I haven’t even attempted this in months. Not seriously, anyway. I’ve been getting by on the rent from the building in town and the few jobs Eddie has thrown my way, but getting by and getting ahead aren’t the same thing. I need a sale. I need the commission. Hell, I need a reminder that I still know how to do something besides survive.
But things have been better lately. Or better adjacent, anyway. There have been moments with Eddie that almost make me forget what it feels like to have a target painted on my back. Almost.
But outside my small, fragile pocket of safety, Sparkwood is still Sparkwood.
And she isn’t always pleasant.
A couple of local realtors, women I’ve known for the better part of a decade, stand near the refreshment table pretending to admire the spread while they glare at me over their wineglasses.
“I can’t believe she’s here,” one hisses, ensuring I hear every word. “Doesn’t she remember what her husband did? If I were her, I’d never show my face around town again.”
Really, Pam? That’s your take?
I turn my head and catch her shooting daggers at me, and for one glorious, reckless second, I consider giving her the tongue-lashing she deserves.
What sweet, darling Pam fails to remember is that everyone has skeletons, and I have receipts with her name on them.
You want to talk about spouses behaving badly? Fine. Let’s talk about that real estate conference two years ago. You remember the one, Pam? The one where everybody saw you cozying up to the head broker in the hotel bar, despite the minor inconvenience of your wedding ring.
The words press hot against the back of my teeth, but I swallow them, because I know how it will end. Apparently, I’m supposed to stand here and take their abuse, simply for daring to exist in society.
Screw this shit. Screw the sale. I’ll figure out another way.
Because if one more person says anything about me—hell, if they so much as chirp out a cheerful hello—I’ll crack straight down the middle and leave my dignity splattered all over these gorgeous hardwood floors.
I set my glass of water down a little too close to Pam’s elbow and offer her a brittle smile. “Nice seeing you again,Pam.”
Fine, I’ll admit it. Her startled jump gives me a mean sparkof satisfaction. But she’s not worth it. I know this, and luckily for her know-it-all ass, she does, too.
So I turn and walk out before either of us can muster another word.
The second I step outside, the cold air hits my face like a slap. I suck in a breath so deep that it almost hurts, as if I might be able to purge the whole miserable encounter from my lungs.
Time to go. Retreat to safety.
I’m halfway down the front path when my phone starts ringing inside my purse. I yank it out and glance at the screen. My lawyer.
Please let it be good news, universe. I could really use a damn break.
I answer on the third ring. “Hi, Mr. Jones. Calling to tell me I’m a single woman?”
There’s a brief pause before he clears his throat. “Not exactly.”
I freeze on the walkway, my fingers tightening around the phone. “What does that mean,exactly?”
Turns out, Mr. Jones didnothave good news for me. In fact, he had the worst fucking news I’d heard all day, and that’s saying something, considering the day I’ve had.
I storm through the entrance to the federal detention facility with one mission: to talk some sense into my soon-to-be ex-husband, even if it means beating it into him.
Fucking Drake.
The rage boiling in my gut cools as I reach the metal detectors where I have the joy of emptying my pockets, tossing mypurse and keys into the gray plastic bin shoved at me. You’d think I was hiding a bomb in my bra with the way the detention officer scans my body, and if that weren’t enough, a quick pat down, just for fun.
The second they’re done, my patience is gone.
They lead me down a cinder-block corridor into the visitation room, a space more bleak than I expected. Plastic chairs bolted to the floor face each other across a scarred table, fluorescent lights casting a sickly haze over it all. The room is devoid of warmth, devoid of anything human.
I barely have time to sit before the door opens again.
