“I’m not a vampire.”
“You may not suck blood, but you do suck.”
I fight a sigh of disappointment. I deserve whatever insults she chooses to hurl at me. “I do suck, and I’m here to make it up to you.”
Her fingers drum the edge of the door. “Someone’s optimistic.”
“Hear me out, please. If you don’t like what I have to say, feel free to boot me from your house.”
“Wearing an actual boot?”
“If you feel so inclined. My ass can take it.” Not so sure about my heart though.
To my great relief, she takes a reluctant step back and ushers me inside. “You have five minutes to plead your case, counselor.”
“Not a litigator,” I remind her, and then immediately shut the hell up before she changes her mind and slams the door in my face. This is my one shot to make things right and I refuse to blow it.
“Step into my office, please.”
I follow her through a living room that manages to be both spacious and cozy, to a smaller room with no door. The walls are plastered in framed movie posters, including Return of the Jedi and Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers. A row of bobbleheads line the edge of a desk. I feel a strange sense of pride when I realize that I recognize most of them. I’ve come a long way since I first met Cricket.
I point to the Jedi poster. “Did you know the movie was originally called Revenge of the Jedi? Lucas changed it late in the game.”
“And later used ‘Revenge’ in Revenge of the Sith. I’m aware.” Unimpressed, she sits behind a desk in a tall wooden chair that resembles a rustic throne. The design is vaguely familiar, and it takes me a second to realize it was inspired by The Hobbit. She motions for me to sit, but the only arguable piece of furniture I see is a Baby Yoda beanbag chair.
It’s impossible to appear calm and cool as my butt lands in the soft material and sinks. Cricket bites back a smile.
“What brings you to darken my doorstep now that the twenty-one days left on the lien have come and gone?”
“I’d like to offer you an official update.”
Her shoulders tense, but she forces an interested smile. “I’m all ears.” She flicks the pointy end of one.
The beanbag chair starts to lean to the right, and I shift left to counteract the move. “It took a bit of brainstorming, but I came up with an idea that would satisfy LandStar without hurting you or the camp.”
Her jaw sets. “You’re a lawyer, not a magician, Mr. Thorpe.”
“Please don’t call me Mr. Thorpe or I’ll think my father is in the room with us.”
“Your father is always in the room with you, whether he’s physically present or not.”
I can see I have my work cut out for me, but I anticipated this. I don’t blame her for any hostility. I showed up at her camp under false pretenses and took time to come clean. I hid an important document that I found in her office and my decision nearly lost her the camp. I’d have to earn back her trust, which I am more than willing to do. Whatever it takes. I hope my next statement helps to bridge that gap.
“LandStar has been set on your land because it seemed like the right spot to implement his vision.”
“And?”
I feel my excitement rise, as high as when I first developed the plan. “So I found another plot of land that’s more in alignment with that vision.”
“Then you got your big promotion. Congrats.” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “I know how important that was to you.”
“Not nearly as important as you.”
“Be real, Charlie.”
“I didn’t finish.” I topple to the side and abandon Baby Yoda. Popping to my feet, I tell her the news. “I didn’t get the promotion. Matt did.”
“Why would they make that slimeball partner instead of you?”
