“You might be right.” His hardened gaze belied the easygoing tenor in his voice. “I’m so sorry.”
She took a deep breath, off-balance. His words didn’t match his expression, but maybe he had a natural jerkface. Everyone deserved the benefit of the doubt. After all, he hadn’t known who she was when he checked her out. In bad taste, yes, but maybe he panicked while on the back foot and—
“Sorryyoudon’t have a sense of humor.” He pantomimed her look of shock and made a low honking sound.
Holy shit. No more excuses. Sweat prickled her hairline. Her senses sharpened. A chorus of “Ramblin’ Man” rose from a passing car down on Main Street. Her mouth tasted like the unfamiliar brand of toothpaste she’d picked up at the Piggly Wiggly. A frothy bubble of spittle nestled in the corner of Judge Hogg’s sneering mouth.
Hehonkedat her.
Her body knew what was coming before her brain. Her arm flung out in a blur, snatching the Coke from his hand.
When she blinked again, the judge’s perfect hair was plastered to his broad forehead. Cola dripped from his chin.
Pepper glanced at the empty soda bottle. Did she just—
Yep. She did.
That drenched piece of human garbage staring in stunned surprise was supposed to be her boss. This wasn’t how she’d expected the morning to go, but God, did it feel good.
Elizabeth appeared at her elbow, horror stamped on her pretty features. “Oh! Oh my! What on Earth—”
He removed a handkerchief from his pocket and swiped his glowering face. “Miss Knight.” There was an edge to the way the judge spoke her name, as if he had carved it in his mind’s dark recesses. He glanced toward the dog park, where everyone swiveled their heads away in unison, acting natural, as if they weren’t putting up antennae to tune in to the conversation. “Take a good look at your future.” He crushed the ruined hankie in his fist and tossed it in the closest trash bin before straightening his tie. “You’ll never be accepted for another clerkship so long as I’m sucking air.” The Doberman’s eyes gleamed, twin black pools of doom.
“Yeah? Well the eighties called and want their hair back.” Pepper spun on her heel and dropped the empty Coke bottle into the recycling bin on the way. The eighties? That’s what she went with?
She walked fast, Elizabeth’s heels clipping along behind, but it wasn’t until she reached the statue of Davy Jones that the enormity of the situation crashed on her head like a cartoon anvil. She halted, grinding fists into her eye sockets so hard blue stars cascaded past. She looked up into the dog’s one-eyed bronze face.
What. Had. She. Done?
Her heart tripped. Her teeth chattered.
“Are you okay?” Elizabeth asked quietly.
“That back there, that’s not who I am. I have common sense. I respond promptly to RSVPs and yield my subway seats to the elderly. But he honked at me. Hehonkedat me. Too bad I didn’t have a two-liter.”
“Whatever he did, you can be sure he had it coming.”
“The funny thing is, I could have sworn today was my lucky day.” Her palms dampened. A solution must exist. She was strong. Resourceful. She’d clawed out of Moose Bottom and reached New York on her own gumption. That plastic-faced intimidator wasn’t going to be her Waterloo.
