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Speaking of the devil, Tenley’s still sitting there at her desk, on a phone call, barking something about a motion that she’s going to make, and how she doesn’t give a damn if the other attorney doesn’t like it because she came to win.
“I won’t accept anything less,” she practically snarls, and I wonder how she hasn’t sported fangs yet.
I hesitate at her door just long enough that she must sense I’m there, because she looks up. A frown settles on her face as she rises from her desk. She moves toward me, phone cradled between her shoulder and her ear, then grabs the door and slams it so hard, the whole frame shudders.
“Good night to you too,” I say under my breath as I head toward the parking garage.
As much as I want to leave my work at the office, I think about Tenley on the ride home. I have to wonder if she even has a life outside of work, or if she’s gunning hard for that promotion. My promotion.
She sure as hell isn’t going to get it, though.
Not if I can help it.
I’m already on my A-game, but I’ll double down if I have to.
My condo is in a swanky newer complex on the North end of Sapphire Shores. It was still under construction when I bought it—I even picked the colors on the shutters. I was so proud of that purchase because I finally thought I’d made it—I was making real money for the first time, as a junior associate at Foster and Foster. From there, the sky was the limit. No longer would I have to worry about money. I was on my own, responsible for only myself.
Or so I thought.
“Brooksy!” The high-pitch scream of my name nearly pierces my eardrum as a tiny tornado comes running into the foyer, grabbing hold of my mid-section.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, dropping my things, scooping the kid up under his armpits, and swinging him around. “Were you good while I was gone?”
“Oh yeah,” he says, smirking like the little devil I know he is.
I narrow my eyes. “Jace? Level with me.”
I take a step until I’m in the doorway of the living room. My sister Ellie is there, on the couch, watching some television show that doesn’t look anywhere near appropriate for a six-year-old. She doesn’t take her eyes off the screen, but I can see exhaustion in them. “He was a terror.”
“What did he do?”
“The more appropriate question is, what didn’t he do?” She sinks down deeper against the cushions.
My once-sedate, professional living room is a minefield of scattered Matchbox cars, Legos, building bricks, the works. There’s a bright red, wet splotch of something on my new, cream-colored rug. My glass coffee table has a half-eaten Uncrustable on it. Among the wreckage is a laptop, which hasn’t moved since I sat it down ten hours ago, before I left for work.
Carefully, I ask, “So… how’s the job hunt going? Any prospects?”
Ellie fixes me with a pointed stare, as if it’s my fault she lost her last job. My fault her apartment complex in South Portland burned to the ground last year, sending everything she owned up in smoke. My fault she just can’t seem to spring back, no matter what she does.
“No. Jace wanted to go to the park. I’ll do it tomorrow,” she says.
I don’t tell her she said that yesterday. And last week. And the week before. There’s always some excuse.
But she’s been through hell. I have to believe she’s trying to get her life together and that one day, she will. Not just for herself, but for my nephew, too. Until then, they’ve got me.
“All right.” I sniff the air, not smelling anything but crayon wax and maybe Play-Doh. “What should we have for dinner?”
She gives me a confused look, as if I just asked her to donate a kidney. “We’ve been snacking all day. Don’t worry about us.”
I’m about to remind her the kid needs a proper meal, but I think better of it because she’s clearly had some kind of day.
Despite the fact that we had Thai last night and fast food burgers the night before, I pull up my Door Dash app and order a pizza from Ted’s—half cheese, half supreme.
After I place the order for delivery, I gently pry Jace’s sticky hands from my suit. “Okay, Bud. Let me go and get changed out of this suit. If you go wash up for dinner right now, your mom will let you have a scoop of ice cream after we eat.”
I look to my sister, who doesn’t appear to have heard a word I said.
His eyes light up. “Okay! But only if it’s chocolate.”
“Chocolate it is.”
He practically bounces off the walls on his way to the bathroom to wash up. A second later, the faucet’s running and he’s singing to himself.
