JК
Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 10 из 138Nearly every morning, she heads to the gym afterI arrive. “You know I have to be able to rely on you,” she says.
“Yes, I know.”
“From where I’m standing, I’m not so sure you do. In fact, I’m pretty sure that you don’t.”
I look at Penley “the Pencil” Turnbull and want to scream so loud it will break crystal, and there’s plenty of it in earshot. Her patronizing tone, the way she refuses to yell at me because that would be sooo middle-class, it drives me absolutely bonkers.
Penley folds her arms. It’s her Mommie Dearest pose. Actually, her Step mommie Dearest pose. “So, can I still rely on you, Kristin?”
“Yes, of course you can.”
“Good. I’m glad we’ve had this little talk.”
She begins to walk away, then stops, very nearly pirouettes. Almost as an afterthought, she updates me on the kids, of whom she isn’t the natural mother. Their real mother died in a shooting accident the year Sean was born. “Dakota and Sean are both in the kitchen, finishing their breakfast. Oh, and be sure to double-check that they have everything for school. I don’t want to get another note home saying they forgot something. It’s embarrassing. ”
Yes, Your Highness.
I watch Penley glide down the hallway to her bedroom before I start for the kitchen. I only get a few steps when the phone rings. I pick it up in the study.
“Hello, Turnbull residence.”
“Is the boss in the room?”
It’s Michael.
I lower my voice. “No. You just missed the mistress.”
“Were you late?”
“Yes.”
“Was she a bitch to you?”
“You have to ask?”
“I guess you’ve got a point there,” he says. “So, how are you, anyway?”
“Michael…”
“What?”
“What did I tell you about calling me here?”
“Who says I called for you?”
“Yeah, right, like you actually want to speak with Penley.”
“What, a guy can’t talk to his wife?”
“You know what I mean; it’s risky.”
“I keep telling you, Penley doesn’t believe in answering the phone. That’s what she has you for.”
Right then, I hear a voice behind me. Her voice. “Who is that, Kristin?” asks Penley.
I nearly swallow my stomach.
“Oh, gosh, you startled me,” I say, breathless.
She couldn’t care less. “I asked who you were talking to.”
“No one,” I answer.
“It’s obviously someone. ” She gives me a disapproving glare.
“Yes, I know.”
“From where I’m standing, I’m not so sure you do. In fact, I’m pretty sure that you don’t.”
I look at Penley “the Pencil” Turnbull and want to scream so loud it will break crystal, and there’s plenty of it in earshot. Her patronizing tone, the way she refuses to yell at me because that would be sooo middle-class, it drives me absolutely bonkers.
Penley folds her arms. It’s her Mommie Dearest pose. Actually, her Step mommie Dearest pose. “So, can I still rely on you, Kristin?”
“Yes, of course you can.”
“Good. I’m glad we’ve had this little talk.”
She begins to walk away, then stops, very nearly pirouettes. Almost as an afterthought, she updates me on the kids, of whom she isn’t the natural mother. Their real mother died in a shooting accident the year Sean was born. “Dakota and Sean are both in the kitchen, finishing their breakfast. Oh, and be sure to double-check that they have everything for school. I don’t want to get another note home saying they forgot something. It’s embarrassing. ”
Yes, Your Highness.
I watch Penley glide down the hallway to her bedroom before I start for the kitchen. I only get a few steps when the phone rings. I pick it up in the study.
“Hello, Turnbull residence.”
“Is the boss in the room?”
It’s Michael.
I lower my voice. “No. You just missed the mistress.”
“Were you late?”
“Yes.”
“Was she a bitch to you?”
“You have to ask?”
“I guess you’ve got a point there,” he says. “So, how are you, anyway?”
“Michael…”
“What?”
“What did I tell you about calling me here?”
“Who says I called for you?”
“Yeah, right, like you actually want to speak with Penley.”
“What, a guy can’t talk to his wife?”
“You know what I mean; it’s risky.”
“I keep telling you, Penley doesn’t believe in answering the phone. That’s what she has you for.”
Right then, I hear a voice behind me. Her voice. “Who is that, Kristin?” asks Penley.
I nearly swallow my stomach.
“Oh, gosh, you startled me,” I say, breathless.
She couldn’t care less. “I asked who you were talking to.”
“No one,” I answer.
“It’s obviously someone. ” She gives me a disapproving glare.