SEVER Jane, Melissa (management books to read .TXT) 📖

was worth a shot.” She shrugs her shoulders and then smiles. “But you, however, could meet their pre-requisites.”

“Pre-requisites… as in plural? What else are they demanding? Blood?”

“Not far off. Along with proof of last financial year’s tax assessment, you need a recent police check and photo ID of yourself, all sent in prior. Then you sit and wait to see if you’re accepted.”

My curiosity is well and truly piqued. I don’t like my chances of being accepted, even though my business financials are strong, and a police check may find one speeding fine from five years ago, but I certainly don’t carry the wealth these people would be expecting and especially not now Shawn has blown it all.

But it’s worth a shot.

I have to find out what my sister is sinking herself into. My mind is running wild with possible explanations. Anything from being a high-class escort, to a cult member committing human sacrifices, to dealings with the formidable mafia.

“This source of yours, do you trust him?”

Amanda nods with gusto.

“Well then, sign me up. But wait…” a sudden thought hits me, “if this place is intentionally kept secret, what stops anyone from telling, especially a talkative plus one?”

“An oath.”

“I have to swear an oath?”

She nods, eyes widening.

“And what happens if a guest breaks that oath?”

“I guess you’ll take a swim… with the fishes.”

~

Dressed in soft, pink leggings and an oversized shirt, I pour myself a glass of well-deserved wine. I’m starting to feel more at home in my new apartment, but there’s still something missing. I can’t say for sure that it’s male company I’m missing because Shawn has been absent for so long, I’m used to my alone time. But it simply feels strange knowing no one and nothing will be walking through the front door except me. Sitting on my new sofa, I decide to give Samantha one last shot. One last chance to spill the beans before I action the pre-requisites.

Setting my number to invisible, I dial Samantha and wait, counting the rings. The first call goes to voicemail, and I decide not to leave a message. Dialling again, I count five rings before she finally answers.

“Sam speaking,” she greets, indifferently.

“So, you’ll answer your phone to an unknown number but not to your sister?”

I’m met with silence and I wonder briefly if she’s going to hang up.

“Blythe, is that you? Your number didn’t show. Is everything okay?” There’s no sincerity in her voice, which tells me she’s still wanting to keep her distance.

“My number didn’t show for a reason, because you’ve ignored my calls for the millionth time. I’m okay, but I miss my sister and I want to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m always fine.” She laughs but it’s a nervous sound.

“Look…” I say, deciding to take the gentle approach, “I’m sorry if I’ve said something to upset you. That was never my intention. I thought we had a great time when you took me out to Othello’s, but I haven’t heard from you since, and I’ve been wracking my brain wondering what’s happened to have you distance yourself from me so much that you won’t reply to my calls or messages.”

“Sis, I’m sorry,” she says, sincerity making a return. “I never meant to distance you. I guess I’ve just become absorbed in my work.”

Maybe that’s true, but I can’t shake the multiple images of her deliberately ignoring my communication attempts.

“How is work?” I concede to still play nice.

“Good. How’s things at Blythe Industries?”

“Good. What is it you said you do again?”

“Um… sales. I work in sales. Taken on any big-name clients recently?”

“What is it exactly you’re selling? Is it something I can buy, maybe increase your commission?”

“I don’t think you’d be interested. Have you seen Shawn recently? Are you getting back together?” She’s becoming a master at avoiding my questions and redirecting the focus.

“No. Do they make you wear a uniform? I know you hate how those starchy shirts feel on your skin.”

She laughs nervously. “Yeah, the uniforms are expectedly disgusting.”

Her lies hit me like a freight train. Up until her last response, her answers could have passed for some truth, but she doesn’t wear a uniform to work, that much I know. If looking like a supermodel just off the runway is ‘expectedly disgusting,’ then everything she’s said to me is a lie.

“Perhaps we can catch up during the week, have dinner at Bianco’s,” I suggest, baiting her into telling the truth for once which she takes hook, line, and sinker.

“You know I’d love to, but I work nights, so that won’t happen unless my boss gives me a random night off. In which case we can go to Othello’s again.”

The same place she handed out her business cards.

Why there?

Why not somewhere else?

“Okay, Sam. That sounds good.”

“Great. Look, sis, I gotta go. I’m due at work any minute.”

“Well… just remember I love you, and if you ever need anything, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Blythe,” she says before hanging up.

Annoyed at her one-word replies followed by her incessant changing of focus, I take three long gulps of wine, deciding that tomorrow I will organize my police check and get to the bottom of Samantha’s lies once and for all. Maybe then, we can move forward with our relationship.

My next task is an even greater pill to swallow. I need to inform Shawn that the lawyers have requested a mediation meeting. It’s not something I was all-for at first, still pissed at discovering he wasted a year, possibly more, of my life, but my attorney said it will work in my favor if I attend without qualm.

Opting out of calling, I reset my number and open a new message and begin typing details for the mediation. Pressing send, I gulp down more