Losing Control
““Two deliveries on the West Side,” Sandra orders. I pick up my radio control unit and shove my phone in my backpack. “By the way, Neil is going through some hormonal crisis. If you’re late again or miss another day, he’s going to fire you.”
My heart thuds heavily but I manage to give her a nod of acknowledgment. “Thanks.”
I work extra hard that night to make sure my deliveries go without a hitch. I wonder where Ian’s company is. I don’t remember delivering anything to a Kerr office.
... My phone stays mostly silent, which is rare because I usually field at least one phone call from my mother during my early evening runs. She doesn’t like that I do them because she’s convinced someone is going to hurt me. I tell her that there’s more traffic in midday Manhattan and, therefore, a greater likelihood of getting hit by a bus or taxi in the sunlit hours than at night. She’s my mom, though, and part of her job is to worry over me.MoreLess
My heart thuds heavily but I manage to give her a nod of acknowledgment. “Thanks.”
I work extra hard that night to make sure my deliveries go without a hitch. I wonder where Ian’s company is. I don’t remember delivering anything to a Kerr office.
... My phone stays mostly silent, which is rare because I usually field at least one phone call from my mother during my early evening runs. She doesn’t like that I do them because she’s convinced someone is going to hurt me. I tell her that there’s more traffic in midday Manhattan and, therefore, a greater likelihood of getting hit by a bus or taxi in the sunlit hours than at night. She’s my mom, though, and part of her job is to worry over me.MoreLess
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