Chapter 44
TEXT FROM ME TO METCALF: Ben on way to Florida for a couple of days to see—who? FYI, many people work in the gallery. Any of them could be a suspect. Thoughts?
Metcalf: Old news. Your job is just to keep an eye on HIM. NO READ-UP.
No read-up. It sounds innocent, but it’s a slap in the face. It’s an FBI expression that roughly translates as “Your classification doesn’t give you clearance to read a file labeled TOP SECRET.”
It’s Metcalf’s nasty way of telling me to stay in my lane.
Draft text to Metcalf: Listen, dickhead: Remember what Hemingway said about life?
“They threw you in and told you the rules and the first time they caught you off base they killed you.” YOU’RE the one who put me in this moronic assignment.
YOU’RE the one who told me to notice everything, report everything, no detail too small.
So I’ve watched, listened, paid attention, done what you’ve asked… and you still treat me like shit. WTF?!
What I send instead: Okay.
I know, I know; I said Amber wasn’t the first woman to be bullied, dominated, or marginalized by a powerful man. I guess that means I’m not the second.