Page 90 of Stabby Little

"I need to pass the bar first." The redhead's friend pulls out her lipstick. "There's no guarantee on that considering I've flunked every practice exam so far."

"I thought they taught you how to ace that shit at Columbia."

"My rich uncle bribed the department head to get me in. They didn't admit me because of my grades."

"I need to make some new lawyer friends. I'll be shit out of luck if I rely on you to defend me."

"All I need to do is sound convincing in front of a jury. That's the most important task."

"I think knowledge of the law helps, but you do you."

"That's only a fraction of the equation. The rest boils down to showmanship."

"This isn't helping your case."

"I don't need to make a case. My Dad will bribe the exam administrator if I flunk so I'm passing the bar regardless."

"I want to sue you for malpractice before I even hire you. Is that a thing?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Of course you wouldn't."

"That's why I need to keep dating Carlton. He'll help me pass the right way."

"You don't need Carlton. You need a miracle."

"Remind me why we're friends again."

"Because we hooked up with the same guy freshman year and bonded over his micropenis."

"That was a rhetorical question."

"You wouldn't know rhetoric if it hit you in the ass."

The barista walks over to the ladies. "What can I get you, my lady?"

He runs his fingers through his neck beard. I make a mental note of this.

The redhead makes a face. "Did you just say… my lady?"

"I did." The barista bows. "At your service, your grace."

The redhead's friend preens. "I like him. He looks like he runs the concession booth at the Renaissance Fest."

The redhead turns away from the barista. "This dude is a joke.”

"You can get me a cappuccino," the redhead's friend begins, "but only if you put a heart in the foam. Can you do that? Did they teach you that in barista school?"

The barista bows again. "Of course, my lady. One cappuccino with heart foam, coming right up."

The redhead pulls out her phone. "I wish the paparazzi were here. They could document this dweeb for everyone to see."

"He's not a dweeb," her friend snaps. "In medieval times, he'd be the knight who rescues you from a burning turret."

"We're not in medieval times."

"I think he has a certain charm you're overlooking."

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