Page 80 of Doozer

The judge regained his footing, letting go of my right arm, before stabilizing himself on the railing.

“One more pull and you’ll be over,” I said.

“I told you, I’m not going to jail,” he said, producing a blade and plunging it into my shoulder.

I reared back in pain, unable to keep hold of the judge and even though I tried to reach for him again, he was already plummeting toward the pavement below.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Trouble

“ATTENDANCE IS MANDATORY,” Taxi said, after informing us we had been invited to the annual Marine Ball happening in four days.

I wasn’t a dress kinda gal, ergo, I didn’t own one, let alone a ball gown, and I had no interest or intention of complying with this bullshit edict. I raised my hand. “Tax—”

“Mandatory,” he growled, and leaned in from his place at the head of the conference table. “Black tie.” He stood. “Mandatory.”

Stalking out of the room, he pulled the door closed with a TWAP behind him and I dropped my head to the table. “No,” I whined to the floor. “No, no, no, no.”

“Jette and Trouble,” Dr. Fenton called out as the rest of my team let out varied versions of ‘fuck.’

“Just kill me,” I said, again to the floor.

“It’s not all bad,” Jette countered. “Any excuse to buy a new dress…”

“Ladies.”

I raised my head and scowled at Dr. Fenton. “I’m no lady.”

Dr. Fenton grinned. “Come on, you two. You’re with me.”

“Where are we going?” Jette asked.

“Shopping,” Dr. Fenton replied.

“Nope,” I snapped, with an emphasis on the ‘P.’ “I’m not going.”

“Mandatory,” Dr. Fenton parroted, her face hiding the smile her eyes couldn’t.

“Why?” I cried. “It’s not like I have anyone to impress.”

“It’s not about that,” Dr. Fenton said.

“Then why can’t I just go in my kutte?”

Jette gave me a look of horror and I rolled my eyes.

“Come on,” Dr. Fenton repeated. “We’ve got the whole afternoon to find you a dress, shoes, and accoutrement.”

“I don’t have the money for a dress, shoes, and whatever that word means,” I pointed out.

“Good thing you’re not paying,” she retorted.

“What? No.” I waved my hand. “I’m nobody’s charity case.”

“Stephanie Palmer, you get your booty in my car, pronto, or I’m gonna sic Boots on you,” Dr. Fenton warned and Jette burst out laughing.

“Shut it, Jette.”

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