“Oh my God! They’re totally naked!” Fiona cried, rushing back out, waving a hand in front of her face.
Damn, that woman deserved an Oscar!
Allegra – October 2021.
“He’s claiming mental trauma,” Damon Spalding, my lawyer, claimed.
“Is he? Do I look fussed?” I demanded.
“You did steal his clothes and leave him bare-assed in the office,” Damon replied.
“Is that a crime? Tell him he won’t get a penny from me; I’d rather give it all away and do time before he does. However, now I want half of everything, just to be a bitch. He cheated on me. I didn’t betray him.”
Damon sighed. “I warned his lawyer.”
“It was our anniversary. Clint was screwing his secretary on our anniversary. Can you imagine the anguish and trauma from that? I clearly wasn’t in my right mind when I took those clothes. Hell, I don’t even recall doing that.”
Damon rolled his eyes at me. Not very professional, but hey, we’re cousins. “He lost his job.”
“I couldn’t work because I was so distressed at seeing his pasty white ass pounding her skinny butt.”
Damon roared with laughter before composing himself.
I leaned forward. “I was prepared to walk away. Now he wants to be a motherfucking prick, so can I. Screw him for every cent. I’ll get my medical records released to you. They show the countless hours of therapy and the antidepressants I’ve had.”
Damon narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you’re good!”
“I’m a fuckin’ Spalding, cousin, of course I’m good.”
Chapter Two.
Allegra – May 2022.
Divorced at last. Clint had dragged shit out as much as he could, and then Damon proved multiple affairs. Five in the space of a year. Three at the same time! Damn, Clint had been busy. Damon’s PI had also unearthed evidence that Clint had married me for the Spalding fortune.
Worse, Clint’s long-term mistress (LTM, as I fondly called her) had admitted the entire plan to a rather handsome private investigator from Hawthorne’s PI. A few drinks, some false flattery, and LMT was putty in his hands. The judge had given me half of everything, and Clint had broken up with LTM. I was damn lucky we hadn’t had kids. God, that would have been a real nightmare and tied us together for life.
I glanced at my watch and cursed. Late, late, late. I hoped the leather store would still be open. I’d ordered Gramps’s gift a couple of days prior and needed to collect it today. But yeah, as usual, my sense of timing was off. I’d picked up an extra shift that was supposed to have ended an hour ago, but hadn’t. FML. Why couldn’t volunteers arrive when they agreed to?
I raced into the building, which had a multitude of shops, and looked for the leather one. I’d never been here before, though I’d been curious about it.
Did they have a map? Nope. Of course not. Why would they? That would make my life easier. If I didn’t get Gramps’s gift tonight, then I’d be in everyone’s bad books again. That was not unusual.
My family was a nightmare. Gramps was funny, a working-class man who’d made a fortune. Nana was the same. Both of them were down to earth. So, explain to me how the hell they’d managed to have four arrogant sons, including my father. And from those stuck-up assholes sprang eight grandsons and me. And not a single one of the second generation had a stick up our ass. Gramps thought it hysterical, while our parents failed to understand our lack of assholeness.
There was a formal family meal tonight, and we were giving Gramps his presents. If I didn’t have mine, I’d be in huge trouble. However, Saturday night would be a freaking blast. The grandchildren were taking the grandparents to a LGBTQ club. One of my cousins, Aubrey, was a famous drag queen, and the community was holding a charity event. Naturally, Aubrey’s parents had disowned him in a fit of shock.
We all had tickets to support Aubrey, and it was usually a fun night out. Especially if he got Thatcher, my brother, up to sing with him. But alas, first we had to sit through the stuffy dinner while we plotted chaos.
“Shit,” I muttered as I realised I’d raced around the bottom floor and not paid any attention.
Someone chuckled near me, and I glanced up. “Sorry! Hey, can you help? Any idea where the leather shop is?”
“Next level up, in the corner,” a guy replied.
“Thanks!” I gasped and took off.
I spotted it just as a bloke in jeans and a cut locked the door. “Excuse me! I’m so sorry! I’m a little late, but I have to collect an order.”
