What a Fool Believes by Carmen Green

enrolled in the class that begins tomorrow night at 7:30 p.m. at Reynolds High School. To register using a credit card only, please press two.”
    Tia disconnected the call, then redialed. Her fingers hovered over the 2. That was three hundred dollars. She needed that money for other important stuff.
    Like that cute Kate Spade purse she’d eyed on eBay.
    The judge’s words haunted her, as did Chance’s.
    She didn’t have a choice.
    Tia pressed TWO and entered her credit card number, then ran to the bathroom stall for a good cry. This better be worth it, she vowed as she hunkered over the toilet, relieving herself.
    The outer door opened and closed.
    â€œOf course I was serious about your niece working here,” Chance said into her cell phone. “I just have to clear up a personnel issue, and then we’re all set. Two weeks, tops.”
    Tia had stopped peeing midstream. She cringed at her only option and let her bare ass hit the seat. Quietly, she put her feet on the door and prayed she didn’t catch anything else communicable.
    â€œThe job will be vacant in two weeks. The idiot in it won’t last. Right, of course. I didn’t mean to offend you. Good-bye, Miss ...” Chance’s voice trailed off as she snapped her phone closed. “What was I thinking? Why did I say that? God, I’m in trouble. I’ve got to get Tia out of here, or I’m toast.”
    Tia strained as her butt started to slip on the seat.
    The outer door opened and closed with a hiss, and Chance was gone.
    Tia let her legs down and shot off the seat. She vowed to soak off the germs tonight, righted her clothes, and left the stall. Washing her hands, she was back at her desk in under a minute.
    She was the idiot Chance had been speaking of. Why had her job already been promised to someone else?
    Well, she wasn’t going to make it easy for Chance to fire her. In fact, she was going to be employee of the freaking year if it killed her.

Chapter Nine
    The corner of Tenth and Piedmont wasn’t a normal hookers’ hangout, but construction on Luckie Street had driven business in.
    The calls about the trash and activity had started coming in at midnight, an hour into Byron’s shift. He’d responded with increased patrols, sometimes flashing his lights, but as soon as he pulled away, they’d resurface, like cockroaches, and claim the corners again.
    Unsettled, he drove the streets, wishing everyone would just go home and go to sleep. That’s where he wanted to be. At home. Asleep.
    Alone. There wasn’t another option, considering he didn’t have anyone.
    That was cool, he reminded himself. His last girlfriend, Lynn, had driven him crazy with her suspicious, jealous ways.
    But she could cook. And she could make him lose his mind in bed. More than once he’d been glad for the half acre of space between his house and his neighbors. Or else he’d have had some explaining to do.
    He directed his patrol car up Fourteenth and down Piedmont Avenue, heading back toward the heart of the city.
    He and Lynn were over. For good. And no amount of reminiscing would change that. She was crazy. A drama queen with no throne.
    Months ago he’d made himself delete her number from his cell phone, but he still remembered it.
    His cell phone rang, surprising him.
    Lynn.
    Had he talked her up, or what?
    He hesitated over whether to answer, then pushed the phone icon. “Byron Rivers.”
    â€œYou sound just as sexy as ever. Hello, handsome.”
    Damn .
    She sounded like rain after a long drought. Her voice made him want to vacation in its sweetness for a hot minute. But this was Lynn. His ex for a reason. “What’s up, Lynn?”
    â€œMissing you. You been thinking about me?”
    â€œNot really,” he lied.
    â€œYou weren’t ever a good liar. That’s why I was always glad to use you as an expert witness. Juries believe you. I’ve been thinking