The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,16
moments. What if they’d waltzed into the stairwell with Jared? She’d have died on the spot. “I’ll come home and visit soon.”
“He wants to see your work,” Mom added.
Amanda rolled her eyes. “No, he wants to play with Titan’s toys.”
“That, too—honey, I need to take this call.”
The call ended, leaving her alone in the luxury suite. She turned toward her makeshift workstation that overlooked the city, but her work didn’t lure her from the kitchenette. Amanda shook the bowl and uncovered her earbud. She tried to connect the Bluetooth to her phone, then tossed it aside. “I won’t be able to save my earbud.”
The empty room felt smaller than before. Her thoughts drifted to the mystery man again. She couldn’t stay here, stewing in her companionless night like this hadn’t been a decision she’d made. Amanda grabbed a headscarf and handgun, found her swipe card, and shoved it in with her cell phone. She’d replace her earbuds and be surrounded by strangers. Much better than sitting alone, wondering what might’ve been if she were someone else. At least tonight she could pretend.
CHAPTER TEN
TEN YEARS AGO
THE WHITE HOUSE
Mandy slumped at the family dining room table and pouted. “It’s not fair.” She hadn’t expected her request to be an instant slam-dunk, but at the very least, she’d expected her parents to hear her out. Wasn’t that what the newest leader of the free world was supposed to do? Diplomatically listen and find a compromise.
Dad speared a slice of his roast beef with his fork, then offered the understanding look that had coaxed their nation through their grief. “Life’s not fair.”
If he had said that to the cameras after President Doddery’s heart attack, the press would have called him heartless, which was how he was acting toward Mandy right now. “You don’t understand.”
“I do, kiddo.”
She gripped the edge of the table so hard that the flesh around her purple metallic fingernail polish started to match. “There is literally no one on Earth that I want to meet more.”
Dad swallowed his food. “You mentioned that.”
Mom and Dad continued their meal as if the discussion ended, sine die. “This isn’t Congress,” Mandy pointed out. “We’re not just done talking.”
“We are, sweet pea.” Mom eyed Mandy as though she were one of her college students whispering too loud during a lecture. “It’s time to move on.”
“No.” She stomped under the table. “I didn’t ask to meet the German Chancellor or Stanley Cup guys—”
“Come on, kiddo,” Dad tried. “Who doesn’t want to meet the Capitals?”
“Dad.” He wasn’t being rational, and she wasn’t a kid. Mandy turned to her mom. “I know you understand, don’t you?”
“You have an exam,” Mom said simply, like that stupid fact hadn’t been shared a dozen times.
“I always have exams, and I will be miserable for the rest of my life!”
“I get it. I really do.” Mom set her fork down. “But it’s time to think like a proton and stay positive—”
“Do not tell me some stupid science teacher joke!” Mandy pushed away from the table as tears stung the back of her eyes. “I didn’t ask to be in this family. I didn’t ask to move from one stupid house into the next, or to go to that stupid school. I never asked for any of this!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She mopped them away, smearing dark eyeliner and mascara onto her knuckles. “My absolute favorite singer in the entire world will be here, and I can’t even stay home for the stupid luncheon to say hello.”
Dad turned to Mom. “Any good news from the clinical trials you’re overseeing?”
“Nothing new, but we’re still hopeful.” Mom took another bite, then swallowed. “Either way, it’s great experience for the Ph.D. candidates.”
“You care more about them than me,” Mandy shouted, feeling six instead of sixteen.
“Mandy,” Mom said softly. “Sit down—”
She ran from the dining room and up the stairs. They were so stubborn! Maybe she should’ve kept her school uniform on for dinner instead of changing into the torn jean skirt, black shirt, and Doc Martens. The boots never seemed to make conversations with her parents any easier. Or perhaps she shouldn’t have let them learn about her new eyebrow piercing through a tabloid the previous week.
She pulled her cell phone from the back pocket of her skirt and was storming down the center hall when a text message popped on the screen.
Some people are meeting at Jaime’s. You should come.
Drink glass emojis trailed off the screen of her notification.
Amanda stopped next to a