Page 75 of The First Gentleman

CHAPTER 71

Brooklyn, New York

M y iPhone chimes with an incoming text.

I look down.

Sorry to hear about Garrett’s death.

A Brother

I’ve been getting condolence calls and texts all week from everyone I know.

Even Burton Pearce expressed his sympathies.

I was touched by the outpouring of messages.

This one pisses me off.

I sit down on my bed and text back:

Who is this, you son of a bitch?

So far, this has been a one-way communication.

I’ve never responded until now.

I don’t know what to expect.

Within seconds, there’s a reply.

You’re still in danger.

Suzanne. Amber. Garrett.

You could be next.

A warning or a threat?

Either way, I’m over it.

No more texting. Meet me in person.

I send it and wait. My head is throbbing, and my heart is pounding.

This better be good.

It is.

Grand Central.

Today, 3 p.m., the information booth clock.

Alone.

I throw open my bedroom door and stomp into the kitchen.

“Mama, I changed my mind.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m going back to work.”

“You mean teaching?”

“No. I mean the book. I’m going to finish it myself.”