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Frodo’s dark eyes brightened. “What are you going to do without your little team of lackeys to do all your work for you?”
Biting back her smirk, Sloane intentionally grazed her arm with her elbow while making a show of moving around her to access the fridge. Frodo stood her ground like an experienced defensive lineman.
“You think I needed any help kicking your ass?” Sloane chuckled for the first time in a month as she reached for a can of cream soda. “Please. I could crush you after a lobotomy and three martinis.” She shut the door with her hip.
Frodo’s olive skin flushed with color, but she didn’t break. “You know, people who feel the need to talk so much shit usually have an inferiority complex, or at the very least lack self-esteem.” Frodo moved away from the fridge and Sloane followed. “Those of us who are confident in our abilities let our actions do the talking.”
It was Frodo’s turn to lean against the sink and pretend to be casual. Sloane knew better. There wasn’t a single bone in her little body that wasn’t wound up so tight it teetered on snapping.
“And yet,” Sloane sighed dramatically, “all I’ve ever heard your actions say is that you’re second-rate.” She scanned her from head to foot after a deliberate pause. “At best.”
Frodo’s lip twitched exactly as Sloane expected. It was a look she’d seen a hundred times before, but this time it sent a new spike of adrenaline through her system. The feeling wasn’t quite a defibrillator to the chest, but it was something.
“Man, you must really be worried about losing if you’re putting this much energy into psyching me out,” Frodo replied with a grin that exposed deep dimples.
Sloane was impressed that she wasn’t as easy to set o as usual. Maybe she was finally learning to adopt a poker face.
Her composure only made the game more exciting. It was almost tantric.
“Energy?” Sloane laughed as she popped open her can and took a sip of real sugar for the first time in years. “As if it took any energy to remind you that you’re going to lose. I
was just trying to be courteous so you didn’t get your hopes up only to have them crushed.”
Frodo’s face reddened, but she kept a white-knuckled grip on her composure. Under the harsh, white, fluorescent lights, her features were sharp but almost pretty.
Damn. Have I lost my touch?
“I guess we’ll have to see what happens when you stop hyping yourself up and show up to do the work,” Frodo quipped with a tight smile.
Before Sloane could say anything else, Yoyo, the little blonde woman that always seemed to be standing in Frodo’s shadow, appeared in the doorway.
As they walked away together, Sloane wondered if something was going on between them. Judging by the way Yoyo never stopped looking at her, it was a crush at the very least. She found herself wondering whether it was one-sided as she meandered back to the conference room.
CHAPTER 7
TWO DAYS LATER, Ari and the rest of the prosecutors-in-training had gone through the arrest, bond, arraignment, and pre-trial of a woman charged with cyberstalking. In their mock scenario, an estranged wife obtained her husband’s password
and used it to read his emails and download documents before locking him out of his accounts.
Later, she filed for divorce with the personal information taken from the emails and posted some of the most embarrassing tidbits all over his social media. The judge in the divorce case notified the police.
Now that they’d reached the actual trial part, they were going to take turns examining the State’s first witness, the detective who investigated the case.
Ari’s fingers tightened around the legal pad she’d spent all night filling with questions. The extra ca eine she needed to get herself going that morning had her leg shaking so bad it kept banging against the table. She was an Olympic sprinter itching to leap o the blocks.
Chad took his place as judge at the front of the room with a short table set in front of him to act as the judicial bench.
On one side of his makeshift bench was a podium for the prosecutor. On the other, a chair for the witness. For this scenario they were going without a defense attorney in order to move quickly and give them all a chance to play the role.
“Okay,” Chad said as he zipped up his black robe. “Which one of you is brave enough to go first?”
Ari counted to five in her head so as to not appear too eager. When everyone else diverted eye contact, she raised her hand and tried to appear nonchalant.
Chad smiled as he gestured to the podium. “Ms. Vidal, come on up.”
Ari gathered her pad, divided in sections by color-coded post-its, and three pens, her favorite and two back-ups. As she crossed in front of Sloane, she couldn’t help but peer at her from her periphery and o er her a smug little smirk.
Coward.
