“I insisted. I told them that I couldn’t leave you when you were having a heart attack.”
My eyes shoot open, and I look into hers. “I had a heart attack?!”
She shakes her head, making her little brown curls bounce a bit. “Naw, you just fainted. But I played up the fear some. Moaning about how I was so sacred that my mom was having a heart attack. That way, the EMTs would let me come to the hospital with you.”
Her mom? What the fuck?
Knowing that my right hand is held down by the IV, I try to cover my eyes with my left hand. It hurts badly when I move it and is covered by a large, plush bandage that brushes into my forehead like a pillow.
“What the fuck?!” I repeat, slightly louder than before. Ms. Chatterbox snorts in disgust. I turn and glare at her and then look over the bandage covering my hand. Each finger is wrapped tightly. The whole thing’s very bulky and unattractive. Unable to process that, I turn back to the girl. “Look…”
“Myah,” she supplies, helpfully pointing to herself like I don’t speak English.
I roll my eyes. “Look, Myah. I’m not sure what is going on here. But I can assure you that I’m not your mother.”
Myah grunts. She rolls her eyes and sits back in her chair so she can fold her legs in front of her. It’s a position I used to sit in a lot when I was her age.
“Of course, you’re not my mother. I just wanted to get off the plane and coming with you seemed the quickest way.”
It’s like a bad dream, well, maybe not a nightmare, but definitely weird. I can’t fathom why this child is with me, but between the pounding head and the bandaged hand, I’m starting to not care. At this moment, all I want is to get some sleep.
Determined to do just that, I roll over, putting my back to the girl, and pull the blankets up. However, try as I might, I can’t rest. Something I’ve forgotten is nagging at my brain.
I raise my head slightly off the pillow. “Is someone coming to get you?” I ask, my unwanted companion.
“Yes,” she mutters. There is a hitch in her voice that tells me it’s a lie, but I don’t want to hear that, so I ignore it and settle in to get some sleep.
My attempt is short-lived. Myah finds the remote for the TV and turns it on to some horrid reality TV show. I could have slept through that, but my cell phone rings a few minutes later.
“Where’s my purse?” I shriek, sitting up in the bed quickly.
Myah jumps as well, but helpfully she gets up to grab my purse from a table at the end of the bed and hands it up to me.
I pull out my phone and see that it’s my boss calling. The sense of dread gets worse, and then it all comes back to me in a flash. I’m supposed to be meeting with our possible contractor at the Pentagon.
Kane starts talking before I can even say hello. “Sloane, we have a problem. Are you on your way to the meeting yet?”
I look down at my blanket-covered body in the hospital bed. “No, not quite,” I kind of lie. I’m not sure when they are going to let me out, but hopefully, I will still be able to make it on time.
“Okay,” Kane replies. “That’s fine. It looks like we are going to have to reschedule. General Lewis called, and he’s having a family problem. Hopefully this will be short lived, but in the meantime, perhaps you can get into see one of his assistants.”
As Kane goes on and on about how he wants me to butter-up the assistants, I turn to look at the twelve-year-old sitting next to me. Myah has gotten a journal out of her backpack and is doodling flowers all over a page. She has both earbuds in and seems to be politely ignoring my conversation. Hopefully she will be gone soon.
Maybe I can get to the Pentagon and fix everything for McKenzie Tech. This day doesn’t need to be a total failure.
“Hold on, Kane.” I put a hand over my phone and nudge Myah. She looks up at me. “Do you know how far away we are from the Pentagon?” I ask her.
She snorts slightly. “Over a thousand miles, I expect.”
Before I can ask her what she means, there’s a knock at the door. Both Myah and I look up to see the only man I specifically don’t want to see. I really need to change my emergency contact information.
“Who the fuck are you?” Holding a slim flower bouquet and wearing a perfectly tailored tan suit, my father glares at Myah.
Myah glares right back. “I’m her daughter, weirdo. Stop cussing.” She sticks out her tongue slightly. “And there is no way you are making me leave. What are you with the insurance company or something?”