Page 114 of Happily Never After

Claire made a mental note to track down his car at the studio and fill his backseat with their poo. Maybe even a bee hive. That would teach him.

“He left me,” she said. “He doesn’t get to be a part of their lives. Can he sue me for joint custody?” If this went to court, she would lose the dogs on top of everything. She couldn’t afford to hire a lawyer, and Kyle was sure to take Luke’s side.

Charlie cast a glance in Claire’s direction. “You’re spiraling. He’s not going to take your dogs, and he’d never take you to court.”

“Whatever.” Claire crossed her arms and stared out the window. This morning had been a rollercoaster of emotions. “Are you going to tell me where the hell we’re going? I have things to do, you know.”

“Do you?” Charlie looked at her over the rim of her oversized sunglasses. “I thought you were funemployed.”

“Do you want me to jump out of this car?” Claire put a hand on the latch.

“Stop being a drama queen. We’re almost there.”

As dire as her business and romantic life were, a new itch had been working its way under her skin. As Charlie had not-so-kindly pointed out, for the first time in years, Claire had a stretch of free time. A deep dive into ESA beckoned. They had taken everything from her, and she was going to make them pay.

“Where the hell are we?” Her thoughts of revenge came to a halt when Charlie parked outside a building with metal siding. A chain-link fence with barbed wire stood behind the business.

“Bash Bar,” Charlie said, pointing to the sign. “Did you lose your ability to read?”

Claire shot her a dirty look. “What is this place?”

“I do lunch here once a week,” Charlie said, twisting her curls into a knot at the back of her head. “I hope you put deodorant on today.”

Claire sniffed her armpit, then shrugged. Who cared? She had no clients, no boyfriend. She didn’t know anyone in this city besides Mr. Nesbit and the guys at the pizza place. And Brad, of course, who was effectively dead to her.

“Come on.” Charlie opened the front door.

Brilliant paint colors assaulted Claire’s eyeballs. Comic book style murals with callouts lined one wall. A bar stood to their left, a handful of patrons wearing safety goggles, white suits, and holding cocktails. A sledgehammer stood next to a redhead. A metal baseball bat rested across a man’s lap.

Claire’s spine tingled. What was this place? She ran a hand over the stained oak bar.

“Hey, Charlie. The usual?” The bartender, a bearded stud in an open flannel shirt, asked.

“Not today.” She glanced above the bar, where a series of signature cocktails were written in chalk. “We’re going to have two Ex-Boyfriends.”

The bartender nodded and picked up a cocktail shaker.

“So, did you bring me here to kill me?” Claire nodded at the patrons with weapons.

“Tempting, but no. This is a rage room.” Charlie grabbed two sheets from a stack of papers on the bar and slid one to Claire.

“Oh, wow.” She should have known. One had opened up in West Haven the week before they left for California. “What’s this?”

“A waiver. Don’t worry. I only get cut once every couple of weeks.”

“Great,” Claire said. Just what she needed. She signed the waiver and pushed it away from her without bothering to read it. Who cared what she had just signed away? Did she really need two kidneys?

Ten minutes later, Charlie pushed two drinks at Claire. “Hurry up. Our time slot is in five minutes.”

Claire set a golf club and tire iron on the empty stool next to her. The white safety suit was itchy against her skin, and the goggles pressed into her forehead. She took the drinks without comment and downed one in a few gulps. They were definitely strong. She probably should have checked to see if her new medication could be mixed with alcohol. Oh well.

Warmth spread to her fingertips, and she slouched in her stool. Things weren’t so bad. It was a beautiful, sunny day. She had all of her limbs. Her dogs were safe. Sure, she had been almost murdered a shocking number of times. Frat boys had blown up her car and burned down her business. Luke had dumped her. She had been fired from the biggest project of her career. Her ex-boyfriend had had to bail out the animal shelter she was supposed to be saving. She was failing on every level—personally, professionally, romantically.

Okay, never mind. Things were still awful. She downed the second drink for good measure, then followed Charlie across the room to a set of double doors. A man led them down a narrow hallway. They passed small rooms full of broken electronics. He held open one of the doors, and Claire entered.

A row of kitschy little girl figurines smiled eerily at her in a row on the floor. A stack of decorative plates stood next to them. Shards of glass glittered in every corner.

She took a step back and bumped into Charlie. She jumped.

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