Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“Take a sip of your hot chocolate,” she said.
I assumed she was telling me to try some new amazing seasonal flavor like white chocolate peppermint or something festive. Instead, I was assaulted by the stringent taste of vodka.
“What the fuck?” I gasped after I just managed to swallow it.
“I only had enough spare change for one hot chocolate, so I asked for two cups, and I figured you’d need a drink, so… I improvised.”
I took another sip, this time not choking because I knew what to expect. I let the warmth of the melted chocolate, fueled by the heat of the alcohol, warm me from the inside out.
“It was a good call,” I said, “but next time, how about a little bit of a warning? And maybe whiskey or rum instead?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” She gave me an impish grin.
“Sadist,” I mumbled into my cup before taking another sip.
“Maybe,” Sabrina said, stroking her chin like she was thinking about the possibility that she was, in fact, a sadist, making us both laugh.
“So, are you going to tell me about the guy?” she asked.
“Not right now. I’m still too sober,” I lamented.
“Well, I actually have a shift in about fifteen minutes.” This time her smile was half-hearted. “So, sadly, yours is the only hot chocolate that is spiked.”
“Sabrina, if you have to go to work, then go to work. You don’t need to babysit me. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”
“All evidence to the contrary, sweet cheeks,” she said, taking another long sip from her own cup.
“I don’t see how you are much better. You are living in the same infected, cold, damp, Dark Ages hellhole I am.”
“I’m still better at adulting.”
“How do you figure that?” I scoffed.
“I have a bed frame, which means I am a more adultier adult. Therefore, I win.”
She had a very valid point.
“Now, Reader’s Digest version of the boy in question. Do I get to sharpen my knives? Do I need to sharpen my knives?”
We sat there in silence for a moment while I considered what I could tell her, what I should tell her, and what I wanted to tell her.
Part of me wanted to lay it all out and let her be my judge, jury, and executioner.
Sabrina, although absolutely amazing, had had her share of run-ins with unfaithful men. It seemed like the culinary industry was more polluted with liars, cheaters, and assholes than the criminal justice system.
Or maybe it was just that people everywhere sucked.
I didn’t know anymore. All I knew was that I definitely wasn’t above it.
I thought about telling her about the swanky apartment Harrison had put me in, about how he had talked to our landlord, and that I was probably going to have to find a new place to live as soon as he bothered to get off his ass to file eviction paperwork.
The sad part was my landlord didn’t even need to file eviction paperwork. He could just call the police because while I had a subleasing agreement, he hadn’t exactly agreed to it and I wasn’t on the lease.
“Can you at least tell me who the guy is?” Sabrina asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What guy?”
“The one you spent the night with last night. The boys downstairs said that some rich asshole yelled at the landlord and threatened him if he didn’t get the power back on, then carried you out of here like a sack of potatoes. They joked that it was the first time they’d seen a body being carried out of here while it was still kicking and screaming.”
“That was my boss,” I said. “He didn’t like that I was staying at a place without heat. Apparently, he’s convinced the case we’re working on is the biggest of his career.”
“Okay, so then why was he here, and how did he know you didn’t have heat?”
“I wasn’t answering my phone because it was dead, so he came to ask a question, and he got all uppity because it’s an election year. And apparently, if his paralegal is so underpaid that she freezes to death while working for him, it might look bad.”
“Right…” Sabrina gave me that look, that signature Sabrina I am squinting at you and trying to see if I am buying your bullshit look.
“Yeah, he’s one of those trust fund babies.” I shrugged. “And I think his opponent is middle class and trying to use his family money against him. So he’s worried that his opponent will say that he’s not paying me enough and that he’s profiting off my suffering blah blah blah, which is stupid. He doesn’t pay me. The taxpayers do. Even lowly paralegals are public servants that work for the government.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Sabrina shrugged, then took another sip of her hot chocolate. “So, is that where you were last night? At his place?”