Page 31 of Jackal
“You know what, if you could cause enough excitement to keep the entire Blue Region distracted for the day, that would really help.” Gwen rolls her eyes. “Somehow, I think you’re capable of that.”
“Is that a compliment, Gwen? Coming from you, I believe it was.”
Gwen laughs and after a moment, I join in. I glance at Phoenix and a flash of pain crosses over her eyes. The smile immediately drops from my face. Just when I think I’m figuring her out...
“I’ll be leaving in ten minutes, if you want to say your goodbyes now,” Phoenix says to me and leaves the room.
“Do I stand a chance of winning her over?” I ask the table of women.
“Slim to none,” Jewel says.
“If you’ll just stop acting like Jackal, maybe,” Gwen says softly.
I sigh. “Hard to teach an old dog new tricks…”
The goodbyes are brief. I wish I had a better feeling about it as I say goodbye to Gwen. She is wearing one of Phoenix’s shirts and a pair of gold earrings that dangle beneath her lobes. She looks more like the old Gwen today, which makes me hurt and rejoice at the same time. I wonder if she put on the earrings in anticipation of seeing Folsom.
“You think he’ll be waiting for me?” she asks, as if reading my mind.
“I don’t think, I know.”
She doesn’t look like she believes me. Sophia’s a hot piece of ass, but she’s not Foley’s type. Plus the guy is monogamous as fuck; if he gave his heart to Gwen Allison, that’s where it will stay.
“Tell Foley hey for me when you find him,” I tell her.
She blinks and squeezes my arm and gives Phoenix another hug. Something is weighing heavily on her and I wish I knew what it was. I wait in the car while they exchange words. When Phoenix gets in the car, she seems shaken.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Fine. Do you think Gwen was acting weird?”
“She just escaped from prison and is hiding out in the Blue countryside with a bunch of convicts. I would hope so.”
“I’m being serious, Jackal. There’s something wrong.”
“Why didn’t you just ask her?”
“I don’t know her well enough.” She shrugs. “It’s just a feeling…”
Her Silverbook hovers and she selects a playlist, the music quickly filling the car and drowning out any further conversation.
I scratch my chin.
“Phoenix,” I say, turning the music down. “There’s this thing called communication—”
“I don’t want to talk, Jackal!” She shoots me a look before turning the music back up.
I turn it down.
“I, for one, am extremely stressed,” I start.
“I’m not your psychiatrist!”
“First with Folsom missing, and then my damn handler keeps—”
“Okay, Jackal! Okay!”
I smile innocently. “Feel free to share, Phoenix. The floor is yours.”
