attack was a random mugging.” Also true (because that’s what I ledthem to believe). “Hopefully, this information will lead to something helpful for the investigation.” Also true—but helpful to whom and for what investigation I’m not exactly sure.
“Okay, just be careful,” Georgia says.
After thanking Georgia profusely and assuring her I’d be careful, we say our goodbyes—and then I sit and ponder the situation for a moment. Twelve Oksanas? How am I going to find the right one? Knock on each Oksana’s door and say, “Hi! Are you the Oksana who tried to kill me?”
It looks like my strongest play right now is buying myself time. What else can I do? I need time to figure out what to do next and that money I gave them isn’t going to protect me forever. I open my laptop and continue typing my reply:
“I sincerely regret any discomfort caused by our ‘unfortunate miscommunication,’ too—seeing as how it left me dying in a puddle of my own blood on a bathroom floor. To answer your question, I haven’t submitted my report to anyone yet, though it took a Herculean effort to stop it from automatically releasing to several agencies, as I’d previously arranged. Luckily, I was able to put the brakes on things at the last minute this time, but I won’t be able to stop its widespread and immediate dissemination next time—nor will I even try. So there better not be a next time. ”
I stop for a moment and consider deleting that last sentence. It’s pretty ballsy. Eh, screw it. I’ll just go balls to the walls—big risk, big reward, just like Jonas always says.
I continue typing:
“Thank you for your interest in my business proposal. I look forward to finalizing our arrangement, too. A fifty-fifty split is what I’m willing to do. Yes, you supply the clients, but I’m the one who’s going to make them pay up. You can lead a horse to your watering hole all you like, but it’s me who’s going to make him slurp up gallons and gallons of water. In fact, I’ve recently learned I’m uniquely talented at making horses drink. Fifty-fifty. Take it or leave it, people. But be advised: If you decide to ‘leave it,’ my report goes live—no second chances. I’m done fucking around.
“The emergency room doctors I’ve recently visited, thanks to you—did I mention our ‘unfortunate miscommunication’ left me bleeding out on a bathroom floor?—have told me to take a solid two weeks strict bed rest to recuperate from my injuries. When my health returns and I’m able to walk, let alone ridethe horses you plan on bringing to our mutual watering hole , I will let you know. I want this new venture to be a success as much as you do, I assure you—our interests are completely aligned—but I’m only human after all, and having a stab wound on my torso and staples in my head isn’t all that conducive to sexy time.
“Sincerely,
“Your Faithful Intake Agent, Sarah Cruz
“P.S. By the way, I’ve described our recent ‘unfortunate miscommunication’ to the police as a random mugging. (I’m not fucking stupid.)”
Before I can change my mind, I press send.
Holy crappola. What am I doing? I’m insane. I’m not James Bond. I’m not a superhero. I can call myself Orgasma the All-Powerful all I like, but I’m still just me. A girl made of flesh and bones—and blood , as my body so recently proved in spades. I don’t know what the heck I think I’m doing. Damn. I need help. I need Jonas.
Or maybe I should throw in the towel and just call the FBI already? If that means I won’t pass the ethics review for my law license, then I guess I’ll just have to live with that. But I don’t want to give up on my legal career. Tears rise up in my eyes. I’ve worked too hard to get here. My mother is counting on me and so are the countless women my mom helps. I can’t let them down. I’ve got to figure this out. I wipe my eyes.
I need Jonas.
I have a stomachache.
I need Jonas.
Jonas.
“Okay, just be careful,” Georgia says.
After thanking Georgia profusely and assuring her I’d be careful, we say our goodbyes—and then I sit and ponder the situation for a moment. Twelve Oksanas? How am I going to find the right one? Knock on each Oksana’s door and say, “Hi! Are you the Oksana who tried to kill me?”
It looks like my strongest play right now is buying myself time. What else can I do? I need time to figure out what to do next and that money I gave them isn’t going to protect me forever. I open my laptop and continue typing my reply:
“I sincerely regret any discomfort caused by our ‘unfortunate miscommunication,’ too—seeing as how it left me dying in a puddle of my own blood on a bathroom floor. To answer your question, I haven’t submitted my report to anyone yet, though it took a Herculean effort to stop it from automatically releasing to several agencies, as I’d previously arranged. Luckily, I was able to put the brakes on things at the last minute this time, but I won’t be able to stop its widespread and immediate dissemination next time—nor will I even try. So there better not be a next time. ”
I stop for a moment and consider deleting that last sentence. It’s pretty ballsy. Eh, screw it. I’ll just go balls to the walls—big risk, big reward, just like Jonas always says.
I continue typing:
“Thank you for your interest in my business proposal. I look forward to finalizing our arrangement, too. A fifty-fifty split is what I’m willing to do. Yes, you supply the clients, but I’m the one who’s going to make them pay up. You can lead a horse to your watering hole all you like, but it’s me who’s going to make him slurp up gallons and gallons of water. In fact, I’ve recently learned I’m uniquely talented at making horses drink. Fifty-fifty. Take it or leave it, people. But be advised: If you decide to ‘leave it,’ my report goes live—no second chances. I’m done fucking around.
“The emergency room doctors I’ve recently visited, thanks to you—did I mention our ‘unfortunate miscommunication’ left me bleeding out on a bathroom floor?—have told me to take a solid two weeks strict bed rest to recuperate from my injuries. When my health returns and I’m able to walk, let alone ridethe horses you plan on bringing to our mutual watering hole , I will let you know. I want this new venture to be a success as much as you do, I assure you—our interests are completely aligned—but I’m only human after all, and having a stab wound on my torso and staples in my head isn’t all that conducive to sexy time.
“Sincerely,
“Your Faithful Intake Agent, Sarah Cruz
“P.S. By the way, I’ve described our recent ‘unfortunate miscommunication’ to the police as a random mugging. (I’m not fucking stupid.)”
Before I can change my mind, I press send.
Holy crappola. What am I doing? I’m insane. I’m not James Bond. I’m not a superhero. I can call myself Orgasma the All-Powerful all I like, but I’m still just me. A girl made of flesh and bones—and blood , as my body so recently proved in spades. I don’t know what the heck I think I’m doing. Damn. I need help. I need Jonas.
Or maybe I should throw in the towel and just call the FBI already? If that means I won’t pass the ethics review for my law license, then I guess I’ll just have to live with that. But I don’t want to give up on my legal career. Tears rise up in my eyes. I’ve worked too hard to get here. My mother is counting on me and so are the countless women my mom helps. I can’t let them down. I’ve got to figure this out. I wipe my eyes.
I need Jonas.
I have a stomachache.
I need Jonas.
Jonas.
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