Page 3 of Unleashed

I grip the edge of the chest-high counter and shrug. I’ve practiced my standard answer for my coworkers about to bombard me with questions. “I tried another avenue in North Carolina, but it didn’t work out. So, I’ve returned to the belly of the beast.” I laugh as I nod and offer my hand to the other guard, who looks new. “Hey. I’m Greg Rodwell, returning paralegal and all-around screw-up.”

The blond, muscular behemoth shakes my hand, and I swear to Vanna White that he crushes no less than eight bones. “Ian Irwin. Nice to meet you, Greg.” I’m sure he’ll soon regret that. Everyone does.

After I’m official again, I keep my head down as I opt for the stairwell, since the lazy gossip fucks avoid it. My heart pounds as I walk upstairs, in no hurry to get there now. Nope. I still won’t give Amos the glory hole of being right.

Stopping at the second-floor door, I inhale, squeezing my right hand into a fist and gritting my teeth. What the fuck am I doing here so soon? I’m not ready to re-enter the white-collar workforce. I should’ve stayed in Durham. Even though I was a crappy bartender, I was far away from this old life of mine. No matter how much I hated that job, I want my other shitty life back.

“Fuck it.” Yanking the door open, I’m a hurricane blowing through it.

“Save me, Lord!” A flurry of papers flies upward like graduation caps and middle fingers.

“Whoa, Patrice,” Rhonda mumbles before looking my way. “Oh, my God.”

I laugh, approaching the reception counter while side-eying the left hallway. “Let’s not get our panties in a twist.”

Blushing, Rhonda purses her lips while Patrice scoffs. “No problem. I don’t wear any.” And there goes the rest of my life down the shitter.

“Uh, TMI,” I grumble with a frown she ignores.

Rhonda clears her throat, but her voice squeaks. “What’re you doing here? You moved.”

“Moved again.”

“Whose move is it now?” Patrice questions, picking up the strewn papers but not before inspecting both sides of each sheet, as if the flight jumbled all the words.

“Yours.” I lick my lips as I try to be chill. “Is Hadley in her office?”

Rhonda nods. Her disappointment is a muted foghorn. “Yes. Val isn’t in yet.”

“Thanks, Ronnie. It’s good to see you.” I take a deep breath before pushing off the counter.

Rhonda asks, “Are you here to stay?”

Watching Patrice building a sand castle one grain at a time, I answer, “We’ll see.”

Patrice stops her work. “We close at five.”

Rhonda giggles, but I shake my head before heading to Hadley’s office. I rap my knuckles on the partially open door. “Housekeeping.”

One familiar voice shrieks, “What?”

Another familiar and unwelcomed voice huffs, “Shit.”

I shove the door as sudden anger skyrockets into another galaxy. Shasta gapes at me like the goddamn bottom feeder she is. I laugh, but it’s not the ha-ha kind, but similar to Freddy Krueger, before slashing a throat.

Hadley stands, but she doesn’t move from around her desk. Shasta picks up a magazine and holds it against her plastic tits like a shield. She sidesteps and heads for the door as if I’m a friendly troll guarding a bridge. I kick the door closed and block the door handle. “Going somewhere, Pinocchio?”

She throws her fake nose into the air. “I’m tying up loose ends. It’s my last day here.”

“On the planet?”

Shasta rolls her eyes, but the tremor in her voice and the slight quiver in her hands betray her unmistakable fear. Hadley gawks at us like she’s unsure whether to defend Shasta or cheer me on. Shasta mutters, “Move out of the way, Roddy.”

“Don’t call me that. Did you think you’d get away with pinning me with Grant’s kid until she’s eighteen and then shrug your shoulders like it was no big deal?”

“That’s not what I planned. I thought you were the father, and then you believed it—”

“What the hell did you expect me to do?”

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