Malone
“Do you have any bags, ma’am?” the taxi driver asks as he picks me up outside the Birmingham-Shuttlesworth International Airport.
“No, nothing.” I shake my head, wiping the tears that just won’t stop coming from under my eyes. “I just need to go to this address.” I fire off the address I didn’t get the first time I was here. The one I blatantly stole from my boss at the charity.
The man gives me a double-take, like he knows where he’s taking me, wondering if I know where I’m going. “Here?”
“There,” I confirm.
As I sit in the back of the Uber, I continue to text Slade, telling him yes, over and over again. Letting him know I’m coming, asking him to please allow me five minutes. I have no idea what’s going to happen once I get there, I’ll need his permission to get to the penthouse floor. While I can see he’s read every single one of them, he’s yet to respond to any.