Page 67 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“Does it matter? He still stepped down over it and gave them the satisfaction of thinking they had won.” The thought alone makes my body vibrate in anger. I know he didn’t step down to avoid the smudge on his incredible career but rather to remove all drama so his son, who wanted to follow in his footsteps, could do so with a clean slate in front of him.
Yeah, I’m the selfish bastard who let him do that—not that anyone could have stopped him.
“Don’t let your head go there, man. He stepped down because he had already planned on retiring, not because of you. We both know that.”
“Yeah, well . . .” How do I go from the high of last night with Emerson to this shit? “Now I get to deal with Asshole Jr.”
“He’s doing it just to spite you.”
“But he has friends in high places.”
“So do you, my friend.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Are you avoiding me?” Desi’s voice rings out through the red hangar, prompting me to lift my head without thinking and rap it smartly on the underside of the Cessna’s wing.
“Shit.” I rub a hand over the top of my head.
“Now, I know I was poking pins in the Voodoo doll I have to punish you for avoiding me, but I didn’t think it would actually work.”
“Very funny,” I say as I roll my eyes, step away from the plane, and wipe my hands on a rag.
Desi stands with her hands on her hips, head angled to the side, and a scarf that looks like a rainbow threw up all over it wrapped around her neck. It’s ridiculous and bright and girly, but she pulls it off and makes it look uniquely fashionable.
“So, are you?”
“Am I what?”
She huffs, as if she’s trying to explain thermonuclear dynamics to a kindergartner, and takes a step forward. “Avoiding me. Not taking my calls. Not returning my calls. Pretending like Grant never called me two nights ago and told me not to show up at the bar because he was going to otherwise occupy your time. You know”—she shrugs—“that kind of avoiding me.”
“No.” I avert my eyes and finish wiping off the windshield of the plane with Windex to—yes—avoid her. “I’ve just been busy.”
Her laugh is rich and bounces off the concrete floor and echoes back to me. “Like bow-chick-a-wow-wow kind of busy?”
I level her with a glare. “You’re so childish.”
“And you refuse to admit you slept with Grant.” She’d be a really good interrogator. I don’t plan on telling her that.
“Who said I slept with Grant?” I feign innocence, trying to keep the act up for some reason.
“You did.”
“I did not.”
“Uh-huh.”
“If I haven’t spoken to you, then I obviously haven’t told you I slept with him.”
“Your silence speaks volumes.” She purses her lips as if victorious, and all I can do is attempt to follow her messed-up logic.
“Silence doesn’t speak.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. It can scream sometimes, and honey, yours is louder than a sonic boom.” I lower my hands from where I’ve moved on to the side windows and just shake my head. “Admit it. I need to hear it.”
Another glare. A repeated sigh. A confession that I’m not sure why I’m keeping so close to the vest when I usually share everything with her.
“Yes, I slept with Grant.”
