Run Away Read Online Free PDF

his arm, too tired to construct a witty response. Sam popped the foil circle on his carton of orange juice with the sharp end of a straw and slurped thirstily. Smacking his lips, he said, “I think we should spend this bus journey really getting to know each other, since you don’t even know my name. And after we shared such a tender moment together last night.” He faked a sob.
    “What tender moment?” Kayla laughed, trying to jog her memory. The bus whirred into life.
    “You know, when I congratulated you on your face. It really was heartfelt. I don’t take these matters lightly.”
    “Oh yes, that. What a truly heartwarming compliment. I shall treasure it forever. Now how do you suppose we get to know each other?”
    “First things first, let’s start with the basics.” He nodded, stroking his chin and miming a reporter jotting down information in a notepad. “Age?”
    “Twenty.”
    “Snap! Occupation?”
    “Former intern for Greyfinch International, now unemployed beach bum.”
    “Hobbies?”
    “Running, drinking tequila, talking to strange men on buses.”
    “Hilarious. Favorite food?”
    “Cheesecake, without question.”
    “Any brothers or sisters?”
    A pause.
    “Erm, yeah. I had a brother.”
    Sam went pale. “Had? Shit. I’m sorry. I had no idea. I’m an idiot.”
    “It’s fine. How could you know?” He bit his bottom lip. She touched his arm. His skin was warm and already a little pink from the sun. “Really, Sam, it’s fine.”
    “Was it . . . was it a long time ago?”
    “Not really. About three weeks”
    “ Three weeks? What the . . . holy shit. Kayla, are you okay? I’m so sorry . . .”
    “Yeah. It’s kind of why I’m here, if I’m honest. I couldn’t bear to be at home.”
    “I can imagine. How . . . how old was he?”
    “Seventeen. Can we talk about something else now?”
    “Of course, sure. Sorry.”
    “Stop apologizing! You didn’t know,” Kayla said.
    “No. Right. Sorry. Erm, so you interned for Greyfinch? I didn’t know they took on interns.”
    “Yeah,” Kayla said, only partly thankful for the change of subject. “My dad partially owns it.”
    “Whoa. Wait. Is he the ‘Finch’ part of Greyfinch International?”
    “The one and only.”
    “Crikey. What’s that like?”
    “I don’t really think about it. It’s just my dad’s job, you know?”
    “So you’re like . . . loaded?” Sam tried to act nonchalant.
    “Yeah, I guess.” Kayla blushed. Her family’s wealth always made her feel uncomfortable.
    Sam seemed genuinely interested, angling himself to face Kayla. “So what exactly does he do?”
    “The company owns all of the CCTV cameras in the country. The department my dad runs uses the cameras as kind of a marketing tool.”
    “How do you mean?”
    Ugh. Her hangover wasn’t in the mood to explain. She missed her bed already. “So my grandpa Elijah founded Finch Marketing Limited about thirty years ago. Before the Internet and all that. It started really small. They had a few marketing operatives who would stand outside coffee shops, and they’d record foot traffic at certain times of the day, taking note of the kind of clientele who were buying coffee, what order they tended to place, that kind of thing. Then the experts—­like my grandpa—­would analyze the data coming in, write up really detailed reports, and sell the information to the companies they’d analyzed, who would then know how best to target consumers, what their spending patterns were like, all of that. They got big pretty fast.”
    “Bloody hell. I had no idea that kind of thing even happened.”
    “I know. It’s little creepy. So when the government announced that they wanted to privatize national surveillance, my dad jumped at the chance, ’cause imagine what that would do for his marketing? Nobody would need to stand outside anywhere. So they contacted one of the other bidders, Greyhawk Financial. They joined forces, hence Greyfinch. Now, instead of