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A strange calm filters through my chest as I say my next words. “I had in mind a long weekend, possibly a week off. We put in a lot of hours on this one.”
“You’re right.” He rocks back in his desk chair and props a foot on the corner. I watch as he pulls out a fat cigar and clips the end. He doesn’t offer me one, not that I’d take it.
Eventually, the pungent scent of cigar smoke drifts across to me as I continue. “But the settlement agreement and release need to go out. I had to be sure Lori could find what she needed to get it done…”
“Okay.”
I’ve reached the end of my patience, so I say what I came here to say. I speak the heart of the prosecution’s case. “Johnny Mauck had been driving for thirty hours straight when he lost control of his rig and skidded across that median.”
Brice lowers his foot and turns slowly to face me. Anger fires red in his watery eyes, but it’s nothing compared to the fucking inferno in my chest.
“Stop right there.” His voice is a calm warning.
“Big Traxx paid for the amphetamines that kept him driving. You were at the scene. You knew it all along.” Every breath is hot. “I found the documents, the logs, the prescription… everything that should have been provided during litigation.”
“You found nothing.” He speaks the words slowly, ominously, dark eyes like stone.
My eyes are flint. “I found it all.”
We’re silent, sizing each other up. The brass clock on the mantle above the fireplace is the only noise, ticking louder than the beating of a drum. If I had any lingering doubts, any question of what I had to do on the long drive out here, his response put the final nail in that coffin.
Finally, he leans forward. His leather chair creaks under his weight. “So you’ve made your decision?”
The fist in my chest still hasn’t unclenched. Perhaps it never will. Either way, the answer is yes. “I’m not doing this anymore.”
He has the nerve to look smug. “Where will you go?”
“Back to the beginning.”
If I’ve lost everything, I might as well. I’ll walk away. All the way to the only place I’ve ever known happiness.
I’ll pick up the pieces and start over.
Chapter 2
Ember
It’s a penis.
I stand in front of the table looking down, and there is no mistaking what it is.
Hours of online courses, too many YouTube videos to count (so many YouTube videos), correspondence courses at the community college, and this is what it comes down to…
Penis cakes for money.
Tabby rocks forward on her stool, leaning on her elbows watching me carve the corners off the beige sheet cake. Her jet-black hair is smoothed into thick curls, and a red handkerchief is wrapped around her head. Severe bangs, arched brows, and velvet-red lips. My best friend is punk rock Bettie Page.
“How can you make these and be so unaffected?”
I continue carving two round balls at the bottom of the long, almond-colored shaft. “It’s cake.”
“Still… you haven’t been with a guy in what? Five years?”
“Don’t go there.”
“I’m just saying. That’s one well-constructed penis.”
“Again, it’s cake.”
