MIRELA

“Daisy,” I said as she picked up the phone. “Meet me at the event centre in thirty minutes. Don’t make me wait.”

“Mom, the show doesn’t start in two hours. Why are we going there this early?”

“So we’d be able to get a view of the area and make sure everything goes according to plan.”

“Mom,” she began in an exasperated tone. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Of what? Making sure the odds align in favour for your ungrateful ass? No. No, Daisy, I don’t get tired. Do you ever get tired of sitting around doing…”

“The scheming, Mom. The plotting, the constant need to run things according...