Especially since we’ll be doing it our preferred way.
Together.
Epilogue (1)
One Month Later…
Garcia
This is that moment.
That crucial moment where you have to enter a plea.
Anofficialplea.
In front of everyone.
Those in the gallery.
The court reporter.
The bailiff.
The other attorneys.
Other clients or victims.
The Judge.
It’s either agonizing or easy.
Today?
For me?
Here in the court of public opinion?
It’s easy.
A helluva lot easier than I honestly ever envisioned it being.
Benefit of being chloroformed, kidnapped, and forced to get fucked in front of an audience, I imagine.
I thank the bartender for my tequila and lime prior to turning towards Cian McDermott, one of the attorneys at my firm that’s closer to my age, who grumbles under his breath, “God,I hate these fucking garden charity events.”He takes his own bourbon and lime that’s being offered.“Who wants to wear this much clothing in this much heat?”
Chuckles precede us strolling away from the open bar.
“However, I willconfess-”
“Very unlike you,” escapes in a mirthful fashion.
“In confidence-”
“Ah,” I steal a sip of my beverage, “morelike you.”
“That these PR parades are a perfect place to search for our future partners,” he announces alongside an arrogant smirk.“And I don’t mean for the firm.”
Rather than remind him that I’m aware of the secretary he’s harboring feelings for, I simply state, “Searches foryou, maybe.Not me.”Our meandering continues towards the table I’ve been occupying most of the afternoon with my guests.“I’m here with my boyfriend.”
