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“Did he say anything to incite you? Or you just acted on earlier emotions?”

She was scribbling notes on her legal pad, her slender fingers wrapped tightly around the pen. For a moment, my thoughts wandered again, visions of her hands wrapped around my cock skipping through my raddled brain.

“Cocksucker got all up in my face and said, ‘I know you’re tapping her and you should scrub your dick because she’s nothing but a dirty Jew.’” I felt my Adam’s apple bob in my throat, as if trying to clear away the rising emotion. “I really don’t know why I cared that much. I’m a fucking atheist, and it’s not like I’m some protector of the Jews. Yeah, I tap . . . I mean, Camper and I have an arrangement. We hang out together when we aren’t seeing someone else. She’s not dirty, and my dick doesn’t need a scrubbing. I never even realized Camper was Jewish.”

“I hear you, Mr. Wrigley. No need to discuss your manly digit or who you’re tapping anymore. Although the next time, I may recommend getting to know who you’re seeing or dating a little better. At least know their religion.” She actually blushed when she said manly digit. Then she sort of scowled as if the mere thought of my dick disgusted her.

Maybe she’s a lesbian?

“So after the man you assaulted, um,”—she looked down to check her notes—“after Mr. Cameron insulted your body and your friend, you did what?”

“I grabbed his big, fucking ugly bald head and bashed it into the brick wall until it was bloody. Oh, and I coldcocked him in the nose, which also happened to get very bloody. I would’ve done more damage, but the cop was right on me, and now here I am with you on Christmas Eve.”

“I see you’ve been arrested one other time?” She had flipped through a folder, her green eyes concentrating as she used her pen to trail the line she was reading.

“Yeah. Some other ass started spewing yo-mama jokes at me at some rinky-dink frat party back in college. My mom’s dead and I don’t take kindly to that shit, so I pummeled him, left him with a concussion and a broken arm. He didn’t press charges. Apparently it was more important that the stupid fraternity not get into trouble for serving alcohol to minors and passing drugs than it was for him to get justice. Lucky me, I guess.”

She nodded while I talked, her eyes intently focused on me as if I was the most fascinating man on earth. And at that moment, I wanted to be. I also wanted to see her head nodding in my crotch, if I was being completely honest.

My semi had yet to subside; Ms. Road had done little to entice it to do so. Not only with her looks, but her eyes that consumed each of my words and her willingness to listen pulled confessions of the truth from my lips. But I knew her intent interest was all part of the gig; she listened for a living. It had nothing to do with me.

Or did it?

“I’d say. Looks like you’re in luck again tonight because when the police went to question Mr. Cameron, they found some very interesting stuff going on in his apartment. Let’s just say, he won’t be pressing charges either. You’re free to go, Mr. Wrigley. Merry Christmas.”

“What the fuck? What were all the questions for?” I stood abruptly, my erection now fully deflated. Here I was thinking this was a pretty cool chick, even though she was nailing my balls to the wall, and she played some mind game with me.

“Had to make sure I wasn’t releasing a full-time scumbag back into the world just in time for the holidays,” she said, barely glancing at me as she shuffled her stack of papers, gathering them into a neat pile.

There she went again, being all stand-up and earnest. And gorgeous, to boot.

She unfolded those long legs and stood, holding out her hand to shake mine again, but I couldn’t move.

I could leave? Just like that? Oh well, who the fuck was I to complain? Except I’d just admitted more to this woman than any other woman in my life.

What a fucked-up night, especially when I realized it was all because of the absurd sexual-favors arrangement I had with Camper. I got a lot of pussy over the years, so I wasn’t sure how I ended up so deep with her, especially since she works for me. Yeah, the responsibility probably fell on me. I’d been in a bad place, desperate for some TLC, and she gave it without strings—mostly. I knew I’d never have what my brother found, but everyone needs a little love, right?

Bottom line: this was on me. I’d fallen down the rabbit hole with Camper, so I’d beat the shit out of this dude when he insulted her, and now I was paying the price. Or not, or whatever the fuck this was.

Following Ms. Road’s lead, I stood, practically jittering on my feet as the adrenaline rush slowly came to a halt.

Finally convincing myself to calm down, I shook her hand and looked straight into her big green eyes. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, A-L-Y-S-O-N. I’ll never be able to think of that song the same. By the way, do you work out? I own a few gyms around town . . . maybe you’d like a complimentary membership?”

I rambled as I stalled, not wanting to part ways with this chick. Now that I was a free man, I wanted to see her again. She ignited something inside me, a desire to protect and care for her, or some weird crap like that. What was this—Oprah?

“Thank you, but I must decline,” she said, her voice polite but with no hint of regret. “The whole lawyer-and-client thing—it doesn’t look right. But you have a good New Year, Mr. Wrigley.”

And with that, her boots clicked against the floor as Ms. Road walked toward the door and slipped out, leaving Paul to handle the rest of my details, and me wondering what the hell just happened. And I don’t mean being released from jail.

Aly

Two months later

I jumped off the bus in Oakland and slowly made my way toward the center of Pitt’s campus. Students rushed by me as the ringing of church bells hung heavy in the damp winter air. My mind empty, I was focusing on nothing but the sound my boots made crunching along the snowy sidewalk as I headed toward my happy place, when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I tugged off my glove with my teeth and reached in my coat pocket to grab it, then swiped my finger across ANSWER CALL. My heart fell when I saw who was calling, and for one fleeting second, loneliness enveloped me until I shoved it away, forcing myself to replace it with cheer.

“Hil, how’s the new city?” I said, greeting my law school buddy with a smile brightening my face. She couldn’t see it, but I knew she could hear it. Hilary was one of only a few outsiders I let in. The petite Asian woman understood how hard I’d worked to get where I was. The daughter of Chinese immigrants, she was also the first generation in her family to attend college. Originally named Hui, once she started school she’d demanded everyone call her Hilary, wanting to fit in.

“It’s good. Cold when the wind whips off the water downtown, but my job is pretty cush, and I found a fabulous studio apartment near the nightlife. I’m trying to get out, meet people.”

A genuine grin transformed my face as I heard this. Hilary was always more social than me, and she deserved to make a great life in Cleveland.

“Sounds incredible. How’s your caseload?” I slowed my pace as we talked, wanting to savor my few minutes on the phone with her before hitting my destination.

“Oh, Aly, you should think about leaving the PD office. I have an assistant who basically does everything I don’t want to do.”