A Very Sticky Situation (Completed)

60: Switch

This chapter is titled switch because there's gonna be a switch in POV between Emily and Ike

Also, kindly remember Emily calls Ike, Daniel.
So don't get it twisted

Emily POV

"Hello sir," I answer on the last ring, not wanting him to feel like he has authority over me, though deep down I know he does, regardless of how I strive to deny it.

"Hello Emily," his fatherly voice responds which to others may seem comforting, but I know better, that is why goosebumps trail my skin. "How are you?"

"I'm fine sir," I retort, hence it's what I'm permitted to call him, not even by his political rank or real name. "And you?"

"I don't have time to answer that," he growls sternly. "From my voice, you should know I'm healthy."

*From my voice you should know I'm healthy* I mimic, thankful his old self is on the other side of the country and not here to see me make a mockery of him.

"You are supposed to apologize!" He bellows, and I stretch my arm to distant the device and reduce the sound of his exclaim, thereby helping to prevent ear damage.

"I'm sorry sir," I do as told, wiping the lather from my left palm on the black biker short I'm rocking.

"Sorry for yourself!" He shouts, and I restrain myself from asking why he always has to be loud, I mean for his age he should be resting and not jumping from one state to another or throwing commands at people half his age.

"Thank you, sir," I let out, pushing the pink curtain that falls from the roof of the princess-style bed so I can sit my toned ass down. I hold in my laugh at my response thus the comeback appears funny to me.

"Good," he speaks, clearing his throat before continuing. "How did it go?"

"How did what go?" I taunt, deriving pleasure in pulling his feet.

"Quit playing with me Emily, I'm older than your father," he proclaims trying to display some amount of authority.

"Again, my apologies sir," I convey, releasing a breath in irritation.

"How did it go with Ana?" He implores, coming off as tough.

"It went fine," I respond, my fingers gliding through the cotton brown sheets that encase the high, soft mattress that looks welcoming and sleep inviting.

"I need details young woman," he dictates.

"The plan worked, she got convinced and has offered me her forgiveness," I explain, sighing.

"That's good," he affirms. "You know what to do next."

"Yes," I mumble, my nails meeting with my unkempt hair. "I'll need to get on her good side."

"Goodbye," he voices, and before I can note what's happening the line goes dead.

I don't think much about it and instead, relax on the bed going over the instructions he gave in my head. On the other hand, I can't argue with him because I know his commands are for my good.

In his way, this is how he looks out for me, and I know I need to do this, I need to obey them. This is the only way to be at peace with myself, so I have to go through with it.

Rising from the mattress, I shift the curtain once again and alight, sliding my toes back into the brown house-slippers that are the same shade as the nail polish I'm wearing, I cross the gold marble floor.

I attain at the blue basket where I dump my dirty clothes and fish the remaining ones out, the first set already washed and hanged. I was returning from doing that when I heard my phone ring.