Page 17 of Perfect Assumption
“They’re my best clients! No drama.” Carys shot a pointed glance at Becks.
“Well, you never know about those guys. They might surprise you,” Becks drawled.
Everyone laughed.
Carys and David were also adamant about stating they didn’t care if they had to shove through reporters each day to get to the office. “Hell, most of our clients will take this as a challenge to get their name in the paper by showing up at the office. Don’t you dare take it as one. You’re already in it too much as it is.” Carys stabbed her fork in Becks’s direction.
“You’re no fun,” Becks complained.
She threw a dinner roll at him that bounced off his head.
“How did you two ever manage to date one another?” I wondered aloud.
Carys and David began to laugh like hyenas. Becks rolled his eyes before admitting, “I guess it’s okay to let Angie in the know. We never dated. I was Carrie’s escort—no more.”
“Her escort?” I parrot.
“Yes. That one”—he pointed at David—“wouldn’t get his head out of his ass. Carys concocted a scheme to get him to notice her.”
“It worked,” David growled.
Carys smiled serenely before lifting her wine to her lips. Her eyes collided with mine before bouncing away. “It’s too bad Ward couldn’t join us for dinner.”
I snorted. “Why? So everyone could have indigestion?”
“Don’t like my brother?” Carys sounded amused instead of insulted.
“More the other way around. He barely tolerates me. So little, in fact, he can’t speak to me in the office. I swear, if they offered grunting as a course online, I’d take it so I could translate him.”
Both David and Becks began to choke. Carys rolled her lips inward and pressed them together tightly. My eyes narrowed. “Why do I feel like I’m missing some kind of in-joke?”
“You’re not. They’re only laughing because it’s a language they speak fluently. It’s called jackass.”
A rush of laughter burst out of me. Carys reached over and squeezed my hand.
Now, feeling her shudder in my arms, I can’t help but worry. “Was that about…me?” Could a reporter have got a hold of her cell number? Or worse yet—I shiver—someone from XMedia?
Carys delicately wipes beneath her eyes. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s just something I have to fix.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
“And the same goes for you, Angie. You’re not eighteen anymore, trying to prove someone’s guilt. You have a bevy of legal power at your back. We’re here if you need us.”
“The call just came from the doorman, ladies. Angie’s car is here,” David interrupts us.
I shrug into the coat Becks holds out. The three of them walk me to the door. Just as I’m about to leave, I pause. “Thank you. I couldn’t have anticipated this when I woke up today.” I try to get my thoughts in order. “It’s an honor to call you my friends as well as my colleagues.”
Then I race out of the condo before they notice the tears falling down my face.
On the ride back to Brewster, I’m almost lulled to sleep by the hypnotic lights, a full stomach, and warm feelings. That is until my female driver comments to herself in disgust, “God, women like the one who accused that man of rape and lied should be shot. She doesn’t realize how hard she made it for the rest of us to come forward.”
Yes, I do. I know exactly how hard it is.
Except it wasn’t rape. If it was, maybe they would have believed me.
I whisper a quiet “Thank you” when I exit the vehicle before I dash into the sanctuary of my home.
Stripping off my clothes, I race for the shower and begin scrubbing every inch of my body. My skin turns bright pink, and still I scrub harder. I feel like there’s slime crawling all over my skin. “And Sula wonders why I don’t have dreams?” I blubber. I don’t dare. It’s a level of vulnerability that lays your soul wide open for someone to heartlessly destroy it. I close my eyes against the spray of water as I duck my head beneath.
