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“Innocent!” I yell from the shower as I rinse the shampoo from my hair. And I plan on proving it as soon as my firm gives me the case. Which should happen today.
Sadie: So, we’ve got a thirty-something year old man who’s gorgeous and absolutely oozing with swagger. Yes, I said swagger.
Eden: He is sexy.
“No, he’s not.” I slather conditioner through my wet hair as Eden and Sadie theorize on a case they know nothing about. They’ve never known much of anything either. I went to high school with both of them, and even back then they were insufferable.
Sadie: Let’s break down what we know. Bane Delgado is part of the Delgado Family, and he’s been brought up on charges of extortion by way of the Rico Act of 1970. Witnesses will testify that the Delgado Family operated through a network of associates who would approach businesses here in Saint Pierce demanding payments for security. Those who refused to comply faced vandalism and many other harmful activities. Crazy, right?
Eden: Remember the pizza shop on 39th that caught fire a few years ago? I’m wondering if arson was at play.
“Absolutely not,” I say as I aggressively squirt body wash onto my loofah. “That’s all speculation. There’s no proof.” I’ve got one tit soaped when Sadie stops my motions with her next words.
Sadie: They’ve hired Stanford, Beaumont, and Lind to represent them. That means their lawyer might end up being the sister of the guy who owns Club Greed. Do you think Greer Huxley could handle this case?
My stomach does a somersault listening to their ensuing laughter. I never did like these girls.
Eden: I know she’s supposed to be a rising star in the legal field, but no I don’t think she can. She’s probably too busy gawking over her older brother’s besties, the Thorne twins.
“I never gawk,” I shout as they cackle like drunk hens. “But if I did, it would be quick and wouldn’t interfere with my job.”
These women are royally pissing me off. I am unfavoriting them from my podcast list.
Sadie: Can you imagine being in the same room with those guys?
Eden: Listen, Greer has to be one of the luckiest women on the planet. She’s related to Devereaux Huxley, and she gets to pal around with Roman and Ledger Thorne all day. I’m willing to bet Greer has had some fun times at her brother’s club with Roman or Ledger, or possibly both. And now she’ll be defending Bane Delgado himself.
My face heats to an inferno. They’re just jealous because Roman and Ledger wanted nothing to do with them in high school. Still don’t. “Not likely,” I shout. I do not frequent my brother’s sex club. That is a bridge too far for me to cross.
Eden: Who could blame her? If it were me, I’d never leave the club. Even after everything that went down there.
While they get lost in retelling the Club Greed murders that happened a few months ago, I finish washing and shaving. And stewing over how they’ve placed me under a microscope with all their listeners. Hundreds of thousands, who all now think I’m an incompetent walking vagina, spending all my time getting spanked and fondled at Club Greed.
It’s like high school all over again. Sadie and Eden were the mean girls back then, and it appears they’re even meaner girls now.
Sadie: Devereaux Huxley ended up dating the detective who worked on that case. What was her name?
Eden: Chloe Bardot. She went undercover as a Greedy Girl. Some women have all the luck.
I roll my eyes and shut off the water. “They’re in love, unlike you two losers.” I jerk the shower door open and stalk across the bathroom tiles to the vanity where my phone plays the podcast.
Sadie: So, the question remains, is the Delgado Family guilty of extortion, or is it all a big misunderstanding? And will Greer Huxley be in over her head with this one?
Water droplets fall on my phone screen as I jab a finger to the glass, cutting off the podcast. “Bye, bitches.”
“That seems harsh,” someone says in a low, domineering voice.
I scream, spinning around to land a wet foot into the crotch of a tall body. And then I’m gone like the wind, sprinting past the claw-foot tub, right out of the bathroom. Adrenaline races through my veins as I haul ass through my ridiculously large house toward the front door.
My mind tries to remember details of the intruder but only black clothes and a black ball cap surface. Great, no description if I survive.
I dash down the hallway and make it half-way through the living room when I hear them shout, “Greer! Wait.”
As soon as I hear that deep voice, I freeze in my tracks.
“Greer, it's me.”
Words fail me as I turn to see Roman standing in the outskirts of the living room. Holding the white towel I left behind. His baby blues sweep over my breasts, down to my bare…
