Gone Girl 3

Chapter 14

Irène's POV

I meticulously polish the back of my gun with a reel cloth. I fill the magazine with thirteen rounds of bullets.

My phone rings and I pick it up right away without checking who called me.

"We have to talk," Derek says authoritatively.

"Aren't we talking now?" I reply bored as I put my gun in the safe and I hold the phone with my shoulder up to my ear.

"I don't have time for this, Irène. You know what I called for."

"I have better things to do," I cut him off as I lock the safe.

I look around my room. Empty. Or almost. I throw myself on the bed. I should change the sheets.

"Meet me at the Whiskey 9 bar in downtown," he says and I hang up. He doesn't know whether I'm going to go or not, and that's exactly what I want.

My time is too precious for whatever he decided to call me for. He assumed I had any idea—I really don't. I don't care either.

Surprisingly, I decide to get dressed. I quickly put on some tight jeans and a top with a black short jacket. I pick up my sunglasses and the first shoes I see.

One quick glance at the mirror before I go. I notice my green eyes surrounded by dark circles. My hair is bleached and almost platinum.

I don't look as good as I used to, unless I really try to fix my damaged hair and put on some makeup, but Derek isn't worth the effort.

The chauffeur comes to pick me up since I'm too lazy to drive today. I have a meeting with my parents next week, which I assume is to talk about the future of their company and how I can play a role in it since they noticed 'I've calmed down' without any sex scandals or being kicked out of college.

I really do miss college and it's always a surprise admitting that to myself.

The car pulls in front of the bar he'd asked me to come to and I tell the chauffeur I'll give him a call soon.

I walk inside and I immediately spot Derek. He looks miserable, as always. I still don't understand what Veronica sees in him.

Well, not everyone has good taste like me.

I've talked very little to Shanice this week but we will have a romantic dinner tonight.

Derek spots me and I put my sunglasses over my head. Some men look at me but they look away when I give them a disgusted, bitchy look.

"Do you want something?" he asks and I shake my head. I've had enough alcohol lately. I'm still hungover.

Sometimes I wonder how long until I get into a coma and die. I drink almost daily, not even Shanice can keep up with me.

He has a glass of whiskey and chugs it all down then orders another one.

Oh no. Problems in paradise.

"I need your help," he finally speaks as he looks at his phone, possibly waiting for a text.

"Of course you do."