Total pages in book: 166
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169305 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 847(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Of course, I had to go.
How expectedly thorough of my mother.
A commercial flight would add another two hours each way. Four if it included a short layover.
I raised my phone back to my ear. “Natalie.”
“Yes?”
“Book me a flight to Chiang Mai. The earliest available.”
“On Christmas Day? That’s going to be a mission.” She was already clicking away on her computer. “The earliest one doesn’t have any business seats left. Just economy.”
“Book it.”
An audible gasp penetrated my ear from the other line. Was I really that far removed from general society?
“Are you sure?”
“I am positive,” I answered in the exact same tone.
“Okay. Booking right now.”
“Thank you. Oh, and Natalie?”
“Yes, Mr. Sun?”
“This is your notice that you’ve been fired. Your two weeks start now.”
“You can’t do this to me.” She screeched, not even asking why. Blissfully unaware that she had breezed by the past few weeks, lucky I was too fucked up to remember to fire her.
“I can. You tried to steal my sperm.”
“Unsuccessfull—” But she didn’t get to finish her sentence.
“Merry fucking Christmas. Don’t come back to work.”
T-MINUS 3 DAYS.
Ollie vB:
I have tea.
Romeo Costa:
No, thank you.
Romeo Costa:
I decline any type of liquid you might be offering to me on the grounds that it is probably gross.
Ollie vB:
Tea as in gossip.
Ollie vB:
Your Southern wife would be so ashamed of you right now.
Romeo Costa:
What’s the scoop?
Ollie vB:
Our good friend Zachary was spotted by a B-grade socialite sailing through BWI wheeling a trolley behind him like some commoner without his own private plane.
Romeo Costa:
Are you sure it was Zach?
Romeo Costa:
Because he is about as down to Earth as Neptune.
Ollie vB:
She took pictures.
Zach Sun:
That’s not creepy at all.
Romeo Costa:
@ZachSun, do you confirm this report by Mr. von Buttered Bun?
Zach Sun:
My mother stole my airplane.
Ollie vB:
[Okay Hand Emoji] That is actually the best homework excuse I’ve ever heard.
Romeo Costa:
Are you currently INSIDE a commercial plane?
Zach Sun:
Unfortunately.
Ollie vB:
When was the last time that happened?
Zach Sun:
First grade.
Ollie vB:
My God, what is it like?
Ollie vB:
Tell us everything.
Ollie vB:
I’ve seen a few in movies, but I’ve never actually been on one.
Zach Sun:
Busy. Loud.
Zach Sun:
Food smells like it has been previously digested by an elderly family dog and vomited onto your plate.
Ollie vB:
I think I just died a little inside just from reading this.
Ollie vB:
How is business class?
Ollie vB:
Is it like glamping?
Zach Sun:
There were no business-class tickets left.
Zach Sun:
I’m flying coach.
Ollie vB:
You’re fucking with us.
Romeo Costa:
Please, Ollie. No one is getting anywhere near your dick without a hazmat suit.
Zach Sun sent an attachment.
Ollie vB:
Sweet Jesus. He really is flying coach.
Zach Sun:
It’s a connecting flight, too.
Romeo Costa:
@ZachSun, care to tell us what and where was so urgent?
Romeo Costa:
We’re on pins and needles.
Zach Sun:
Thailand, to pry Eileen’s location from my mother and aunt.
Romeo Costa:
They’re both going to kill you.
Zach Sun:
I am well aware.
Ollie vB:
If they do, can I have the cryochamber?
Ollie vB:
This particular model is out of stock.
Romeo Costa:
Since you’ve been MIA all month, I’m asking here…
Romeo Costa:
What made you realize you can’t follow through with the wedding?
Zach Sun:
Farrow.
Ollie vB:
What about the cryochamber? Is that a no?
Romeo Costa:
Fight for her, bro. She’s worth it.
Zach Sun:
I am.
Zach Sun:
And I know.
Ollie vB:
Guess I’ll have to drag it home myself after your mother throws you into the Mekong River, sans floatie.
Romeo Costa:
Good to know something managed to get its way into your heart.
Zach Sun:
She’s not just in my heart.
Zach Sun:
She’s in my fucking veins.
T-MINUS 3 DAYS.
Inever expected people to bend to my will.
All my life, my peers naturally did it, as if I’d issued an unbreakable command merely by existing.
After the accident, when Mom changed, I considered her one-eighty the universe’s way of counterbalancing a blessed life.
Until now.
As everything went to shit.
And no one seemed to care about a goddamn thing I said.
I stalked into the four-bedroomed grand pool villa, swatting away the residential assistant Mom had hired for the duration of her stay at the Four Seasons Chiang Mai. “Where are they?”
She floundered, torn between chasing after me and running for help. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. Sun Yu Wen and Zhao Yu Ting. What room?”
My loafers pounded the dark hardwood. Straight to the open balcony door overlooking the private sundeck.
A wall of lotuses and lush tropical trees obscured the rectangular pool from view. Celeste Ayi sprawled across an oversized canopy bed.
A sunhat with a brim wide enough to umbrella an entire building hid her face. She sipped a tropical cocktail, turning a page of the Vogue in her lap.
I descended one of the double stairs from the balcony, stopping a foot shy of her. The assistant raced after me, but I was taller, faster, and fueled by enough fury to last a lifetime.
“Zhao Yu Ting.”
She peered up from the magazine, not even remotely surprised to see me. “Zachary. My favorite nephew.”
“Your only nephew.”
She waved her hand, flipping a page. “Don’t remind me. You know I love the variety. How was the flight here?”