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Ames flashed me her teeth. “That was all a lie perpetuated by your girlfriend. You went to jail because of this woman’s lies. I feel sorry for you, honestly.”
I shook my head. Same ol’ song and dance.
The fuckin’ shit of it is, Brees had prepared for what he’d done to Blaise.
He’d planned ahead. He had a great alibi—Ames—and he’d made sure to cover his tracks so that it looked like he wasn’t doing what he was actually doing.
Because, an eye witness account—one that held some weight at the base—by Ames made it to where I was the one in the wrong.
And since Blaise couldn’t remember her part in the play, it was Ames and Brees’ word against me.
They’d ‘happened’ upon Blaise in a back alley on the way to a dinner.
They’d stopped to help her, when I’d stumbled along, misinterpreted what had happened, and acted rashly.
I hadn’t acted rashly.
I’d acted honestly.
I’d gone to prison for it.
And the woman standing in front of me was responsible for it.
Maybe she hadn’t done the actual act of hurting Blaise, but she’d definitely played a large part in why I’d gone to prison and lost everything.
Granted, I’d have probably ended up going to prison regardless. You didn’t just beat a man to near death, knowing that he was likely going to fuckin’ die of his injuries, without thinking that you were going to deal with the consequences. But I hadn’t expected what had actually happened.
“Are you even listening to me?” Ames hissed, poking me in the chest with one overly long blue fingernail.
How did she even get anything done, like text on her phone or wipe her ass, with fingernails that long?
Like, seriously. They had to be at least an inch long. They were so long, in fact, that when she started clicking them on her watch, her fingernails would slightly scratch her skin with each downward curl of her fingers.
What kind of bacteria was trapped underneath them?
I barely suppressed a shudder.
“No,” I admitted. “I’m honestly hoping that you leave on your own so I don’t have to call the cops. Which, might I add, will be a point in my corner when you go do your thing with the restraining order. They’re going to see that you were the one kicked out of my place of business. That you were the one that refused to leave. How do you think that’ll look when you go do that?”
She narrowed her eyes hard, so much that I wondered if she could actually see out of them.
Then, she proved that she could by flouncing out of my office and not once looking back.
Though, the icing on the cake was when she pushed out of the door and broke a nail.
She cursed and watched it fall to the ground, stomped her foot once, then kept walking.
“I’m not picking that up,” Lulu announced loudly. “That’s gross.”
I looked pointedly at Lulu’s own long nails. Though, not nearly as long as Ames’.
She held them up for me to see. “Mine are fashionable. Hers are just plain ol’ gross.”
She had a point.
“Don’t take anything that woman says seriously,” Lulu ordered. “You’re not doing anything wrong. And I did my research before deciding to stay here with you. I know when facts don’t add up. And yours add up. They did something, I’m sure, that really screwed you over. Don’t do anything bad a second time, okay?”
I nodded once. “I won’t. Honestly, it gives me extreme happiness to know that that asshole won’t be able to hurt anyone else the way he hurt Blaise.”
“Good.” She paused and picked up four sticky notes off of her desk. “Now, these are yours. Do what you will with them. Sadly, I have to be getting home if I want to make it in time to watch my soaps before my show starts at six.”
With that she stood up and grabbed her purse from her front desk.
“Have a good one, Lulu,” I said.
She patted me on the chest as she walked past then left, being sure to make a wide berth around the broken nail Ames left behind, before heading out into the late afternoon sun.
I could do nothing but laugh as she walked to her massive motorcycle—one nearly the size of mine—and rode off.
That smile fell off my face when I once again looked at the fingernail.
Yeah, Ames and Brees were definitely going to be problems. I could feel it in my bones.
CHAPTER 17
I’m one rude comment away from bringing up a bunch of shit that happened two years ago.
-Blaise to Sin
SIN
My lips skimmed up the length of her body, stopping once over the slight roundness of her belly before continuing up to her breasts.
Just as I was about to pull her nipple into my mouth, she groaned and rolled over.
“I have to pee before we can do anything else,” she grumbled as she hurried to the bathroom, dislodging the damn cat that I hadn’t seen until he’d left with a grumbled hiss.
