Page 44 of Sugar & Shadows

I huffed. “So I’m not an idiot?”

She laughed. “Jury’s still out. You’re ineffective and inexperienced, but I can teach you.”

Irritation flooded me once again. God, this woman couldn’t even get a sentence out without insulting me. Luckily, the car was in park, because I was ready to jump out, regardless of whether it was moving.

Turning away, I pushed open the door.

“Don’t be so whiny,” she said to my back. “Like I said, as much as I hate to admit it, we’re on the same team now.”

Feet sinking into the snow, I turned and looked back at her.

“And don’t despair; you’ve got a great dick,” she went on casually. “So you’re not a complete waste of oxygen.”

I stood on the uncleared sidewalk, melting snow soaking into my shoes and pant legs, too confused to speak.

“I said great. Not exceptional or unforgettable. Don’t get any ideas,” she shouted out the open window as she peeled off.

As I walked into my house, I couldn’t help but stand a bit taller.

While I disliked Sabrina immensely, we had accomplished a lot during this trip.

And she’d complimented my dick. Not too shabby.

Chapter 11

Sabrina

The Maplewood Free Library truly was one of my favorite places on earth. When I was small, my dad would bring me to story hour, and I’d negotiate with the librarians, usually convincing them to let me check out more than the six allowed picture books. Then later, I’d come here after school and read or do homework until my mom got off work.

It was safe. It was clean. It was comfortable. Nothing bad could happen in a library.

And it had saved my mom. When she struggled with alcoholism, this place had given her joy and hope. Landing a job she loved after getting her degree later in life was one of her proudest moments.

And now Laurie Monroe ran the show here.

“What do you think?” She opened the door to a small conference room. Its floor was covered in piles of unshelved books, along with cardboard boxes and broken chairs.

“It’s yours. There’s a code on the lock, so you can store your things here.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I gave her a squeeze. “I’ll whip it into shape.” Although the glorified closet was far from the office towers and luxury hotels where I usually set up my war rooms, I was grateful for the space.

For now I’d order a few monitors and whiteboards, along with other supplies, and make it work.

The war room was a necessary part of my process. A physical, confidential space housing all the information I’d gathered. Where the thinking and processing could take place.

When dealing with sensitive information, there was no true digital protection. But a locked door and a whiteboard that could be erased? Simple but more effective.

“Proud of you, sweetie.” She patted my cheek. “You’re making lemonade.”

I winced. “Yes, out of rotten, moldy lemons.”

She tilted her head, assessing me. Laurie would not be denied. “Still proud.”

It was a relief to have something to do with myself. I hadn’t had this much free time since childhood, and it was grating on me. My fingers itched to type out a scathing email, or at the very least, plot a very small coup.

“You’re one of the good guys now,” she said as she gathered several books from the table and stacked them.

I squeezed my eyes shut and let go of the response that came to me. My mother failed to understand that goodness was a luxury I couldn’t afford. I had to be effective and successful, and that required ruthlessness. Because power protected those who knew how to use it. I had forgotten that lesson for one tiny moment, and what had happened? Everything had fallen apart.