The Art Of Revenge (Thalia Nash and Brandon) novel Chapter 68

Thalia’s Pov

We left to the sound of Dolly Parton’s Jolene, one of my favorite country songs. Both Nestor and Brandon were not country music fans, but because the trip was my idea, we were going to play my kind of music, which did not sit well with the boys, so we had to take turns picking songs.

My style was country, Nestor’s was pop, while Brandon’s was rock, the kind that sounded like someone was pounding a metal tin. Every time it was his turn to choose, I would shrug and close my eyes, waiting for the headache song to finish and he would do the same when it was my turn.

He hated country music. We had to stop a few times for him to puke, but the good part was that he didn’t collapse or become paralyzed.

Of course, Doctor Nestor was behaving as if we were dealing with a baby. He insisted on turning the car around every time we came to a halt. But Brandon, on the other hand, wanted us to keep going since he was loving the ride and it was better puking on the road than in the bathroom.

I was following Brandon’s lead, he had promised he would give us a signal the second his body felt like giving up but it seemed like he was having a trip of his life. We would stop to refuel or buy as much junk food as we could or just stop to breathe in the fresh air. Except for Nestor, it was Brandon and I’s first trip.

Brandon needed the trip, especially after hearing that he contacted his doctor and tried his last attempt in search of a cure, it explained why he was so withdrawn the last few months. The prospect of failing was eating him up.

Technically he was looking for a solution in secrecy while I was doing the same and we both failed. I had failed to tell him about my failure because it would only have p*ssed him off more. Talking about the machine, I had not stepped into the garage ever since the last failure. Of course, the prospect of having missed something kept me awake at night.

We arrived in the city in a matter of hours, the sun was practically setting, but we planned to stay the night at one of Brandon’s houses then fly home the next day. We put on our disguises of blonde wigs, sunglasses and parked the car in the hospital garage; the last thing we wanted was to draw media attention.

Brandon had cramped up on the Gala story. For the past two days, I was so p*ssed to notice that the story was not trending and most news organizations avoided airing the party incident for fear of being sued.

Josh and Jessica were cropped out of those that did air it. Only irrelevant channels were permitted to show the entire incident because they had no viewers or, if they did, it was mostly old folks who didn’t have time to make the story trend.

To keep everyone occupied, he published a videotape of Josh and his lawyer having sex in the courtroom office. Nestor was apparently given the command to release the tape when he gave him the order to sabotage them again. Such a controversy would be bigger and more delicious than what occurred at the Gala.

Because we had no intention of attracting crowds and because there was a limit to how many times Brandon could control the media. We went to the doctor’s office right away because he had already scheduled the scan.

He greeted us and told me to lie down on the bed, which I did, despite the fact that I was nervous. When I looked at Brandon, I noticed that he had a comfortable expression on his face, as if we hadn’t made the bet yet. He walked up to me and took my hand in his.

“Hope you are not going to cheat,” I asked. “Is it even feasible for me to cheat?” he exclaimed with a chuckle.