In the Unlikely Event... Read Online Free PDF Page B

occupants.”
    Lacey snapped at them. “What the fucking hellshitonfire kind of assholebullshitmotherfuckingkissingass shit are you two fucking talking about?”
    Chase stared at her in utter astonishment.
    “What?” Lacey said.
    “That was nine profanities in one sentence and we’re in a board room. What are you capable of in everyday situations?” Chase said.
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lacey replied, shuffling papers again.
    Chase looked around the room. Did Lacey have multiple personalities? Was Chase the only one who noticed that Lacey had switched from being Regan from the movie The Exorcist to Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, who wanted everyone to have what they most needed. It was frightening. No one else seemed to have noticed.
    “Now, if I have everyone’s attention, I’d like to discuss possible solutions to resolving the rift.” She passed around copies of her solution-solving guidelines. Each packet contained the cover sheet with the Institute’s logo of a giant eyeball with a candle inside the pupil. Chase had always thought it was creepy. On the next page the problem was listed. Lacey had titled it To Bleed or Not to Bleed. Chase nearly spewed water out her nostrils when she read that. The following page had a pie chart of how many women were missing organs, were menopausal, or were still menstruating. Did they really need to know this stuff? Chase thought. After that Lacey laid out her problem-solving method in numerical order with bullet points.
    Chase barely contained her urge to make a fleet of paper airplanes and aim them at Lacey’s head. Instead, she made herself read the guidelines.
    “Number One: Don’t bother with the obvious because it’s obvious.”
    What the fuck, Chase thought. Lacey is the one in charge and she’s bonkers. She is in charge of the fate of the Republik of Lesbekistan—a two hundred strong hunk of dykeness—and she’s nuts. She is currently in charge of my life and she’s certifiably crazy.
    Damn! She was going to need another appointment with Dr. Robicheck. Her synapsis was overriding her ability to edit her mental monologues—she’d used “currently,” “in charge” and a thesaurial variation of mentally unstable three times in a row. She looked askance at Lacey, who was tapping her pen as if the repetitive noise was going to speed up the problem solving.
    Chase slipped her BlackBerry out of her front pocket and covertly texted Dr. Robicheck’s secretary. “When can I get in?”
    While she waited for the return text, she read the next bullet point.
    “Number Two: The solution should contain a minimum of twenty-four contingency plans.”
    Sweet Jesus, even the United Nations couldn’t come up with that many solutions and they are professional diplomats. Chase rubbed her temples. She checked her phone. The tiny red light in the top corner of her BlackBerry blinked. Thank fucking God. It read, “She’s not available until next Wednesday at one forty-five. Is it life-threatening?”
    Chase considered this. It wasn’t her own life she was concerned about—it was Lacey’s. She regarded her friend, who had stopped tapping her pen and was perusing a file folder full of papers. Chase missed her happy-go-lucky goofy friend, the one who took very few of life’s problems seriously. Had aliens abducted the real Lacey and replaced her with this megalomaniac? Was this what happened to people in power? They lost their senses of humor? Chase suppressed the urge to get up and tickle Lacey just to make her laugh. She texted back, “That will be fine.” It was only a week. She’d let this alien Lacey live another five days.
    “Okay, I think that’s enough time. Who wants to go first?” Lacey demanded, eyeing the group and homing in on Chase.
    Chase froze. She hadn’t given the problem any thought. This was as bad as being in college, not paying attention and then getting called on. Instinctively sensing inattention, the powers-that-be zoom