My head snaps up. “What?”
“Why did you go with a rendition of the Joker?”
She’s not gonna let this go.
Okay. Fine. She asked for it.
“Because despite what my little brother might have thought, I’m not a fucking Dark Knight ready to sacrifice myself for the greater good, Lana. That’s why.”
Straightforward enough for you?
“Aren’t you, though?” She says it like she knows something I don’t know. Only she doesn’t know shit about me. Not anymore.
“No.” I hear the defensiveness in my voice and settle the fuck down. Meanwhile, Lana gives me a soft nod and stays quiet for a minute or so. This is doctor code for go on. Only I have nowhere to go from here.
I check my watch. It has to have been an hour by now. My watch, however, is telling me it’s only been fifteen minutes.
This is bullshit.
“Look,” she offers. “You’re here. You may as well tell me something. Did you reach out to your mother this week like I suggested?”
I shake my head. “Didn’t have time.”
Sixteen minutes.
Seriously?
“Story of your life, right?” She smirks for the first time today, and I relax a little into my chair.
“Damn straight.” I look her dead in the eyes when I answer her. My to-do list grows every day, and with me trying to solve the murder of a possible innocent these days, there’s not much room for casual conversation and kicking back at the old homestead.
“Why do you think you make your mother pay for the problems you and your father are having?”
“What the fuck kinda question is that?”
“A fair one.”
“I love my mother. She knows that.”
“Does she? When was the last time you told her?”
“I haven’t said that shit since I was ten, Lana.”
“Actions speak louder than words.”
“Exactly.” Damn, my fucking eyebrow itches like a boss right now.
“And what have your actions been saying lately?”
“They…”
Son of a bitch.
I hate it when she does that shit.
“Fuck you.”
She smiles. She knows she got one over on me.
She’s shameless.
The rest of the hour goes on, slightly less tense than how it started. Before I know it, she’s wrapping up.
“I want you to do me a favor, Jackson.” She pulls out a pad of paper and picks up one of her sharp ass pencils.
“Here we go.”
She begins to write but doesn’t say anything else. She hands me the piece of paper and waits for me to say something.
I say something, all right. “I don’t fucking think so.” I try to hand it back to her but she refuses it.
“Just try it.”
“Why?”
“You tell me next time.”
Next time.
She’ll be lucky if I step another foot inside this hellhole again. Ever.
I huff. Frustrated. I crumple up the piece of paper then stand and grab my jacket.
“I’m done.”
“For today. Lucky for you, I have someone coming in about five minutes.” She pushes up onto her feet as well, and I head for the door. I open it and salute the receptionist as I rush to the front door, but I’ve got no winks left for the day.
“See you in a week, Mr. Stiles.” Lana moves next to her assistant as she bids me a professional fucking wave goodbye, and just like that, we’re back to the formalities.
If I was in any worse of a mood, I’d call her ass out. Then again, maybe her assistant doesn’t like her, and maybe she’ll call the big man in charge to let him know there’s a conflict of interest here. That thought alone is enough to keep my big mouth shut.
I like to stick with the devil I know personally, and besides, that would make me a dick.
Okay, maybe a bigger dick than I already am.
So I leave without so much as rolling my eyes. When I get back to the car, there’s a present waiting for me.
My favorite snack, taped to the driver's side window, tells me one thing, and one thing only.
Lilah’s here.
I take a look around. It doesn’t take long to spot her─ exactly one hundred and one feet away.
She waves, excitedly at first, but then thinks better of it. The innocent yet slightly off-balance girl ducks behind the side of a storefront, then peeks around the corner again.
I’m still here, Lilah.
Unfortunately.
I wave to her to let her know I see her. I pull the candy bar off the window and slide into the Chevelle so there’s no misunderstanding here. This isn’t okay.
I eat the Twix after giving it a good once over. I’m not a fucking idiot.
On the way back home, I try to drown out what Lana said back at her office. I want to forget about the fact that my one-time best friend from high school thinks she still knows what makes me tick. However, that piece of paper in my pocket is making the loudest noise of all inside my head.
At a stop light, I take it out and read it again.
Tell someone “thank you” today, and mean it.
Mean it is not just underlined, it’s double underlined.
What the fuck does that even mean?