Bossy(26)

If he knew what Cooper said, I bet he wouldn’t be telling me about running out of chances.

Fuck him, and fuck his chances.

What I want to do right now is tell the entire office to go to hell and then spend the weekend getting drunk enough to forget all about Claire, our parents, and this shit show of a case. I’ll find someone who reminds me of her, screw her brains out, and then come back next week ready to get on with my fucked up life.

The one I used to enjoy.

But what I do is pull up yet another boring as shit record of some other poor schmuck’s case defending some other asshole and start taking notes.

Four months ago, I walked into a party feeling like something had to change.

Now I want to go back in time and tell myself to run the other way, because change fucking sucks. I don’t want to feel drawn to my soon-to-be step-sister, and I don’t want her self-righteous morals to infect my brain, making me question everything I’m doing.

I need to get her off my mind, or onto my dick.

One or the other needs to happen soon or I’m going to fucking blow.





Claire


Monday. I’m so over this stupid elevator ride.

I had a nightmare last night where I was stuck in a twilight zone version of reality where the floor numbers kept going up in smaller and smaller fractions, and the closer I came to the fifty-fourth floor, the slower it rose, so slow that I never quite got to work. Eventually someone would probably come to check, finding my desiccated corpse inside, a tiny fraction of an inch away from freedom.

Maybe I’m just too excited to be patient this morning, because today is a special day.

Today I get revenge.

Ding.

I step out, a little earlier than usual. Just making sure that I get here before Declan.

Carl looks up and smiles. “Donuts again? But it’s not Friday.” Realizing he shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth, he quickly adds, “Not that I’m complaining.”

Laughing, I open the box and present it to him. “It’s a special occasion. Help yourself, but I advise strongly to keep away from the Boston cremes.”

He raises an eyebrow in question. “Really? How come?” One troublemaker to another, he can probably sense something juicy is coming.

I shrug with feigned nonchalance. “It’s a surprise, but it’s specifically for Declan. Maybe you should find something to do near our office when he comes in. And that’s all I’ll say about it.” It’s probably all I have to say, because I’m sure my crazy grin says the rest.

He pointedly picks out a cruller and bites into it after a suspicious look-over. Gesturing at me with what’s left, he speaks with his mouth full, “You’re making me curious, young lady. Very curious. How do you know I won’t just warn him? I’ve known him a lot longer than I have you.”

“Because those other two crullers are also yours.”

Carl shakes his head sadly. “I see all hope is lost. Your argument makes it obvious you were destined to be a lawyer. Obviously my suspicions were misplaced, because that looks like a box of perfectly normal donuts to me.” With great care, he removes the remaining two crullers, as if every donut around them might be explosive.

“I thought you might see it my way. Anyway, I have to get to my spot.” Closing the box, I set off towards my office.

“Claire!” Carl calls after me.

Looking over my shoulder, I wait for the inevitable. “Yes?”

“What can a goose do, a duck can't, and a lawyer should?” He grins over his second cruller.

“Still no idea, Carl.”

“Stick his bill up his ass.” And with that, he sits down out of sight from where I’m standing, undoubtedly enjoying his third cruller. I like Carl, but he’s a total weirdo, not to mention sugar fiend.

Picking up the pace, I rush to my spot, putting the box down on my desk, open and facing the door. Everything looks the same as Friday. There’s no way Declan won’t notice it. Now all I have to do is wait and hope I’m not too obvious when he walks in.

I get the sudden urge to rub my hands together like a super villain.

Three well-prepared Boston cremes are lined up next to each other, just waiting for my target. I take a regular glazed and munch on it happily while I wait. It’s a good thing it doesn’t take long, because there’s no way I’m getting anything done before he gets here.

Declan strides in like he always does, tall and straight, dressed in an immaculate suit that’s obviously tailor cut. He almost walks right by, but spots the donuts and stops. “Again? Is this going to be an everyday thing?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Carl doing the world’s slowest walk-by just outside our door. I smile, pretending innocence. “We’ve been working hard, and I felt like a treat this morning. That’s allowed, right?”