Page 9 of Corporate Escapades

“Stay here,” said Vic as he barreled through the door and nearly tripped over Paris, who was still crouched on the ground. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his face turning crimson. “Oh. My. God. Are those her boots? Paris! What the hell?”

At the mention ofher boots, Meagan, wrapped in the sheet, came bounding into the hall. “You know this woman? Is she seriously trying to steal my boots? I’m calling the police!”

“Now, hold on,” said Vic. “Do we really need to bring the police into this?”

“She’s trying to make off with my thirteen-hundred-dollar boots!” shrieked Meagan. “It took me forever to talk my husband into buying them!”

Paris couldn’t find her words. Her mouth hung open as she stared at Vic, who was completely naked, and only two feet away from where she sat on his floor. She had to admit, the guy hadit going on. He donned a six-pack and a solid five inches flaccid. She couldn’t tear her eyes away.

Realizing she was staring at him; Vic walked back into his bedroom and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. “Better?” he asked. “I think this,” he said, motioning to his body, “is the least of your worries.”

“Yes, I need an officer sent over immediately,” Meagan said into her phone. “What’s your address?” she asked Vic.

“2100 Primrose Garden Place, Building A, Unit 1201,” he said. Continuing to scowl at Paris, he motioned for her to stand.

Meagan hung up the phone and looked at Paris. “The police are coming for you. You’re so screwed. What kind of idiot tries to steal another woman’s shoes while she’s in the room? I don’t know who you think you are, but you’d better get yourself a damned good lawyer. Thief!”

Not knowing how to respond, Paris said, “Yeah, well, at least I’m not a slut!”

Meagan let out a growl and lunged at Paris. Pulling away, Paris hauled back and punched her smack dab in the center of the nose, which made Meagan yelp and hit the ground with a loud thud.

“You, bitch!” Then, gasping for air, she said, “Oh, my God. I think you broke my nose! What will I tell my husband?”

Trying to calm her, Vic picked Meagan up and led her into the living room, leaving Paris standing in the hall once again, with her mouth agape. She’d never hit anyone before. This was not good.Why’d I hit her?Paris groaned. Backing up, she leaned against the wall. She didn’t know what to do. She could go to her place, but most likely, the police would simply follow her there. Paris didn’t want to cause any further trouble, so she stayed put.

Five minutes passed, and two officers arrived at the condo. Visiting Meagan first, they got her side of the story and then came back to ask Paris for her version.

“Mrs. Heathrow is accusing me of stealing her boots,” she said. “I didn’t steal them.”

“Um, miss, are those the boots in question?” asked the officer closest to her. He was sporting an impressive handlebar mustache.

Looking down, she realized she was still holding the boots in her left hand.Great.

“Yes, but I haven’t left the apartment with them. I’m not planning to leave the apartment with them, so technically, I haven’t stolen anything,” replied Paris.

“Did you attack Mrs. Heathrow? She says you broke her nose,” chimed the second officer, who was none-to-happy about her response. His face looked as if it were stuck in a permanent scowl.

“She attacked me, and I defended myself,” said Paris. “I hit her out of reflex.”

“I don’t see any marks on you,” said handlebar-mustache.

“No, because I defended myself before she could hurt me,” said Paris through gritted teeth.

“Have you been drinking?” asked the scowling officer.

“Seriously! If you’re planning to arrest me, just do it already!” yelled Paris.

“Our pleasure,” replied the scowling officer. “Read her, her rights,” he told handlebar-mustache while he proceeded to place the handcuffs on Paris’s wrists.

Vic reappeared in the hallway and, taking in the situation, said, “Whoa, is this necessary? I mean, she really didn’t mean to hurt Meagan.”

“Oh, really?” spouted Meagan. “They should arrest you too, you jerk!”

“Now, now, Mrs. Heathrow. Let’s calm down,” replied handlebar-mustache. “Vic, we have to take her in. We have her on attempted theft, breaking and entering, and assault andbattery. If you want to bail her out, you’ll have to come down to the station.”

“This is my home; don’t I get a say? She didn’t really break in,” said Vic. “The door wasn’t exactly locked, and she lives next door.”

“Sorry, kid, we still have her on assault and theft,” replied handlebar-mustache as he led Paris toward the door.

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