“Well…” I replied, wincing.
“Does she like you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like her?”
“Yes.”
“Make sure she doesn’t want to get rid of you tonight. Keep her close. Take her to dinner. Buy her some drinks. Do something. Just don’t let her out of your sight.”
“Gotcha, buddy. Text me the details and keep me updated. I’m going to get Race and head out. Thanks for your help.”
“I’ll message you later, after I figure everything out and get it all set up. Remember, only worry about your client.”
“Shit’s easier said than done,” I said as I walked toward the door.
Just then there was a small knock. “Jimmy,” Izzy said in a low tone.
“Looks like you better lock your door.” I opened the door to my cousin, who was standing there with her fist up and about to knock.
“Hey, Morgan.”
“Iz,” I greeted her. “Go easy on him.”
“If we don’t come out in thirty minutes, call the paramedics,” she said as she walked past me and into his office.
“I’ll let you two have some time alone.”
“Thanks,” James said, looking around Izzy. “Lock the door, love,” he said as the door started to close.
I shook my head, wondering how I was the only person in the office not getting any at-work action. Then again, I was the only one in the office who wasn’t attached.
“Race,” I called out as I opened the door and walked into my office, ready to head outside. My heart jumped into my throat when I noticed the couch empty—Race was gone.
I marched into the waiting room where Angel sat, fixing her makeup in a small compact mirror. “Where is she?” I asked, squeezing my fists at my sides.
“She just walked out a minute ago. She needed some air,” Angel replied, wiping the corners of her lips.
“Fuck,” I muttered, smashing through the front doors in a panic. “Race,” I called out as I looked around, shielding my eyes from the sun.
She was standing next to Elvira, her pale skin whiter than normal. She didn’t reply, just stood like a statue looking down.
“Race,” I repeated as I jogged toward her. “What’s wrong?”
She pointed toward the ground. “Elvira,” she whispered.
Someone had slashed my tires. Each one had huge punctures, and enough air had seeped out of them that they were practically flat.
“Fuck!” I yelled, feeling my chest tighten. I wasn’t upset about the car. It was just an object. If she had come out just a few minutes earlier… I couldn’t think about it.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, clutching her neck. “It’s all my fault.”
“It’s just a car,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm as I put my arm around her. “It can be fixed. It’s not your fault.”
She held a tiny piece of paper out. “Yes, it is. Look.”
“‘You can’t save her. Keep your nose where it belongs,’” I read out loud, pulling her closer to me.
