Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Jonas and Josh exchange a look of extreme anxiety.
“Holy shitballs,” I say softly, even though, honestly, I’m still not one hundred percent sure I get it. Whatever’s happening, though, it’s obviously holy-shitballs-worthy.
“Yeah, most definitely,” Henn says. “Well said.”
“We’ve got to find out who Mr. Bigwig VIP is,” Jonas blurts. “We need to know who all the heavy hitters are. You said congressmen are involved in this shit, right?”
“Yup,” Henn says.
“That could be really, really bad,” Josh says, his body stiff and tight next to mine. His face looks ashen.
“Seriously. ‘Oh, hi, constituents. Please re-elect me,’” Henn says, putting on his best congressman-voice. “‘I added more police to our streets, got a library built, and voted to increase the minimum wage. Oh, and I paid a whole bunch of money to a Ukrainian prostitution and weapons ring to fund the reunification of the Soviet Union. Can I count on your vote during the next election?’”
Oooooh, I totally get it now. Leave it to Henn to explain things in terms I can easily understand. Ooph. Holy shitballs, indeed. This is a big deal.
“This is too big for us to handle on our own,” Sarah declares emphatically. “We’ve got to hand this over to the FBI.” Her eyes widen. “Or the CIA? I don’t even know which one. I mean, jeez, I’m a first-year law student at U Dub.” She shakes her head. “This is like, a matter of international significance—and that’s not even an exaggeration.”
Henn talks for a while, explaining how he plans to obtain the bad guys’ passwords and banking information, all with the goal of uncovering data we can use to convince the good guys to take immediate action—and, suddenly, I feel like a round hole in a square peg. What the heckity-heck am I doing here? How can I possibly help with all this? I know what value everyone else in this room brings to our Ocean’s Eleven crew, but what on earth is my role?
When Henn finishes talking, Sarah leaps out of her chair like a woman possessed.
“Henn, I’m your new best friend,” she says.
She explains she’s gonna write a kick-ass report with supporting documentation which we’ll submit to the authorities and we all agree enthusiastically with her plan.
“Kat,” Sarah says sharply at the end of her passionate speech, her eyes like lasers.
“Yes, ma’am.” My heart’s beating out of my chest. My brain is in overload. I keep thinking “Holy shitballs” on an endless loop.
“For each and every criminal count, I’m gonna need a piece of supporting evidence—something to show them we’re not making this stuff up,” Sarah says, looking at me. She’s in full ass-kicking mode now. “I’ll tell you exactly what kind of thing I’m looking for, and then you’ll go digging through whatever Henn’s been able to find so far to get it for me. You’ll be my research assistant.”
“I can do that,” I say, my stomach churning. But what I’m thinking is, “Holy shitballs.”
“That’s good,” Jonas says. “And Josh and I will powwow and figure out our best strategy for the hand-off. I agree—we’re going to have to turn this over to someone—but to whom? That’s the question. If we put it in the wrong hands, we might just buy ourselves an even bigger enemy than The Club.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, the hairs on my arms standing up.
“It sounds like there are plenty of powerful people on that client list who wouldn’t want this scandal to see the light of day,” Jonas says.
Josh puts his arm around my shoulders and I lean into him, shaking. This whole thing is making my head spin and my stomach churn. “Holy shitballs,” I say under my breath.
“It’s all gonna come down to the money,” Jonas says. “Money talks.”
“I agree,” Josh says, pulling me into him.
“Henn, that’s top priority, okay?” Jonas says. “Track the money. Get access to it.”
“Roger,” Henn says. “Shouldn’t take me more than a couple days.”
“We can do this,” Sarah says. “Look at the talent in this room. We don’t need no stinkin’ George Clooney and Brad Pitt and Matt Damon.”
“Yeah, but I sure wish we had that Chinese acrobat guy,” Henn says. “He was cool.”
Finally, someone in this room who speaks my freaking language.
“The one they stuffed into the little box?” I ask. “I loved him.”
Henn beams a smile at me that instantly calms my raging nerves. “Yeah, he was rad.”
“Yen. Wasn’t that his name?”
“Oh yeah. Good memory, Kat.” He taps his temple. “Brains and beauty.”
I return his beaming smile. Thank God for Henny.
“Hey, guys, sorry to interrupt your profound musings, but I’m kind of getting tunnel vision here,” Sarah says. “There’s a lot to do and I wanna get started right away.”
“Sure thing,” I say (even though I’m thinking “holy shitballs”). “Whatever you need, boss.”
“Hey, Sarah,” Henn says. “One more thing. What do you wanna do about Dr. Evil’s text to you?”