Page 159 of A Dead End Wedding

I dropped my purse and briefcase on my desk. "Great. Just great. Well, look on the bright side. If he drops in, we can sic Gina on him."

"Very funny. I told her how to get in touch with the police. I don't think this is anything to joke about," Max said, giving me a disapproving look.

"I don't think so, either. But what can I do? Add him to the list of people out to get me, I guess. Listen to this," I said, then filled her in on the morning's activity.

"They actually called you the stupid Ohio lawyer?" Max shook her head. "That's awful! Although, I have warned you about that suit. Especially since it matches your car now."

I groaned. "Don't remind me. Did you get that appointment for car painting?"

"They quoted me five hundred dollars, and I wanted to be sure you wanted to spend that much before I set the appointment," she said.

I groaned again. "I can't afford that right now. I'm wondering how we'll keep the electricity on, to be honest. Plus, we have to pay that invoice from the toxicologist at some point."

Sinking down into my chair, I tried doing mental calculations in my head, but nothing was adding up to enough money to meet payroll. "We have to find some paying clients soon, Max."

She perched on the edge of a chair across from me. "Right. But with this junkie label hanging over you, and all the violence, which everybody hears about on the scanner, nobody wants to hire you. We're in a tough place, D. We're not even going to meet payroll soon, at this rate."

I stared off into space for a long minute, then forced myself to snap out of the doom and gloom. "So, tell me. What is Gina doing here?"

Max brightened. "Right. We need to hire her."

I blinked. "We have no money; we can't meet payroll; we need to hire another employee. Is this beauty queen math?"

Thirty minutes and two or three rib-cage twinges later, I surrendered. It turns out Max and Gina had chatted and found out that Gina had gone to school with some cousin of Max's, so that practically made her family to Max in that incomprehensible "everybody is my relative" way that Southern girls have. (I'd been on the receiving end of a lot of kindness because of Max's "adopting" me when I was in high school, so I wasn't knocking it. I just didn't quite understand it.)

Anyway, Gina hated the inpatient facility. Her lawyer'd worked out some deal so she could attend outpatient rehab, as long as she could prove she'd found gainful employment.

Just call me Gainful.

Unpaid, maybe, but gainful.

"Why doesn'thehire her?" I muttered rebelliously, sounding a lot like Emily's daughter Joker when she didn't get her way.

Max glared at me. "Now you're being childish. If you're talking about her attorney, he said it wouldn't fly since he represents her. If you're talking about Jake, he didn't want to build into her delusions about him any further."

My ears perked up at Jake's name. "So, Jake was here?" I tried to sound nonchalant, but from the look on her face, I failed miserably.

"No, he called. Look, are you going to hire her or not?"

I sighed. "Fine. As a favor to you. But you keep her out of trouble, and you supervise her. If she shows the slightest sign of going bat poop on us, she's gone."

Max jumped up and backed out of the room, probably afraid I would change my mind. "Right. No problem. I'll send her in to talk to you," she said, then practically ran off down the hall.

"Wait!" I didn't want to talk to Gina. I didn't want Gina near any sharp objects, for that matter. I grabbed my letter opener and shoved it in an open drawer. I'd already been chased around my office by one employee wielding a sharp weapon. Once was enough.

Been there, done that, almost got the stab wounds.

Gina walked into my room, still watching me with that wary expression; still saying nothing.

I gestured to a chair, and she sat down across from me. "Okay, Gina, we're going to help you out here. You can give Max all the credit for this, because it's not really my habit to go around hiring people who threaten me. But she assures me you're past all that, and that you will work hard and be responsible. No stabbing people, for example. That's definitely in the employee manual. Page thirty-seven, I think."

A little smile flickered at the edges of her lips, which gave me hope. If a person has a sense of humor, she can survive anything. Well, maybe except bullets. Or stabbings.

But she can survivemostthings.

Gina finally spoke, but her voice was so soft I could barely hear her. "Thank you. I'm sorry about calling you and yelling at you that time. My head was in a terrible place. Jake and me are just friends, anyway."

"What about painting my car?" I asked, playing a hunch.

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