Want to run to the deli with me?”
    “Sure,” I said, but just then her phone started to ring. She checked the screen and frowned.
    “I should get this,” she said apologetically.
    “I can go,” I said.
    “Are you sure? Do you know where it is? Do you need money?”
    “I’m all set. What flavor do you want?”
    “Chocolate anything is good. And don’t let me eat more than half a pint by myself. Or maybe three-quarters if I behave myself and ask very nicely.”
    There was a deli on the corner, and I carefully selected a pint of chocolate peanut butter and another of chocolate chip cookie dough from the freezer section. And then, after a little more careful thought, I added a pint of java mocha fudge.
    The guy at the counter looked from me to the ice cream and back again. “You are relative of lady down the street?” he asked. It wasn’t clear whether he figured this out based on my appearance or my selections, but apparently Charley was a regular visitor to his freezer section.
    I had a full set of keys by then, including one for the elevator, but I took the stairs to justify the java mocha fudge. I figured the climb to the fifth floor was worth at least a quarter-pintand maybe more, since carrying the ice cream was sort of like carrying hand weights.
    While the elevator opened directly into the apartment, announcing its arrival with a beep, the entrance from the stairs didn’t have that feature, so Charley didn’t hear me come in. And while she’d taken the phone into her bedroom, she hadn’t shut her door, and the loft had the acoustics of a concert hall. Which meant her side of the conversation sounded as clear as if she were standing right next to me.
    “The poor kid’s already had to adjust to a lot in a short period of time,” she was saying in an aggravated way. “And I think she’s making good progress. There’s no need to rush things.”
    There was a long pause, which gave me every opportunity to make some noise and let Charley know I was back, but it was impossible not to want to listen in. I mean, I didn’t know what ‘poor kid’ she’d be talking about besides me and, judging by her tone, it was probably Patience on the other end of the line.
    “I wouldn’t describe it as a fantasy,” said Charley. “More an understandable reluctance to meet reality head-on—”
    Patience, if it was Patience, must have interrupted her then, because there was another pause before Charley