in a car with our winter coats on. I had sex with Sasha Cherlin, former child assassin, Company secret, and all-around badass chick.
I let off a little laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Sasha asks, trying to see herself in the dim reflection of the dark windows lit up by the moon outside.
I can’t answer that without offending her. So I just shrug. “The way things change so fast, ya know?”
“You mean us.” She drags her eyes away from the window.
“Is there gonna be an us?”
She gives me a shrug back. “Who knows? I’m not exactly in a good place right now. My whole life seems to be up in the air.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
“Pfft. Speak for yourself. I’m OCD about this kind of stuff. I like planning things. I hate being spontaneous. I like clear goals with measurable metrics. And a few hours ago I had to clean out my office, and you know what?” Her eyes are fixed on me now.
“What?”
“The only personal thing I had in that office was a dinosaur Chia Pet.”
“Sorry I broke it.”
“No,” she says, swiping a stray strand of hair from her face. “That’s not what I mean. I didn’t care about it. Not really. After two years of practically living at that school, my office should be like a bedroom. Filled with crap, trash, remnants of life. But my office was spotless.”
“So your OCD carries over into your professional life.”
“Why didn’t I notice that I was so uninvested?”
“Does it matter who notices first? You or your mentor?”
“Yeah, because I’m super-competitive. And I found out I lost a prized internship and got kicked out all in the same hour. I mean, that’s one hundred percent total failure.”
“Or,” I counter, “it’s a chance to take a second look at what you’re doing and why.” I’m about to say more, to ease her mind about what happened today. It has to feel like failure and I don’t want to end this conversation like that. But the car comes to a stop and she looks at me with pure panic in her eyes.
“You’re fine,” I say, squeezing her hand.
“What if they are panic attacks?”
“What if they’re not?”
The front door slams as the driver gets out, and then he’s pulling open Sasha’s door and offering her his hand.
She looks up at him, takes his offering, and steps out of the car like a professional.
I get out on my side and offer her my arm as the driver hands her off. She accepts it and we walk forward, her head tipped up to take in the entire four-story estate.
“Holy shit,” she says. “It really is like a hotel.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?”
“What makes you think that?” She laughs.
“You’re a billionaire’s daughter. You have a ton of money stashed all over the world, I’m sure. And yet this country estate in north central Nebraska impresses you.”
“I’ve been lots of places…” She trails off as we walk up the front steps. They are massive, like the manor, and built of stone, also like the manor. In fact, it looks like something from the French countryside. You can’t see it well at night, but the bricks are light-colored sandstone, there are wings on either side of the main house that seem to go on forever, and there are turrets to give it character. It looks a little like a castle to the kids who come through here. “But I’m a simple girl, Jax. My childhood home was an RV. And Ford’s house isn’t big. Not like this. I even shared a room with my sister Kate while we remodeled the main floor one year.”
The door swings open before I can remark on that insight into her childhood, and then the doorman is there, bowing and extending his hand in a wave that signals we are to come inside.
Sasha tightens her grip on my arm and I give her a reassuring pat on the hand.
“Your coat, ma’am?”
It’s a simple question, but Sasha just stands there with her mouth open.
“Here,” I say, slipping her coat down her arms. “I’ll help you with that.” She nods at me, but I can see the panic in her eyes. Has she been like this all fall? I don’t recall seeing her so disoriented. Of course, she’s practically been a recluse. Staying home most nights, unless she was working. “Are you OK?”
She looks around to see if anyone is watching, and then gives me such a small shake of her head, I almost miss it. “No.