Redeem Me by Eliza Freed Read Free Book Online

if not one minute’s passed since our last gathering. Our world together is on a different plane from the rest of our days. They’re family and an incredible distraction.
    The cargo train on the tracks next to us catches my eye as a yawn engulfs my face. I can feel myself succumbing to the warmth of sleep.
    “Charlotte, how can you be tired? We just got up,” Jenn asks, barely looking up from her magazine.
    “I don’t actually sleep anymore. When I do, I either dream of having sex with Jason or killing him,” I say.
    Jenn nods. “I dream of killing him, too.”
    “Plus, riding the train relaxes me. I’ve always loved it.”
    The windows go dark as the train enters the tunnel. We’re right on time for our 8:14 a.m. arrival in Manhattan.
    “It’ll be good to see Julia. I haven’t seen her since Homecoming last year,” Jenn says. “What fun that was.” Homecoming was a year ago? It was a lifetime ago. My mind wanders to all the weekends Jenn came to visit at Rutgers. Julia and my other roommates loved her as much as I do.
    “I know. Julia’s been great about taking care of the condo. She’s handled everything since we bought it.”
    “It makes the most sense for you to move to New York City. You already own half of an apartment. What are you going to do with it?” Jenn asks, focusing on the obvious.
    I sigh, sick of the obvious. “Julia and I bought it because the market was in shambles and the rates were low, and I had a lot of money from the settlement. We always planned to either sell it high or she’ll buy me out. I just had the majority of the down payment since I’m rich now that my parents are dead.” I shake my head and close my eyes. Life makes no sense—why should I? “You know, tremendous wealth as a consolation for being orphaned,” I say, and Jenn says nothing. I really don’t know why my friends hang out with me. They deserve better. “How about you drop me off at the office and I’ll give you the key to the apartment?” I offer as a plan. “I don’t know how long I’m going to be, but I’ll keep in touch.”
    “Take your time. I want to go shopping and get my nails done,” she says.
    “How very New York,” I add as my phone dings with a text. It’s Margo.
    NICK SINCLAIR LEFT ME A
    MESSAGE LAST NIGHT. HE
    WANTS TO KNOW IF YOU
    CAME BACK TO CO WITH ME.
    I run my finger across the screen of my phone. Noble…he’s always had a way of consoling me. Maybe he didn’t know before I went to Oklahoma. It’s hard to remember a time with Noble when I wasn’t laughing. I rest my head on the window as we pull into Penn Station. There’s no laughing now. I text Margo back.
    Just tell him no.
    *  *  *
    Robertson’s Reports is a survey creation and interpretation company occupying ten floors of a midtown office building. I wish my parents had lived to see it. They would have been impressed. I take a deep breath and head to the elevator bank just as the door’s opening. Fourteen of my closest friends and I file onto the elevator. There are several field offices throughout the country, but the offices we occupy on floors 48 through 57 of this building are the corporate headquarters. The elevator stops several times on the way up, providing more room with each stop. I take a few deep breaths as the door opens on 55 and I squeeze my way past the last four men in the elevator.
    As I step out, comfort and familiarity sweep over me. Even though the study of statistics bores just about everyone else on the planet, I love it, and my boss, Bruce, and I did some great work here the past few months. The receptionist sees me and runs from the other side of the desk with her arms outstretched. She’s taller than me and slightly plump in a provocative way. She knows it and wears curve-hugging dresses and pencil skirts with thick belts. She’s irresistible to men and women and is an island in the sea of hard, skinny shells inhabiting the city. Her hair is long, as brown as dark chocolate and