Mom always usedto say every day is a new beginning. It’s a chance to start over. For the next week and a half, I get myself in order. I treat the days as a new beginning from what happened, leaving it forgotten in the past.
Soon, the lies I’ve concocted become the truth. I focus on reintegrating into everyday life. The encounter’s left me shaken. I flinch at odd bumps in the night. Unease creeps into my chest when I’m around strangers.
But I tell myself it’s in my head. It’s self-imagined. I’m okay. I need to behave like I am.
On my first day back to work, I stride out of my high-rise apartment building to a sleek, black town car parked against the curb. I’ve hired my own driver.
He opens the rear passenger door and greets me good morning.
In the past, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but now, panic fills up my chest. There’s no turning back once I get in this car—I’ll have to face the day, be the formidable Delphine Adams the public expects me to be.
My thank you is shaky as I duck into the backseat. The driver pulls away from the curb, joining the rest of traffic.
“I can do this,” I whisper to only myself. I inhale a cleansing breath. “Just focus on the work. You’ll be okay.”
At least I sure hope so.
* * *
“ADA Adams!” Brenda screeches the second I strut into the office.
Many of the legal assistants in the main office glance over and then a slow applause starts up.
I crack a smirk. “Nothing to see here. Just back to make more bad guys sweat.”
It earns some laughs from the others. I retreat into my private office with Brenda closely on my tail.
First thing I do is kick off my pumps and set down my briefcase. My lungs fill with an invigorating breath of air. I forgot how much I love being in my element, in my office working on the cases we’re prosecuting. Even better once I get a chance to return to the courtroom.
Brenda watches me hardly able to hold back her smile. “You look well-rested. Cute blouse.”
“The time off did me some good. I need to take sick days more often.”
“I feel sorry for the guys you’ll snatch off the street now. If you were a force before, imagine now that you’ve had real rest. You’re going to look stunning at the charity dinner for Fuel the Child. Have you picked out a dress yet?”
It slipped my mind. I haven’t even started shopping.
“No,” I answer, “hopefully soon.”
“I’m thinking about asking Chet. I’m tired of attending public events solo. Did you take a nasty fall recently?”
“Hmmm?” I’m distracted as I sit behind my desk and log onto my MacBook.
“Your knees. They’re all skinned up.”
Shit.
My pencil skirt’s long enough to hide the scrapes when standing, but sitting’s another story. I forgot to make sure Brenda wouldn’t see them.
I pull the fabric down over my knees, keeping my face neutral. “Oh, that. It’s Pepa. I was getting out the shower and she darted by. Fell right in the tub and banged up my knees.”
“Ouch. First the flu. Then a fall in the tub.”
“Where are we with prepping for the Frausto hearing?”
My change of subject works. Brenda launches into updates about the charges brought up against Michael Frausto, underboss in the Belini organization. She discusses meeting with our star witness for the trial.
A woman by the name of Octavia Doukas was his former mistress. Throughout the course of their tryst, she bore witness to many of Frausto’s indiscretions.