Chapter Eight
Christopher tugs me into a small office away from the main meeting area and slams the door behind him. The room smells like paint and freshly lain carpet, a single desk and chair are against the wall across from the door. I toss my clutch onto the desk and look around.
“Disappointed there’s nothing in here you can throw at me?” Christopher asks.
“Don’t underestimate me. That desk probably isn’t as heavy as it looks.” I rest my hands on my hips. “What do you want?”
“That was a nice show, Free. Very heartfelt. But there are no cameras in here, no press. You can be honest now. Why are you really here?”
“Were you listening to a word I said? I refuse to let you and CHI take everything—”
“No, why are you back in Pointe Hill? You hated this place when we were in high school. H
