Chapters (54)
- Cover
- Epigraph
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Epilogue
- A Note from the Author
- Discussion Questions
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Acclaim for David Rawlings
- Also by David Rawlings
“I have to take this. It’s Kelly. Enjoy your evening.”
Monique sagged into a frown and turned on her heel. Thankfully.
Daniel threw back his head and exhaled hard as he picked up the call. “Hi, Kel.”
There was a moment in space, a silence and hesitation. And then a flat voice. “Are you on your way home yet? I need to talk to you about work today.”
Daniel stared at the blinking cursor on his screen. “I’m about to leave. Just finishing up a few things.”
Another moment of silence, pregnant with an unasked question. “Are there a few of you working late on something?” A pointed reference veiled under a direct question.
“There’s no need to be like that.” He heard the front door to the practice close after Monique. “I’m the only one here, just getting through some financial stuff and writing the new book.”
Another moment of silence.
“Look, I’ll be home soon. Would you like me to pick up some noodles from around the corner?”
He heard her sigh down the phone line. “We’ve already eaten.”
“I’m just leaving now. I’ll be home in about thirty minutes.”
“Dinner is in the microwave.” She cut the call.
Daniel’s eyes returned to the flashing, accusing cursor that stood between him and the fulfillment of his book contract. He had no idea where the words would come from. He lowered the lid on his laptop as he checked off the battles he was fighting with a wife who didn’t believe he was doing nothing wrong and a receptionist who couldn’t believe he wouldn’t.
Eight
Kelly stomped out of the clinic into spitting rain and ran for the parking lot, powered by a cocktail of emotions: simmering anger and numbing fear. It wasn’t just the doctors complaining about the quality of their free lunch. It was more than the barbs about golf clubs needing an upgrade.
She flung her bag of Mendacium samples into the backseat and slammed the door shut as a curtain of rain fluttered across her windshield.
She was the second Rubicon Pharma rep who’d visited that day. And based on the drooling description of the young intern who asked Kelly if she could get hold of a phone number, she knew who’d been there.
The blonde from the stage. The new staff weren’t in her rearview mirror; they were cutting her off in traffic and threatening to steal her car.