Ask Me Why(6)

I all but roll my eyes at her pitiful excuse. “No need to explain. Please don’t let it happen again. Being respectful of schedules is something I take seriously. You chose me because I’m the best. I know what it takes in this business.”

“And I want to win.”

“Of course. That’s the ultimate goal.”

“Good.” Her smile is predatory. “How about we go out to dinner, my treat. I’d love the opportunity to make this little delay up to you.”

I wave her off. “That’s not necessary. And besides, I’m late enough getting home.”

“To your wife?” Lianna’s face seems to pinch. It’s hard to tell.

I snort loudly. “Hell no. My son.”

“Pity,” she mumbles. “Children are so demanding. Talk about high maintenance. I’m so glad we decided against having them.” Her forehead stays unmoving even though her statement calls for some emotion. Now that I look closer, she doesn’t have a single wrinkle. Her skin looks plastic.

“Definitely a good choice,” I mumble.

Lianna’s brown eyes laser into me. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you insinuating I’m not the motherly type?”

“I’d never suggest such a thing.” Although I highly doubt she has a maternal molecule in her body. “Kids tend to have a difficult time with divorce. They add a messy layer and make the fighting more brutal.”

She steeples her fingers and nods knowingly. “Ah, good point. Although taking away his privileges would’ve been a nice touch.”

I grind my molars at her conniving suggestion. Children should never be pawns. And a father has every right to see his kids. I take a deep breath and manage to refrain from lashing out.

“Thankfully, it didn’t come to that,” I say slowly.

“Indeed,” she agrees. “I don’t want more trouble coming my way. He deserves to be the target for it all. I need to sully his reputation. Let all our friends know what a dog he is. In our circle, that’s the worst punishment.”

I avert my eyes to the window so Lianna doesn’t catch the disdain reflecting there. She’s referring to the high society, country club bullshit I’ve purposely stayed away from.

“And there are no transgressions on your part?”

Her gasp is over the top. “Mister Stone—”

I hold up a palm. “Brance, please.”

Lianna delicately clears her throat. “I assure you all wrongdoing was solely on his behalf, Brance. I’m a faithful wife. Straying from my marriage never occurred to me. But my husband? He’s been screwing hussies all over town. The tennis instructor, for goodness sake. She can’t be older than twenty-two. Can you believe that?”

Her sob story doesn’t lift an ounce of pity from me. I scrounge up a halfhearted frown for her benefit. “Sounds positively wretched, Lianna. How did you cope?”

Her lashes flutter shut on an exaggerated sigh. “That’s a good question. I thought we were happy.” She sniffs and dives into a dramatic retelling of their marriage.

Keeping her talking is key, peeling off the layers to see what’s hiding underneath. Surprises during litigation are not my idea of fun. So, I nod along. I scribble a few notes. But the truth is I’ve done this song and dance more times than I can count. After being in this practice for over three years, I’ve realized divorce cases are all the same. Once I had a few under my belt, the rest began bleeding together. Not that I’m complaining. This woman sitting in front of me will be padding my pockets nicely, and there’s no use turning away easy money.

After I’ve filled a few pages in my legal pad, Lianna’s tale comes to an end.

She elegantly crosses one leg over the other. “So, what happens now?”

I tap my pen on the desk. “We build your case and prepare for negotiations.”

“There’s no way I’m backing down. I refuse to settle.”

“That’s good to hear. I rarely take no for an answer.”

Lianna pounds a bony fist against her palm. “I want to bring that man to his knees.”

I smirk at her. “That’s what they all say.”





Braelyn



Sugar



The air conditioner hums to life, pumping out a cool blast and making the store’s temperature bearable. My skin is balmy, making goosebumps rise when the chill wraps around me. It’s a rare occurrence that I don’t have to chase away the cold. That’s probably due to the fact I’ve been going nonstop since open. Unloading orders and stocking shelves keeps me moving.

Today has been a good one.

There’s no darkness clouding the edges of my vision. Terror isn’t holding me hostage. The nightmare from yesterday has lost intensity. I even feel a little light on my feet while stacking the extra inventory in the storage room. There’s a pep in my step as I walk to the front. I lean against the counter and take a moment to breathe.

The craze that typically clogs Maple Street is slowing down. I watch the occasional car leisurely pass by. Traffic is sparse, signaling the evening hour. The sun is already hiding behind the buildings. An expansive glow of orange and purple and yellow peeks out in every direction. Soon it will be dark, the shopping buzz fading, while partygoers begin to stretch their legs.