Page 5 of One
“Where are your headache pills? You should take one, just in case,” Uri says worriedly, jumping up and going to the kitchen. He comes back quickly with a glass of water.
It’s too easy to fuck with him when Sari is involved.
“Laying down is also good for migraines,” Rague pitches in as he walks into the lab. His short hair is damp, and he’s wearing a flannel shirt. Ending donors is usually messy, and we need to be careful not to leave any evidence on ourselves. Hence the huge shower next to the FUNS room.
“Another thing that helps with migraines? Yellow…lights.” I smirk at Uri.
His eyes widen when he gets it. “Fuck off, foster brother,” he grumbles at me, flipping me off.
“Suicide. Bridge,” I snap and flip him back.
Sari shakes his head, but his lips twitch in amusement. He’s always found our manipulative games…entertaining.
I put the globe back and let my body fall into a chair, rolling toward Rami.
“You two are incorrigible. But I’m a fan of your work.” He smiles my way.
I feel a slight enjoyment hearing Uri’s annoyed grunt. “He’s a psychopathic asshole!”
So very true.
“Says the narcissistic sociopath,” I throw back at him. Uri is the successful owner of various restaurants all around Illinois, and actually enjoys being surrounded by people who adore him.
“Why are we here? I’m busy,” Gabe interjects, blonde head down, eyes on his phone once again. He’s our legal advisor. Hence hand-glued-to-phone. But with our family side business, having a dirty shirt among us is a precautionary step.
Rague sits his huge hulking ass next to him on the sofa, making Gabe bounce a little.
“I think there’s something going on with Meg,” Rami says in a solemn tone, which is very out-of-character. And all the eyes in the room are instantly on him.
“What is it?” Gabe abandons his phone on the rectangular coffee table.
“She’s acting…strangely,” Rami continues, his fingers flying over the white keyboard. “Serena, screen please.” A map of the Lincoln area suddenly appears on the white wall near him. Rague and Gabe both leave the sofa and walk closer. “In the last three months she went to the Grand View General Hospital four times.”
“Are you cyber stalking her?” Sari sounds surprised.
“I asked her where she was going, and she has a tell when she lies.”
“Slight puckering of her lips,” Gabe offers. Uri and I both nod.
“So, I checked,” Rami finishes. He’s the family hacker. He mainly helps us find information on the donors and covers our butts when we fuck up. He’s a big motherfucker, but not as big as Rague.
“Do you know anything, foster brother?” Rague looks at me.
They always try to tease me with this shit. Although Meg and Linda did legally adopt me and Sari when we were kids—they only fostered the others—I’m not that much chummier with her than any of the other people in this room. She sometimes functions as an advisor for Bear-Stone Labs—the medical company I’m president of—but we sure as fuck don’t dwell in chit-chats. I never do. With anybody.
“No. Maybe it was a psychiatrist consultation? Do you know which doctor she talked to?”
Rami nods. “Three months ago, she had an appointment to see the immune system specialist in the hospital, Dr. Sallinger. Maybe her lupus is getting worse.”
Everybody grunts at that. Meg has been fighting lupus for many years. But she’s a very proud person; doesn’t like to look weak in front of others, not even her family. Which doesn’t make it easy for us. And that’s why we usually keep a close eye on her. But lately I’ve been too focused on myself, trying to push away the unsettling, restless feeling that’s slowly crawling inside my guts. Even unleashing it on donors doesn’t make it go away.
“Did you ask her?” Sari looks at Rami. As usual, he goes for the clear, bold front attack.
“Did you talk to Linda?” Gabe instead goes for the sneaky side, lawyer-style.
“If Linda doesn’t know about this, she’s going to flip,” Rague reminds us.
We all flinch back at that, surely thinking about her devious, wicked, Machiavellian ways. My inner, unscrupulous nature salutes her.
