Page 93 of Tequila Tuesdays

“My name is Raina Fletcher. I’m an investigating DCFS worker. Are you her mother?” she asked me, pointing at Bertie.

“No. My name’s Harley Emerson, Shanda’s public defender. Shanda’s not a minor, so she’s not under DCFS jurisdiction.”

Shanda explained to the worker what had happened.

Damien stared at Shanda when she finished. “That fucker punched you in the stomach too?” Shanda looked like she wanted to cry, and he leaned over and squeezed her shoulder.

Just then Officer Schroeder and her partner came around the corner with Mikey in handcuffs. He was swearing and stumbling. It didn’t look like his interview had gone well. Good. I hoped the fucktwit spent some quality time in jail.

I pulled Shanda aside. “Are you going to be okay?”

She looked at Bertie. “Yeah. I’m glad DCFS is involved now that I’m eighteen and they can’t do shit to me. I’ve been worried thinking about Bertie here alone with that asshole and his friends.”

Shanda took Bertie from me and sighed. “I don’t think my mom likes you. It might be better if you’re not here when she gets home.”

I nodded and dug into the small backpack I used as a purse, pulling out a Target gift card I’d planned to give Olivia for Christmas.

I handed it to Shanda. “Officially, this is for you to buy an appropriate court outfit. That way I can give it to you and not violate any attorney rules. Unofficially, Merry damn Christmas. Go buy you and Bertie something.”

She teared up a little. “Thanks. I’m not sure what would have happened today if you hadn’t come.” Then she closed her eyes and pulled herself together.

I lightly punched her arm. “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re one of my favorite clients. Hang in there. And let me know if anything like this happens again.”

Shanda smirked. “That’s not saying much since all your clients are criminals. But thanks—for everything.”

Damien walked me to the parking lot and pulled me in for a hug. “That wasn’t exactly how I’d hoped to spend the afternoon, but I’m glad you were there.” He glanced around. “This isn’t the best neighborhood. Will you call me first if you ever have to come back?”

“I’m fine.”

He stared at me. “Promise me. Out loud.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay. I promise.”

He fingered a strand of my hair, then hugged me tight. “I need to go pick up Brock. I wish like hell I wasn’t going out of town tonight so I could fuck you under your Christmas tree. Nowthatwould be a great Christmas present.”

I laughed and squeezed him back. “I’ll take a rain check on that.”

Chapter 28

OliviaandIgaveAva a round of golf at an exclusive golf course in La Quinta as one of her Christmas gifts. The course was one of the nicest in the area, and Ava loved playing there.

We’d made previous plans to play on Christmas Eve, so when I got home after the incident with Shanda, I hurried to get ready. I usually enjoyed playing golf, but Ava was one of my least favorite golf partners. She tried to coach me whenever I made a bad shot, and she became moody and temperamental if she was playing poorly. But since it was Christmas, I sucked it up. The course was surprisingly busy for Christmas Eve.

“I just love this!” Ava gushed as we loaded our clubs in the cart. “Golfing with my two beautiful girls on Christmas Eve. And the day is just perfect.”

She wasn’t wrong. The temperature hovered in the mid-sixties, and the sky was a brilliant blue against the greens and the palm trees. The air smelled like fresh-cut grass.

We were all golfing fairly well and having a nice round. But the foursome of middle-aged men in front of us had two bad golfers, and they were taking forever. They also didn’t show any indication of letting us play through.

Then the group behind us caught up, and the group behind them caught up as well. When the foursome in front spent ten minutes with the beverage cart, Ava started fretting.

“They should see there are three or four groups behind them and take a hint. I bet it’s because we’re women and are better than them,” Ava complained.

A few minutes later when the slow foursome was still huddled around the beverage cart, I pulled out my phone and called the clubhouse. I got the golf marshal on the line and explained the situation. Ava was starting to get worked up, and I wanted to avoid a scene.

“Did you ask them if you could play through?” the marshal asked.

“No. They don’t seem to care they’re holding everyone up, and they spent the last ten minutes getting drinks from the beverage cart. Everyone is at a standstill.”

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