Page 12 of Fraud
What I had assumed was a full day had in fact only been a handful of hours.
They hadn’t even let me finish out the day before giving me the boot.
For the next several hours, I found comfort at a bar down the street from work.
Correction—my old work. No, wait, my former employer. That was the proper way to say it. But, after a few shots of whiskey, I really didn’t give two fucks about grammar or formalities.
Or anything for that matter.
The bartender was kind, listening to me prattle on and on about untrusting bastards and my sudden fall from grace. He assured me I’d get back on my feet, one way or another, and maybe he was right.
Of course, he was a bartender, so what did he know about journalism?
Not a damn thing.
But, apparently, neither did I.
Aimlessly walking around through the city with my pitiful box, I found myself back at Kim’s apartment.
Maybe Boss Man Aaron Sanders was right. Maybe I should find a nice girl.
As I stepped into the elevator, squinting to see the dimly lit buttons, I smiled at the thought.
Hell, I had one right upstairs.
What if my casual fling with Kim was meant to be more, and she was exactly what I needed in this chaotic world?
The elevator dinged, announcing my arrival, and I took a shaky step forward, the alcohol I’d consumed making every motion take a bit more effort.
I headed toward her apartment, feeling determined now. I knew exactly where she hid the extra key, and I intended to use it. I wasn’t sure that I was supposed to know about it, but I’d caught her putting it back in its place after she’d forgotten her keys one night we were out.
For what I had planned, I figured she wouldn’t mind.
Kim often worked from home when she was busy with a manuscript. She’d told me the quiet atmosphere helped her fully absorb what she was reading and considering. From what she’d told me about the deal she was currently working on, I knew for certain that she’d still be in bed, probably wearing very little, as she chewed on the end of her pencil.
Yeah, I could definitely see a future with that piece of ass.I grew more certain of that with every step.
That, or the alcohol was making decisions for me.
I wasn’t quite sure.
But I was going in anyway, and we could sort out the details later.
I tiptoed through the apartment, dropping my box of useless junk at the door until I came to the hallway. There, on the floor, was a string of scattered clothes. I recognized the pair of sexy pink shorts from the morning, remembering Kim throwing them on as I’d left.
What I didn’t recognize were the dark pants.
The pair of men’s pants.
Stepping closer toward the bedroom, I found a matching pink shirt and bra and a man’s shirt.
What the fucking hell?
My feet barely made a sound as my ears protested the noises I heard coming from behind the closed door.
“You like that, don’t you, Kim?” a male voice said.
“Yes!” Kim cried out.
