Chapter 2
John Falconer alternated between trying to calm his breathing and pacing round his apartment to try to use up some of his nervous energy.
The quiet, compact space reflected his intense need to keep his room back at his parents’ house neat and tidy. But right now he wished for a jumbled mess to clean up to give him something to do.
He wished for time enough to get to a shop and try to find something more acceptable than a black pair of pants and a dark green button up shirt that his mother said at least brought out his eyes.
He wished more than anything else that he’d brought a kilt or something even remotely formal with him. His closets and drawers were full of neatly folded or hung jeans and t-shirts and a few button up shirts here and there.
He despised suits and ties, so
