Page 22 of Getting the Grinder
“I’m right behind you.”
“You have plans tonight?”
“Dinner with Jana’s parents.”
I stand and grab my coat from the coat tree in the corner of our office. “Nice. You like them, right?”
“For the most part. Her dad has asked me at least fifteen times over family dinners why I bothered to go to law school to work at a job that pays less than seventy grand.”
I scoff. “He sounds delightful.”
Jayden grabs his suit coat from the back of his work chair. “Perks of our salaries being a matter of public record, I guess.”
“No, he’s being a dick.”
“We’ve beaten the subject to death, so hopefully it’s over. My fantasy football team kicked his team’s ass this year, so I try to steer the conversation toward that topic.”
I walk out of our office and he turns the light off, locking the door behind us. We used to have our own offices, but we work more efficiently sharing one.
“How about you?” Jayden asks on the walk to the elevator. “Got any plans?”
“I’m going to enjoy the quiet of my apartment. Maybe catch up on some Housewives.”
He cringes. “Jana loves that garbage, too.”
“Well, not all of us are highbrow enough to spend our downtime rooting for pretend football teams.”
“Okay, fair.”
The elevator doors slide open and we step inside, several other courthouse employees joining us. Once we’re on the first floor, Jayden waves and we head in separate directions. His fiancée, Jana, is a first-grade teacher, but I’ve only met her a couple of times. Jayden and I are friendly, but not friends, which is how I like it.
My coworkers have never seen me drunk and unfiltered, and I plan to keep it that way.
Light snow is falling when I walk outside. I button up my wool coat and pull my gloves out of my coat pockets, putting them on.
The crunch beneath my feet takes me back to a trip I took with my parents to Chicago when I was a kid. It was before our lives were upended, and I assumed all our days would be as magical as that one.
My mom loved the holiday window displays downtown, having visited them with her parents when she was growing up. We lived in Arizona, and I’d never seen snow other than in pictures.
I don’t think I stopped smiling once that day. The crunch of snow beneath my shoes as we walked, the magical holiday decorations and getting to ice-skate outdoors with my parents as holiday songs played created a core memory.
They took me into a toy store and let me pick out a new stuffed animal. I chose a white unicorn with a rainbow horn. If I saw it today, I’d probably break down in tears. Memories of the good times are bittersweet.
My old, rusted Chevy sedan is parked a block away today, and by the time I’m almost there, my nose is ice cold. I squint at my car when I see that the windshield has already been cleared of snow.
Must have been a random act of kindness. I reach my car, take out my car keys and am about to open my door when someone steps out of the Range Rover parked next to my car.
“Hey.”
The man’s deep-voiced greeting makes me look over. I’m surprised to see Leo standing there, dressed in jeans and a brown Carhartt coat.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
A smile plays on his lips. “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”
I wait for him to explain. He shifts, discomfort flashing over his expression.
“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I need to talk to you about something. Maybe we could talk over dinner.”
