When that doesn’t work, I channel Taylor. Then I pick up my phone. Obadiah picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” He is breathless with laughter. Jealousy pings in my chest for whatever carefree moment he’s cultivated. I haven’t experienced a single one since leaving Twig City—and even then. “It’s me,” I say, shoving through to the other side of business. “Oh. Hey.” Concern spikes on the vowel. He draws it out longer than necessary. I know he wonders what would make me call him after a socially respectable hour of the night. “I need you to do something for me,” I say. My voice is light and only hinting at sultry. “What’s this, Raven Rogen asking me for a favor?” Someone in his background chuckles. It’s male. I don’t bother asking who. There’s no time. If Linc’s listening, he’s going to storm in as soon as I say the next part. If someone else is on duty tonight, well, I can’t waste time imagining the thrill they’ll get. It’s part of the plan anyway.
