Boss I Love To Hate by James London

Boss I Love To Hate by James London

Author:James, London
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-12-15T16:00:00+00:00


Chapter Twenty-One

Berlin

“Give me a fucking break,” I mutter to myself.

I slam my office door behind me to make a point – and so I don’t have to listen to that insipid fucking giggling. Every single day for the last two weeks since that article in the Ledger came out; I’ve come into my office to find “Afternoon Delight” by the Starland Vocal Band playing on my computer on an endless loop. Apparently, the PD’s office is filled with comedians.

I’m not in the mood for it today. I still haven’t really unpacked all of the emotional garbage floating around in my head from having my sex life splayed out all over New York for everybody to see and consume. I’ve been avoiding everybody like the plague since the article came out – and Nadia and Gabby have had the good grace to refrain from adding to my pile of shame. I figure I can deal with that later – or just hope it dissipates entirely, so I don’t have to.

Adding to my foul mood is the fact that my morning has been spent at the doctor’s office having more blood sucked out of me than a herd of vampires would have taken. I haven’t felt good in a few days and finally decided to see what was going on. I’m tired of feeling wrung out, nauseous, exhausted, and like I don’t want to do anything but sleep the day away.

I drop down behind my desk and groan as I look at the stack of files sitting on my desk. Just because I’ve been out, that doesn’t mean the wheels of justice have stopped grinding. Another wave of nausea rolls over me, so I put my head down for a minute. The taste of bile is thick in the back of my throat. I’m doing all I can to keep from having to puke into my trash can.

I lift my head at the sound of my office door opening and see my supervisor step in. Carl Kennedy, the Principal Attorney for our unit, has been working in the PD’s office about as long as I’ve been alive. He’s got a full head of snow-white hair, lines etched deep into his face, has a bit of a bulbous nose that’s usually red – which, along with his typically watery eyes – gives away his habit of tipping a few back. Not that he makes any bones about it. He never comes in drunk and is still exceptionally sharp. Carl really is one of the best lawyers I’ve ever been around. He probably forgets more every day than I’m ever going to know.

Carl ambles across my office and drops heavily into the chair across from me. I lean back in my seat, still fighting the urge to vomit, and give him what I know has to be a weak smile.

“Morning, Carl,” I croak.

“What did the doctor say?”

“They’ll call me this afternoon with some results.”

He nods and looks away from me. It’s then I notice the tension in his eyes and the set to his jaw.



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