Page 111 of Sing For Me

The words are on the tip of my tongue.I will kill you. I will break your neck and throw you in the river and nobody will give a shit that you’re gone.

But I think of Reese, that look she gave me in her office a moment ago.

You didn’t think about me.

I take a step toward Simon. “If you go near her again—or even step foot in this hotel or this town again—I will make you regret it for the rest of your shitty, lonely days. Do you understand?”

Simon, of course, just stands there, not saying anything. Then gets an almost gleeful expression on his face as he whirls around and picks up his phone.

It doesn’t matter that his lawyer didn’t hear my words. I’m already incriminated—that punch will air on TV, and I’ll be charged. I humiliated everyone I care about.

I eye the crew, wondering if I could ask them to take him out. But just then I spot a giant red beard coming from the front door.

“What the fuck has happened here?” Rufus asks, looking from me to the asshole with the phone.

“He hit me! And he’s going down!” Simon exclaims.

The biggest crew member steps forward. “Think you’re forgetting the first half of that story,” he says.

Simon sputters.

“I need him the fuck out of here,” I say to Rufus. “They can explain.”

Rufus nods. “Can’t wait to fuckin’ hear it, after we take care of business. Hey, little man?”

CHAPTER29

Eli

TRACK:Mary Gauthier, “Mercy Now”

Idon’t know where to go, but if this is my last day working at Rolling Hills, maybe I should take a walk around to say goodbye. Shit, if I’m not working here, I should probably move out of the staff apartments too, even though I’m part owner of the building. I own a bunch of other buildings I could move into.

The thought is more depressing than I can handle right now, so I focus on making my way upstairs to the lobby.

I’m crossing the marble floor, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, when I hear my name.

“Eli!”

I glance up, then scowl. Jude. One person I don’t need to see, with his constant cheery exuberance. His complete denial that there are people who don’t live blessed lives like he does.

“Hey,” he says when he jogs up to me. “What’s up with you?”

I size him up. The rumors either haven’t spread up here or Jude’s been too oblivious to catch them.

“Nothing. I’m not really in the mood for conversation, man.” I angle toward the door cut into the drywall façade shielding the fancy lobby from the construction going on in the east wing.

Jude falls behind me a little, and I think he’s actually going to take the hint, but when I swing open the door, he catches it. “I’ll join you. I haven’t seen this part since they got past the framing.”

I grit my teeth, but it’s not like I can stop him.

Inside, it looks like we’ve caught the place on a lunch break. It’s normally a hive of activity in here, but right now, there are only a couple of workers around. One of them, wearing a reflective vest and hard hat passes us, gives us a quick look.

“We’re supposed to be wearing hats in here,” Jude says, speaking the words the guy wouldn’t once he recognized us. He says it, but he seems unbothered, shoving his hands in the pockets of his khaki dress pants.

“I don’t really care if I get knocked on the head,” I say. “Take me out of my goddamned misery.”

“What about me?”

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