Page 58 of Crossing Lines

“That’s classified.”

“This isn’t the CIA.”

“It’s not, but since you’re not the client, I can’t disclose that information to you.”

“Okay, then give me a hint,” I say. “Blink once if you have an idea, twice if you don’t.”

Nate doesn’t blink at all.

“Not blinking wasn’t an option…”

Nate’s lips twitch. “I suggest you talk to Evren.”

“Of course you do.”

“I’ll get working on the phone,” Nate says, “and when it’s done, I’ll show you how to use the new app.”

“Did you have to show Evren how to use it?”

Nate huffs out a laugh. “No.”

“Then I don’t need help, either.”

“Niiiiina, baby,” Mom says. “Where have you been? It’s been days.”

“Sorry, it’s been busy.” Normally, when she says my name, it grates on my nerves. But right now, the familiarity of it is strangely comforting after last night. Maybe talking to her will bring me a sense of grounding I so desperately need because despite putting on a brave face, I can’t help but replay the break-in—the fear for Evren, for myself. Sure, I’ll dust myself off and keep moving forward since that’s always been my way, but it doesn’t stop the lingering tension that clings to my body.

“Busy planning the jacket launch, I hope?”

“Yeah…” I lie.

“Are you? Because I noticed you never created that website like we discussed.”

“My internet’s been down for the past few weeks. I’m working on getting it fixed.”

“Well, good thing I got Susan’s son to make you a website.”

“You…what?”

“It went live a few days ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this beforehand?” I open my browser and type in my name. Sure enough, at the top of the search is a new website that has the jacket front and center with a countdown ticker that’s set for a few weeks from now.

“I could ask you the same question. Why didn’t you tell me you were having internet problems?” She says “internet” like she thinks I’m lying, like it’s a substitute for something else.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “it’s just…life’s been hard lately.”

“Right. Hard.” Mom scoffs. “What’s so hard about your fancy new job? Or having millions of dollars waiting for you on this jacket?”

Instead of arguing with her about that, because it’ll lead to nowhere, I ask, “Why is the countdown set for a few weeks from now?”

“That’s when we launch.”

“We can’t just launch a product without inventory.”

“Why not?” Mom asks. “We’ll find a way. And if they never get a jacket…” She trails off, her meaning clear. It wouldn’t matter to her, not when we’d have the money, not when she’d have the money.

“No, we’d get sued. And speaking of a lawsuit, Stella threatened to sue me if I ever tried to sell the jacket.”

---