Read Online Out of the Box 7 - Sea Change by Robert J. Crane - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Robert J. Crane
Ads: Link
up shit creek here.” I walked along the concrete edge of the pool and tossed a quick look back over my shoulder to the house in time to see the cameraman duck down, framed in the lit window to the kitchen. He was gonna look really funny walking around with that camera hanging out of his rectum.
“Does that make you happy?” Kat asked softly. I suspected that absent the abnormal lighting, she would probably look pale and sick. As it was, she looked a little like one of those aliens from Avatar , but shorter.
“You getting the shaft doesn’t exactly make me sad,” I said, folding my arms in front of me. “Do you have any idea how bad you screwed me over with that crap you pulled?”
“I didn’t—”
“If you deny it, I will fly my ass home tonight and drag Scott along with me,” I said, throwing up a finger in accusation.
“It wasn’t me,” Kat said. “I don’t have anything to do with the editing of the show, okay? I’m not the director.”
I locked my jaw until the last twitch of rage passed. It took a few seconds. “Who is?”
“Taggert,” she said, a small surrender.
“That guy really does have his fingers in a lot of butts.”
She blanched. “He’s just doing what he needs to in order to make the show successful.” She straightened a little. “To make my career a success.”
“Yeah, well, I remember when I put my effort toward making sure you lived long enough to have a career outside of a snuff film minus the film,” I said, glaring at her. “Though I doubt you even remember that time I stopped your brother on the IDS tower—”
“I remember,” she said, muttering.
“Yeah, so do I,” I said crossly, “every time that knucklehead pipes up about his precious Klementina—”
HEY , Gavrikov said. It was the favored expression of outrage among the voices in my head, because it always got me to take a moment to respond.
Shut up, Gavrikov.
“Can you please cool it about that?” She looked genuinely worried.
“Why?” I asked. “You worried that your brand will take a hit if people find out you’ve celebrated your centennial?”
“I did not celebrate a centennial,” she said, more than a little irritated, something that Kat very seldom was. “I don’t remember any of my life before, and you know it. I lost those memories—”
“In some noble pursuit, I’m sure.” I didn’t roll my eyes this time, because for all I knew, she had lost them nobly. Kat’s power was tied inextricably to life. As a Persephone-type meta, she could manipulate living greenery, which was kind of a cool thing to watch. Her other ability, though, was to heal people with the touch of her skin. Unfortunately for her, if she tried to heal too much, she lost memories. I’d seen her lose all her memories of Scott after an incident in Des Moines, Iowa, when she’d saved his life. They’d been one of those really annoying boyfriend/girlfriend combos, tight as her pants one day, and the next day he was a sobbing mess and she didn’t know him from a random guy on the street. It would have made for an awkward Thanksgiving dinner if we’d actually celebrated Thanksgiving that year.
“Sienna, I just want to live my new life—”
“If you’d just wanted to live your new life,” I said with grating harshness, “you would have let my little prison break incident pass without inflicting a call on me.”
“Well, I haven’t called you since,” she said.
“Not so,” I sniped. “You called me when I was in Atlanta dealing with that business with Tom Cavanagh—”
“Oh,” Kat said. “Right. I forgot. Well, it’s not like you answered—”
“Hell, no. I had J.J. block your calls.”
Her face fell. “What if I needed to get hold of you? You know, for an emergency—”
“You mean like this?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then I imagine you’d call me from a friend’s phone— if you have any of those left. ” I delivered the coup de grâce with the utter lack of remorse it required
“Does that make you happy?” Kat asked softly. I suspected that absent the abnormal lighting, she would probably look pale and sick. As it was, she looked a little like one of those aliens from Avatar , but shorter.
“You getting the shaft doesn’t exactly make me sad,” I said, folding my arms in front of me. “Do you have any idea how bad you screwed me over with that crap you pulled?”
“I didn’t—”
“If you deny it, I will fly my ass home tonight and drag Scott along with me,” I said, throwing up a finger in accusation.
“It wasn’t me,” Kat said. “I don’t have anything to do with the editing of the show, okay? I’m not the director.”
I locked my jaw until the last twitch of rage passed. It took a few seconds. “Who is?”
“Taggert,” she said, a small surrender.
“That guy really does have his fingers in a lot of butts.”
She blanched. “He’s just doing what he needs to in order to make the show successful.” She straightened a little. “To make my career a success.”
“Yeah, well, I remember when I put my effort toward making sure you lived long enough to have a career outside of a snuff film minus the film,” I said, glaring at her. “Though I doubt you even remember that time I stopped your brother on the IDS tower—”
“I remember,” she said, muttering.
“Yeah, so do I,” I said crossly, “every time that knucklehead pipes up about his precious Klementina—”
HEY , Gavrikov said. It was the favored expression of outrage among the voices in my head, because it always got me to take a moment to respond.
Shut up, Gavrikov.
“Can you please cool it about that?” She looked genuinely worried.
“Why?” I asked. “You worried that your brand will take a hit if people find out you’ve celebrated your centennial?”
“I did not celebrate a centennial,” she said, more than a little irritated, something that Kat very seldom was. “I don’t remember any of my life before, and you know it. I lost those memories—”
“In some noble pursuit, I’m sure.” I didn’t roll my eyes this time, because for all I knew, she had lost them nobly. Kat’s power was tied inextricably to life. As a Persephone-type meta, she could manipulate living greenery, which was kind of a cool thing to watch. Her other ability, though, was to heal people with the touch of her skin. Unfortunately for her, if she tried to heal too much, she lost memories. I’d seen her lose all her memories of Scott after an incident in Des Moines, Iowa, when she’d saved his life. They’d been one of those really annoying boyfriend/girlfriend combos, tight as her pants one day, and the next day he was a sobbing mess and she didn’t know him from a random guy on the street. It would have made for an awkward Thanksgiving dinner if we’d actually celebrated Thanksgiving that year.
“Sienna, I just want to live my new life—”
“If you’d just wanted to live your new life,” I said with grating harshness, “you would have let my little prison break incident pass without inflicting a call on me.”
“Well, I haven’t called you since,” she said.
“Not so,” I sniped. “You called me when I was in Atlanta dealing with that business with Tom Cavanagh—”
“Oh,” Kat said. “Right. I forgot. Well, it’s not like you answered—”
“Hell, no. I had J.J. block your calls.”
Her face fell. “What if I needed to get hold of you? You know, for an emergency—”
“You mean like this?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Then I imagine you’d call me from a friend’s phone— if you have any of those left. ” I delivered the coup de grâce with the utter lack of remorse it required
Similar Books
