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CHAPTER THIRTEEN:NINA GETS FIRED

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
NINA GETS FIRED

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When she tells Edelstein about the FBI freezing her accounts, he most certainly does not react in the way she expects. Sat across the chess board in the park, dimly lit by a streetlight hanging above them, he shrugs, moves one of his white knights, and says, "Well, what did you expect?"

"What did I expect--"

"Oh, don't lecture me, Nina," he interrupts, raising a hand tiredly. He's in his black suit and tie -- usual work attire. He looks exhausted -- or maybe he's just bored. Bored of her.

They've not been the best of friends recently.

"Y'know, this is a bad time for your advice centre to close," she retorts. "All your critiques of my other life decisions -- and this is the one you don't have an opinion on?"

"Oh, I do have an opinion, and it's that you were an idiot. It's your move."

He moves the subject back to their chess game quickly, knowing that she won't take the insult lightly -- even though it's from him -- and it's best to pretend he didn't even say it. It's a smart move -- and it works.

Nina purses her lips for a moment, and then moves. "Check," she announces idly, then turns the topic back to her more important priorities, knowing that he'll easily avoid checkmate (partly because he's a good player, and partly because she isn't really paying attention to the board). "What do you suppose I do?"

He reaches next to him, and Nina leans a little to her right, watching as he slides over to her side of the table a leather briefcase, reflecting the yellow glow of the street lamps. "Thirty-thousand, cash."

"Cash like that'll get me set up in London, or Mexico, or Paris," she agrees. "But then what?"

He shrugs, moving his piece. "Life. Cool apartment, new friends, normal job. A fresh start."

"After everything I've done, there's no such thing as a fresh start," she retorts. And, even if she won't admit it out loud (at least not in front of him, but maybe to herself in the mirror), if there is such a thing, she does not want it. This is the life, the existence, she likes.

"Don't be so pessimistic," he replies coolly. "What else is there to do? What else can you do except run?"

"Die?"

He ignores her. "You're on borrowed time."

He says it like she doesn't already know that well enough herself. With a sudden burst of anger, swelling like molten lava in her chest, Nina swallows hard, moving her piece and knocking his final pawn with such vigour that it flings right off the table. "I've always been on borrowed time," she says harshly.

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