drama-filled as it sounds. Emotions are so high when we’re that young, and then you add dope and alcohol and sex? The worst part was seeing bad shit happen and being powerless to stop it, because I couldn’t break character.” He shredded the paper napkin his drink sat on.
“That would be tough. Is that why you’re into so much therapy?”
“No.” He emptied his beer and looked at the dregs. “Therapy came into play when a bust went bad, and I was almost killed.”
K got chills up and down her spine. “Drugs?”
“Of course.” He stared into the empty glass, his voice hollow.
She waited, uncertain. Did she push, or change the subject? He looked anguished, as if, like her, he needed to purge a few memories.
“When did this happen?” she asked in soft tones.
“Over a year ago.”
“You couldn’t pass for a high school kid. Were you a teacher?”
“God no. I can’t spell for shit.”
She smiled.
“No, I was in college, playing the ultimate party animal. I was the man with the connections. The man on the scene. I supplied the kids with whatever they wanted. We were searching for the kingpin of a ring that had been selling tainted XTC. Kids were dying, suffering terrible hallucinations. Most deaths were caused by suicide of the victim trying to get the demons out of their head. One guy literally tore out his eyeballs.”
“That’s terrible.” She felt sick to her stomach at the image. “And you supplied this?”
He flinched, and she regretted her harsh question. “That’s how we traced the asshole. I got hold of some bad shit. We set up an elaborate sting, and one of the kids I’d befriended was killed. In the end, we closed them down, but the price was high.”
His voice trailed off, and K closed her eyes, offering him compassion. She pushed back from the table and got up, going around to give him a hug. “Thank you. I can only imagine the sacrifice you’ve made. Keeping drugs out of schools is important. Keeping the kids safe.”
He leaned into her for a moment before yanking her down in his lap. “Therapy. Department mandated. Anger management. When I found out that my friend was murdered, I lost my shit.”
She leaned her forehead against his. “Understandable. I, Karma Namaka Aneko, Esquire, understand. You’ve seen me lose my cool. The first person in my adult life to witness a break down. You’re a hero.”
“No. I’m not.” He closed his arms around her waist, holding her tight. “I’m just a guy. I like to shoot shit. Fish. Drink beer. Watch hockey.” He breathed out, his warmth tickling below her ear.
She shivered. “Sex?”
He shifted her on his lap and she sighed. Yes. He was into sex.
“You are hot as hell, you know that?”
She let her body rest against his, knowing he was strong enough to hold her. No courtroom clerk, Joe had muscles he honed on a daily basis. “You think? I was Miss Pineapple in high school.”
He laughed into her hair.
“It’s true. In order to get my scholarship, I had to participate in school activities. So I picked photography club, and somehow my picture caught the attention of the float directors and I was asked to be a pineapple.” She giggled at the memory. “I wore a pink bow in my hair and everything.”
“What color was your hair?”
“You don’t believe this is my natural color?”
Joe leaned back so he could look her in the eye. “No. It’s sexy, and I like it, but I don’t believe you were born with bleached hair.”
“Who knows what my mom was smoking? It could happen.” She sighed. “All right. I am actually Barbie Blonde and I dyed my hair brown for years to get rid of the stigma. But when I was in law school, I watched who won cases. I knew my targeted clientele—women who needed justice—and I knew I never wanted to be poor again. So? I sought rich women as clients, which meant I had to look the part.”
“Good strategy, K.”
“I thought so.” Now, to hope it pays off…
“Besides Paolo,
“That would be tough. Is that why you’re into so much therapy?”
“No.” He emptied his beer and looked at the dregs. “Therapy came into play when a bust went bad, and I was almost killed.”
K got chills up and down her spine. “Drugs?”
“Of course.” He stared into the empty glass, his voice hollow.
She waited, uncertain. Did she push, or change the subject? He looked anguished, as if, like her, he needed to purge a few memories.
“When did this happen?” she asked in soft tones.
“Over a year ago.”
“You couldn’t pass for a high school kid. Were you a teacher?”
“God no. I can’t spell for shit.”
She smiled.
“No, I was in college, playing the ultimate party animal. I was the man with the connections. The man on the scene. I supplied the kids with whatever they wanted. We were searching for the kingpin of a ring that had been selling tainted XTC. Kids were dying, suffering terrible hallucinations. Most deaths were caused by suicide of the victim trying to get the demons out of their head. One guy literally tore out his eyeballs.”
“That’s terrible.” She felt sick to her stomach at the image. “And you supplied this?”
He flinched, and she regretted her harsh question. “That’s how we traced the asshole. I got hold of some bad shit. We set up an elaborate sting, and one of the kids I’d befriended was killed. In the end, we closed them down, but the price was high.”
His voice trailed off, and K closed her eyes, offering him compassion. She pushed back from the table and got up, going around to give him a hug. “Thank you. I can only imagine the sacrifice you’ve made. Keeping drugs out of schools is important. Keeping the kids safe.”
He leaned into her for a moment before yanking her down in his lap. “Therapy. Department mandated. Anger management. When I found out that my friend was murdered, I lost my shit.”
She leaned her forehead against his. “Understandable. I, Karma Namaka Aneko, Esquire, understand. You’ve seen me lose my cool. The first person in my adult life to witness a break down. You’re a hero.”
“No. I’m not.” He closed his arms around her waist, holding her tight. “I’m just a guy. I like to shoot shit. Fish. Drink beer. Watch hockey.” He breathed out, his warmth tickling below her ear.
She shivered. “Sex?”
He shifted her on his lap and she sighed. Yes. He was into sex.
“You are hot as hell, you know that?”
She let her body rest against his, knowing he was strong enough to hold her. No courtroom clerk, Joe had muscles he honed on a daily basis. “You think? I was Miss Pineapple in high school.”
He laughed into her hair.
“It’s true. In order to get my scholarship, I had to participate in school activities. So I picked photography club, and somehow my picture caught the attention of the float directors and I was asked to be a pineapple.” She giggled at the memory. “I wore a pink bow in my hair and everything.”
“What color was your hair?”
“You don’t believe this is my natural color?”
Joe leaned back so he could look her in the eye. “No. It’s sexy, and I like it, but I don’t believe you were born with bleached hair.”
“Who knows what my mom was smoking? It could happen.” She sighed. “All right. I am actually Barbie Blonde and I dyed my hair brown for years to get rid of the stigma. But when I was in law school, I watched who won cases. I knew my targeted clientele—women who needed justice—and I knew I never wanted to be poor again. So? I sought rich women as clients, which meant I had to look the part.”
“Good strategy, K.”
“I thought so.” Now, to hope it pays off…
“Besides Paolo,
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