Page 5 of Fake it For Good
“Noelle, you can’t support the place,” she said. “You already give so much, and you have so little.”
“Thanks,” I said with a laugh. “I almost forgot I was poor.”
“You’re generous, but yes, you are poor.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “I’ve got a home and a bed. I’m about to dig into a greasy cheeseburger. I’m good. How’s work for you?”
She stuck her tongue out. “Boring. I’m stuck doing research on the worst case ever. I had to get out of there before my eyes crossed.”
Marie worked as a paralegal for a very small firm. She had the lawyer gene in her blood but stopped short of becoming a lawyer. Her wealthy family hated that she dropped out of law school and threatened to cut her off. She chose to walk away from the family money to live her life on her own terms.
“Have you given any more thought to that criminal defense firm?” I asked.
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not going into the family business. I do not want to sell my soul. I don’t care how much money it pays. I like helping people fight against big money. I don’t care if I don’t get paid much. I can go home at night and look at myself in the mirror. I love my parents, but I could never sit at a table with a cheat or murderer and pretend they were my best friend. I just can’t do it.”
“And I respect you all the more for it,” I told her proudly. “You’re a good egg, Marie O’Connell.”
She laughed with her short black hair brushing over her shoulders. “Maybe you can get that engraved on a paperweight and I’ll give it to my dad for Christmas.”
“He knows you’re good,” I said. “He’s probably just jealous he didn’t have the strength to stand up for his morals.”
“Yeah, I’m sure he comforts himself by drinking a glass of scotch from a five-hundred-dollar bottle.”
While we waited for our food to be delivered, I checked my email to see if I had any bites on my housecleaning services. “I have got to get some money coming in,” I groaned. “I am not going to let those kids open a tiny little gift on Christmas and that’s it. They need shoes and pajamas and toys.”
“I’ll keep my ears open for anyone needing cleaning services,” she said. “I could put an ad on the board in the lobby of our building.”
“I’ll write one up,” I said. “Thank you. If I don’t find something soon, I’m going to have to think about buying a short skirt and a cleavage-baring top and finding myself a corner. I am not above selling my body. I won’t sell my soul, but I could sell the other parts of me.”
Marie started laughing. “Good to know you’ll draw the line somewhere.”
“I have to do something,” I said. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. If I knew how to dance, I would go that route. Unfortunately, just jiggling my tits and ass is probably not going to make me money.”
“Hey, you never know, you might be just what some dude is looking for,” she teased.
“Know any sugar daddies looking for a very healthy thirty-something with no real job to speak of?” I groaned.
“You have a job.”
“Writing grant proposals and cleaning houses isn’t really the career of my dreams,” I said, sighing. “I know the ins and outs of grant writing and I can’t seem to get one to start my own nonprofit.”
“You will,” she said confidently. “You’re going to have your own organization that provides for orphaned kids all across the country.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”
3
CANE
Iflicked the bobblehead attached to my desk. I always flicked the ugly thing whenever I was stressed. I leaned back in my chair and turned it around to look out the window. Manhattan stretched out below. My eyes drifted to the building where I had once called home. The penthouse had served the purpose after the divorce. It had never really been my thing. I was glad to have a house of my own once again. All mine. No greedy bitch was going to take my home out from under me again.
I got out of the chair, stuffing my hands into my pants pockets and spacing out. I heard my office door open but didn’t turn around. “What?” I asked.
“Are you in a bad mood?” Denton, my best friend and right-hand at the toy company, asked.
I turned to face him. “You ask me that every day. Every single day. Why?”
“Because I need to know what I’m going to say next.” He shrugged.
