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Where it counted, she was corroded and vile.
Once the lights flicked on, Ari snapped out of her daze and focused on her binder. Sloane was not going to throw her o her game. Not here.
CHAPTER 4
WITH A BOUNCE IN HER STEP, Ari shook o the shock of Sloane’s unexpected presence and entered her second day of training with a smile. Despite having to wear her glasses thanks to a contact lens mishap, she was determined to enjoy every moment of what she’d worked so hard for. Out of thousands of applicants and three rounds of interviews, she’d landed her dream job. Sloane wasn’t going to ruin that for her no matter how hard she tried.
“Hey,” she greeted Yelena when she entered the training room. “Not stuck outside today! That’s an improvement.”
She looked up from the state-issued laptop with a flush in her cheek. “I got here an hour early just in case,” she admitted sheepishly.
Ari rested against Yelena’s section of the table after dropping her bag o on her chair. She was a little early too, and judging by the mostly empty room, they’d been luckier in their commute than their comrades. They made small talk as the room gradually filled.
“We’re going to get an overview of County Court and Domestic Violence Court today,” Ari explained quietly as she
leaned in closer. “At the end, we’ll fill out preference sheets for where we go for Weeks Three and Four of training. And more critically, where we’ll be for nine months when training is over.”
Yelena peered up at her with wide eyes. “How do you know?”
It was the wrong question.
“I suggest you put in for DV. The DV o ce is in the same building as the courthouse and the monthly parking pass doesn’t cost as much as my rent. Once we move to felonies, it’ll be a long time before we can drive to work again. Plus, County is a total frat house, and you don’t want to spend nearly a year there if you can avoid it.” She gave her the answer to the question she should’ve asked. “It’s not a sure thing, but if you put it as your top pick, you’ll have a better chance.”
Yelena’s lips blossomed into a smile. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” she replied before getting to her seat a few minutes before Hal strode in followed by two prosecutors only a little older than them. Ari recognized the man as the Assistant Chief of DV, Chad. He’d been a baby prosecutor her first summer at the o ce.
For the next three hours, the group learned about the di erent cases each division handled. Ari had no interest in prosecuting drunk drivers and municipal infractions, but she had to admit the County Assistant Chief sold it a hell of a lot better than Chad did. Based on this presentation, she’d be shocked if anyone opted for DV, which suited her perfectly.
“Before you all dart o for lunch—” Hal started handing out the preference sheets “—fill these out so we know
whether you prefer County or DV. There’s no guarantee we can accommodate your request because about fifteen of you will go to DV while the bulk of the group will be going to County, but we like to try.”
“What if we have no preference?” Sloane asked, looking bored as she accepted the paper.
Hal furrowed his brow. “I suppose you can write that in,”
he replied after a beat. “Though you might be the first person not to lean one way or the other after listening to the song and dance.”
Ari knew she was openly glaring at Sloane, but she couldn’t help herself. Could she really care so little? She could think of a dozen people that wanted nothing more than to sit in her spot but hadn’t been picked.
Incensed, Ari filled out her sheet and deposited it on Hal’s lectern. As she waited for the room to clear so she could move her chair to the lunch circle, she couldn’t stop staring at Sloane in disgust.
When Hal approached Sloane as she gathered her things, she couldn’t help feeling satisfied. She hoped he was calling her out for her rude behavior. Instead, all she could make out was something about cellphones and stepping outside.
Oh good, he’s noticed that too.
Despite the clear instructions on their materials, Sloane was always glancing down at her phone. As if no one would notice her staring at her crotch ten times a day and not realize what she was doing.
Instead of responding, Sloane nodded and walked away.
She didn’t even have the decency to apologize.
Typical.
AS SOON AS Sloane shut the massive glass door behind her, she peeled o the pantyhose she’d ripped at some point in her miserable day. Leaving her shoes in the foyer, her bare feet slapped against the cold marble floor of her childhood home. Nearly empty of occupants, it was huge and sterile. It hadn’t been any warmer when her dad, sister, and nanny lived there.
With unmitigated joy, she balled up the shredded pantyhose and shoved them in the kitchen trash. The happiness was short-lived. Before she could do more than slip o her blazer and hang it on the back of the dining room chair, her phone buzzed on the counter. Without looking at it, she threw her shoulders back and marched up the grand, sweeping stairs.
