16: He's a Belieber

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A/N:Okay, this one is for AliceOtter who was suceptible enough to guilt tripping that she read my whole story! And now she is the second sibling of mine who loves me enough to have read this. Just kidding. I know that if she weren't a sleep deprived, over worked, maniac she would have read it sooner. Así es. And if she ever decides to share her work, I suggest everybody on the planet go read it. She puts my paltry prose to shame. Love you sis!

Also: I've been meaning to experiment on putting a blip from the end of the last chapter on the beginning of the new chapter so you can remember where we are in the story. Do you like it? Or is it distracting. If you don't tell me to keep doing it then I will assume you don't care. Does anybody read this? I am obsessed with heffalumps and woozles, and I dress up as a pink, plaid version of Winnie the Pooh every night while I rock out to Michael Jackson. Just checking.

Just as I made it to the bathroom door my phone buzzed again. I took a deep breath as I stepped into a stall and perched on the toilet lid. I so wasn’t ready to face Anton.

“What do you want, Anton?” I asked, not having energy to waste on civility. I was still trying to stop my leaky tear ducts.

“You answered.”

“You said you’d only call me in case of emergency. This better be one.”

Ant seemed too stunned for words for a moment. Okay, I was being a little less friendly than I had been yesterday when I’d had no doubts that he was here to save the day.

“Um, well,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “yes, it is.”

Chapter 16: He’s a Belieber

“And what emergency might that be?”

“Well, first, you should know that I planted the cameras Igor left us. In your house.”

“What are you—” he cut me off as I wound up for a rant.

“Because we told him to tell Boss that he planted them successfully, and he would get suspicious if he wasn’t getting a feed—” I cut him off this time.

“Why did you tell him to say that then?”

“Because if he failed, he would just get sent back to try again, or somebody else would. The Boss wants to keep an eye on you. So let him. Just don’t give him anything to be suspicious about.”

“So you want me to just act like I’m not being video stalked by the mafia? And where did you put the cameras anyway? And this doesn’t count as an emergency in my book, by the way.”

I prayed that he hadn’t placed any in my room, thinking of all the things I did in there last night…like walking around in my underwear: okay, dancing in my underwear.

“I put one on each of the two main exits of the house, the front door and the door to the garage. Don’t leave the house carrying anything that might make it look like you are leaving the house for more than a few hours, no bags bigger than a backpack.”

“What was the point of me kicking his butt, and you getting in his face, if you were just going to finish his work for him?!” I asked in an acerbic tone.   

“What’s your problem today? I’m helping you, in case you forgot.”

“How should I know if you’re really helping me? Maybe you’re just trying to get me to trust you so that…so that…I don’t know, you get inside information or something.”

“Wow. I don’t know where you would get that idea, but thanks. Thanks a lot. Are you always this big of a b—” I cut him off.     

“Why did you decide to help me anyway? Just a big fan, right?”

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