The Set Piece Read Free Page B

had happened to her in a long while. She even managed to hold her head high and her arm around her chest as she passed two men getting out of a car. They whistled appreciatively as she passed, and she was thankful that she still had the tartan skirt on. A symbolic gesture only went so far.
    Her high only lasted until she slipped the Atoms promotional shirt, conveniently sitting on the backseat of her car, over her head. Once fully clothed she took stock of her situation. Despite her victorious exit, it wasn’t good. Reggie was a racist, misogynistic asshole, and probably a hundred other horrible things as well, but he was the devil she knew. Now, if she wanted to eat, she would have to metaphorically get into bed with Paul Knight, the devil she didn’t know. And do it tomorrow morning at 10 a.m. exactly. Anxiety curled in whips in her stomach. What exactly had she gotten herself into?

    The appointment was on her before she knew it. She had gotten up early to run before it got too hot, and to work off the nervous energy that was now coursing through her body. At the end of the run, she stopped by Blinkies, Simon’s favorite donut shop, for two of the apple fritters he loved. She owed him big for dumping a ton of extra work on him with her dramatic exit. She didn’t want to talk, though, so she sneaked in and left a note with the fritters on the kitchen counter, then jumped into the shower. At 9:20 a.m., she made her escape, and by 9:55 a.m., she stood in her one good dress—its straps cutting into her shoulders—in the shining lobby of the Horowitz and Kane law firm.
    The receptionist tossed her thick blonde curls out her of eyes as she got up to take Amy to Franklin Horowitz’s office.
    Amy was sure that the casual motion had been perfected in front of a mirror since it simultaneously thrust the receptionist’s large breasts forward. She might have enjoyed the show if her stomach wasn’t turning cartwheels.
    “My name’s Jenna,” the receptionist said, as they walked toward the elevator. “Please let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with.”
    The elevator doors opened several floors up. Jenna passed Amy on to Horowitz’s personal secretary, Rachel, a thin, crisp lady who stood waiting for them in a bright outer office.
    “We’ve been expecting you, Ms. Kimball. Come with me, please.” There was no tossing of hair or thrusting of breasts on the rarefied atmosphere of the top floor. Rachel escorted Amy to a corner office suite.
    Behind the glass doors, Paul Knight lolled on a couch, and a thick-set man in a very expensive suit sat behind a huge desk; both were waiting on her arrival.
    Amy took a look at the exit. This was her last chance to bail. So far everything seemed on the up and up. Rachel tapped on the glass door and opened it. After taking a deep breath, Amy strode through.
    Knight bounced up from the gray plush couch and rushed to meet her. “Amy, so good to see you. I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”
    “Neither was I,” she said, and took his outstretched hand. His shake was firm, but his hands were much too soft. And there was that weird vibe with him again.
    “This is Franklin Horowitz,” he said.
    They shook hands, and she was directed to a chair that matched the couches. She sank into it, and her eyes widened. It was by far the most comfortable thing she had ever sat on. She ran her hand over the soft fabric, then sat up straight to gather her wits about her; she couldn’t be seduced by the first piece of flashy furniture to come her way.
    “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” Horowitz said. His voice was smooth and deep and very reassuring.
    “It did cross my mind.”
    “Before we get to that, you need to sign this.” He handed her a contract that had Confidentiality Agreement in big bold letters written across the top of the first page.
    She flipped through the rest to see a long list of numbers with several bullet points after each one. “I would