Page 21 of Tiny's Law

I swat his legs off from my desk. He drops his Prada-clad feet to the floor with a thud. “Cameras around the office, a security alarm, you know, the normal stuff.”

“The normal stuff. Jesus, Reggie. Why wouldn’t you have that stuff already? This is a nice office building but still, shit can happen even without my ‘type of clientele.’” I use air quotes for emphasis and roll my eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it.”

“Don’t send a man to do a woman’s job and all that,” Nash chuckles. “That’s what my wife says, at least.”

“Get out of my office, you two. If this is how you both are going to act, I’m hiring an office manager.”

Nash shrugs like it’s not a bad idea. “My wife would do it.”

“Would she?” Reggie asks, excited at the idea of someone running this place. “We could turn this place into a real law firm.”

“So it’s a fake one now? Shit, I better call my clients and tell them sorry, but I work for a fake law firm.”

“Fuck off, Kourt.” Reggie flips me off on his way out of my office.

Sitting down behind my large iMac, I type security into the search bar and click on places near me. A place called Desert Security pops up first, with five stars on their reviews. I type the number into the phone on my desk and put it on speaker, angrily buffing the mark from Reggie’s shoe as the ringback tone fills my office.

A young man's voice comes through the speaker a few seconds later. “Desert Security. This is Riley. How can I help you?”

“Hi, Riley! My name is Kourtney, and I’m calling to set up a new service.”

“Perfect, let me just open a new document and get some information from you.”

I answer all of his questions and hang up a few minutes later, satisfied that he said someone could come out this afternoon to take a look around the office.

Owen stops by with lunch, forcing me to take a break from rearranging things in my office and kick my heels off to eat my lunch on Reggie’s office floor.

“How are you settling in, Kourt?” Owen asks before taking a large bite of his Reuben sandwich.

“Well, Meatball has only tried escaping twice, so that’s a plus, right?”

Owen chuckles. “I guess we could call it a win then. How’s everything going with that case?”

I wipe the crumbs from my face and swallow before answering. “Good for now, I guess. The judge dismissed the initial charges since there wasn’t any evidence, and oddly, the victims haven’t pushed for more. I think the prosecutor must be busy, too, because I haven’t heard from him either. But surprisingly, I’ve already gained a few more clients.”

“Kourtney, someone from the security company is here to see you,” Nash calls from the hallway.

Reggie’s eyes widen and he pushes up from his desk. “Shit, that was fast.”

“Yeah, well, don’t send a man to do a woman’s job,” I mimic Nash’s earlier words while awkwardly pushing up from the floor, grace be damned. Wiping my hands on the front of my skirt, my eyes fly up at the deep chuckle coming from the doorway of Reggie’s office.

“Oh, it’s you.”

‘Oh. It’s you?’ God, you’re so stupid, Kourtney.

“It’s me,” Tiny nods with a smirk aimed in my direction. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“I… I…” I close my eyes, willing the floor to open and swallow me whole. It isn't often I’m struck speechless or fumble over my words. Get a grip, Kourtney. I stand up straight, slipping back into my heels and forcing my eyes to his. “The only person I’m expecting today is someone from the security company.”

Tiny points to the red embroidered logo on the left pectoral of his black polo. Desert Security. The right side simply says Nathan and Owner right under it.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he smirks again.

After a few awkward seconds and someone clearing their throat behind me, I snap out of my momentary stupor and smile up at Tiny, who, funnily, if I haven’t realized before, is absolutely not Tiny in any shape or form.

“Right. We can go to my office.”

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