Pepper turned, and two kids, the girl in a full-skirted pirate getup, the boy in artfully ragged breeches, froze on identical scooters. Their chubby pink-tinged cheeks offset tawny skin, and matching skull-and-crossbones hats perched on top of their thick, black curls.
“Ahoy there, mateys.” It sounded like she’d been sucking helium. She cleared her throat, striving for a more natural tone. “Don’t you two look cute.”
The little girl scratched the side of her nose. “Mama’s using us as models—”
“For the Village Pillage ad.” The boy fiddled with his eye patch. “She works for Mayor Marino’s office, and we gotta beat Hogg Jaw—”
“Village Pillage?” Any distraction from the canine chorus was welcome. Even if it meant hanging out with kindergarteners.
“Memerating Cap’n Redbeard—”
“And Everland’s true claim to the lost treasure.”
Deciphering hieroglyphics might be easier than understanding those last sentences. Pepper frowned. “You mean commemorating?”
“And Mama promised us ice cream afterward if we smile real good.” The girl bared her teeth in an overwide grin or grimace, hard to say which. “Two scoops of Superman flavor for me and mint chip for Will. Daddy said it was bribery, but Mama calls it in-cent-i-vi-zing.” She pronounced the last word with careful enunciation.
“Mint chip is one of my favorites, too.” Thank God, her ploy worked. The dogs were losing interest the longer they chatted.
“Why do you talk funny?” Caution crept into the little boy’s voice, presumably William.
“You mean my accent? Well, see, I’m from Manhattan.” A five-year-old had burned her, but who cares? The longer she rambled in the street, the better the chance that awful barking might eventually stop. “Lower East Side. At least that’s where I feel that I’m from. I was born in Moose Bottom, Maine, a place even smaller than here, if you can believe that. Located between Podunk and Boondock. No joke. And that’s not taking into account Boonie to the south or Timbuktu to the west.”
The children’s mouths hung open.
Had she spoken too loudly? Too friendly? Too weird? She had no experience chatting up small people. Kids might as well be aliens from the planet Crayon Gobbler, but these two saved her from a public panic attack. She’d had to suck it up and owe them one.
“William John! Katydid!” An elegant black woman appeared on the top step of an ivy-covered house on the corner. Her tailored fuchsia wrap dress popped against her skin’s rich bronze, and her long dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. “Get your scrawny behinds back here and brush your teeth. Ah, ah, ah!” She held up a hand, a diamond catching the sunlight. “Don’t go telling me that you already did because your toothbrushes aren’t wet. Let’s go, let’s go, we’re not going to be late, I’ll tell you that much for free.”
“Aw, man!”
“Coming, Mama!” The siblings shot Pepper a last lingering look before pushing off on their scooters, whispering as they powered toward the crosswalk.
She gave the woman ajust passing by, I’m a friendly new-in-town stranger who is not trying to kidnap your sweet childrenwave. The tentative gesture was met with a distracted smile.
Pepper tucked the corner of her shirt back into her skirt, swallowing an envious lump as the woman reset her Bluetooth earpiece and disappeared inside the magnificent home. Fat chancesheate a Pop-Tart for dinner. Imagine having a big house. Cute kids. Effortless fashion sense. The total package.
Must be nice.
Someday she’d meet Mr. Right. One teeny tiny clerkship in Georgia and she’d be off to bigger and better things back in New York. At this very moment, her true love might be staring out his corner office with sweeping views of the East River as inexplicable longing compresses his chest. “You’re out there,” he’d mutter, slamming a fist against his open palm. “Out there somewhere. And I shall find you, my dearest darling.”
Sooner or later, their gazes would connect in a crowded intersection and boom, a part of her soul would lock into his and that would be it. Cue the balloon drop. Blazing meteoroids. Unicorns dancing the fox trot. Rainbows—make thatdoublerainbows—bursting over the cityscape. She’d plan a wedding in the Hamptons, stop hitting snooze on her biological clock, and have her own perfect life.
Yeah.
Someday…
But on the bright side,right nowshe was finally heading in the right direction. A statue of Lady Justice rose from the end of the street, keeping watch over the Scooter B. Merriweather Courthouse, armed with a sword, balance scales, and a fierce resting bitch face. Pepper flashed her a thumbs-up. Ahead, her reflection beamed off the courthouse’s glass front door, projecting the image of—
Oh. Schnikey.
Desperate times called for a discreet bang fluff. Taming these frizzy, more-brown-than-blond locks into an A-line bob was a battle at the best of times. Georgia humidity required full-scale war with a leave-in conditioner offensive followed by a barrage of mousse, a wide-toothed comb, professional-grade blow dryer, and straightener.
God as her witness, she refused to sport flyaways on her first day. She smoothed her part, shifting left and right, checking for VSL—visible Spanx lines—a real and present danger as her skirt warped and wrinkled.
Wrenching the door open, she stumbled beneath the rotunda, stifling a relieved moan. Got to credit the South’s mastery of the fine art of air-conditioning. The wall directory listed Human Resources on the second floor, down the hall from her new boss, the Honorable Aloysius P. Hogg. Judge Hogg maintained a notorious reputation on the law clerk circuit. Whispers hinted that he didn’t interview for a Monday-through-Friday job, but expected seven-day-a-week indentured servitude, including all public holidays.
On her way upstairs, the brass handrail cooled her damp palm. This wasn’t a dream job, but no one hired professional cupcake testers. And this year of dues paying in Nowheresville, USA, would land her back in Manhattan with a real shot at making junior partner with Kendall & Kline Associates, an elite corporate law firm with an impressive starting salary and more impressive annual bonus.
