"Fuck."
"On the bright side, you're not currently equipped to go to prison."
"How is that the bright side?" I scoff in disbelief.
He shrugs, "We don't even have to prove you didn't do it. Just that you're mentally unable to stand trial." He glances at his watch, "I've just about run out of time before they return. We'll be in touch."
Without another word, he slides his card onto my bedside table and ushers himself out the door, the brush of his too-long pants sliding across the floor with every step.
Chapter 4
Mingle
BRIGIT
"What are you up to this weekend, Brig?" Antoine asks as we clean up from the quarterly "check in" that the owners refuse to call a meeting.
Meeting just sounds so formal.We're just checking in.
It's boring, takes forever, and could just as easily have been a dozen one-on-one check-ins that would have taken less time.
But it's done now, and we have no time left to get much of anything done today. The banks are closing soon; nothing needs to be done that can't wait until Monday.
We'll all go back to our offices and pretend to work for another 20 minutes, then skip out the door to the weekend.
"I'm not sure yet," I lie. It's been weeks since my last trip to Mingle, and my skin is itching to go back.
I probably shouldn't get a kick out of people illegally beating each other to a pulp, but there's just something about the recklessness of it all. The pure, primal energy that fills a room when something so wild is happening right in frontof us.
I know more than a handful of people have used it as a backdrop for their sexual escapades. While it’s not something I’ve tried myself, there's no denying that the idea makes my blood race.
"Why don't you come out with us?" he raises a brow at me. "We were going to just go get a couple drinks, nothing crazy."
I hold back a chuckle, knowing ifanyonewas going to be a part of something crazy tonight, it would be me. "I don't believe you," the smile spreads at my lips anyway. "I know what you and Kelly have been getting into together."
"You do?" his face flushes. "Man, I told her not to say anything."
With a pat on his shoulder as I walk by, I assure him, "It's fine. I trust you not to do anything stupid that's going to cost me the best assistant I've ever had."
He nods frantically, "For sure." An awkward, heavy pause fills the room. "But like...whathas she told you?"
A laugh spills out of me before I can stop myself, "She just said you've been having fun together. And sometimes that fun finds you nearly getting caught with your pants down in a back alley."
"Jesus, Brigit,” his flush grows to his ears as he nervously wraps his hands around the back of his neck, likely praying for the ceiling to swallow him altogether. "Well, obviously I'm not inviting you to dothat."
"Obviously," I grin.
"And I'm like... forrealabout Kelly," he assures me, his shoes shuffling across the floor as he paces. "Likefor realfor real."
"Then what do you need me for? Go have fun with your girl," I gather the last of my papers, taking my sweet time. "I can entertain myself, I promise."
"You just seem, I don't know, lonely," he refuses to make eye contact as he says it, the conversation more bleak than I was hoping to have on a Friday afternoon, or ever. "We've worked together for three years and I've never heard you talk about a single friend or boyfriend or even family."
"You're my friend," I tell him earnestly. Heismy friend. I justdon't really know how to maintain that kind of relationship anymore. We see each other every day, and I genuinely root for him and hope he gets everything he wants out of this life, but is friendship dependent on how much time we spend together outside of work?
"Great!" he beams. "Now that that's settled, as my friend, I'm telling you that you need to get out and have some fun tonight."
I cough out a laugh at his insistence, "Antoine. I really shouldn't."
