Chelle
“What’s the latest with Zane?” Shanna, my bestie, is on my couch drinking a mimosa. We don’t get much time to just chill together since I work days and she works nights. I hang out at The Red Room on Wednesdays when she works happy hour instead of the late shift, and about once a month, we do Sunday brunch at my house. A late afternoon one since she sleeps until noon.
This past Wednesday, I’d told her the whole saga of finding Zane beat up and going to meet with the Russians to make a deal.
“He offered up his motorcycle to Nikolai on Friday. I haven’t heard anything since. I guess I should text to make sure he’s still alive.” I say it, but I don’t make any move to grab my phone. Zane was right when he said he’s of no use to them dead. If he brought his motorcycle to them, I’m sur
