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Wouldn’t be the first time. Poached?’ ‘What the hell does that mean?’ ‘Over easy?’ Donovan snorted with frustration. Victor constantly accused him of not listening, when clearly it was Victor who heard only what he chose to hear. ‘I decided to go to Texas to train that client’s slaves. I told Laci earlier, and now I’m confirming it with you. I should be gone for about six weeks. It’ll be great to be training again, be back in control of things. I’ll call when I’m ready to leave and you can join me in Stone Edge. I think that’s the best place for a new training facility. Golden Ridge and Calderwood might work, as well, but I’m thinking Stone Edge. What do you think?’ ‘Soft boiled? Hard boiled?’ ‘Now who’s not listening?’ ‘Oh, I’m listening, I’m just ignoring you.’ ‘May I remind you that I pay your salary?’ ‘Yes you do, and you might also want to remind yourself you can hardly find your way to the front door without my assistance. Fried?’ ‘Victor, what’s on your mind. You’re giving me. The first thing he discovered was that "For a nominal fee, guests may send or receive e-mail via computers on board." Who the hell thought nominal meant fifty cents a minute? The connection was as slow as a dial-up line. Still, when you considered where they were, it wasn't how well the elephant danced but that it danced at all. As soon as he logged in to the company he received a message that said, "Early, all your email is being diverted. If you expect any personal messages you'll need to notify them of your address on the ship. All your passwords have already been changed and you will not get the new ones until you arrive in person. Attempting to hack our system is grounds for termination. Now go have fun!"The next week was one of the most relaxing of Early's entire life. It was a precious time to get to know Kristin and Mark. Early spent a lot of time in the hot tubs, and just sleeping on the deck chairs. He spent even more time avoiding other passengers. The ratio of single.
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After a few minutes of standing in my bedroom doorway, motionless, I made my way out to the kitchen. I was like a man possessed. I remember pulling out the silverware drawer. I remember pulling out the knife my mother used to cut vegetables when she cooked. Slowly, knife in hand, I walked back into my bedroom. I sat on the floor and leaned against my closet door, something I had done since childhood. I was always afraid of what was hiding in the dark and I thought leaning against the door would keep them from escaping. Slowly, I stretched my left arm out straight. With the knife, I traced the scars of my old wounds. I didn’t feel the quick slits. I only felt the delicious pain that came with them. After the blood came, I sat there limp, my arm dangling off to the side and my hand lightly grasping the knife. I slowed my breathing and lowered my eye lids as I felt the warm liquid coat my arm. I rolled my eyes over to stare in amazement at the blood, the thick, crimson liquid.

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