“She’s already inside,” my assistant says, pointing at my office’s door and shrugging. “I tried to stop her, but…” She shrugs again, and I just nod at her, fully knowing that there’s no stopping a maniac like Misty.

“Alright, I’ll handle her,” I say, more to myself than to my assistant. I walk toward the door, place my hand on the handle, and take a deep breath before turning it.

“Misty?” I call her as I step inside the office, carefully closing the door behind me. The office’s lights are turned off, and I go for the switch and flick it up. The moment the light floods the room, my eyes find Misty immediately - she’s sitting in my chair, her legs up on my desk, and her small Yorkie, Cupcake, is sitting on her lap with a bored expression. Her lips are a straight line of contempt, desperation, and rage… and all that at the same time.

“Why haven’t you answered my calls?” She asks me right away, her voice soft but already cracking. She’s seconds away from crying or screaming - or probably these two at the same time.

“I’ve been busy with --”

“Why did you ignore me?” She continues, almost as if she hadn’t heard me, and takes her legs off my desk. Jumping up to her feet, she closes the distance between me and her, and I feel the scent of alcohol hanging in the air. Yeah, more than just angry, she’s also drunk. But that was to be expected, right? “WHY DOES EVERYONE IGNORE ME?!” She shouts out loud, throwing both her hands up in the air and closing her eyes for a long moment. “THIS ISN’T FAIR!”

“Misty, calm down. Why don’t you --”

“CALM DOWN? CALM DOWN?! My heart is broken, Cara! I demand retribution!” She continues hysterically, waving one fist into the air. She gestures wildly as she speaks, clutching Cupcake against her chest and almost suffocating him with her huge breasts.

Pacing around my office, her heels clicking ominously against the floor, she looks like a tiger looking for a way out of his cage.

“Please, Misty, sit down,” I try, waving at the couch at the end of the room, but that just makes her pace faster now.

“I can’t! I can’t sit down… I can’t eat or sleep! I can’t do anything until Liam’s crushed!” She continues, talking so fast that I can barely understand anything she’s saying.

I need to do something before she goes berserk.

Walking up to my desk, I grab her purse and open it. I rummage through it, and it doesn’t take me more than two seconds to find her flask of vodka. Grabbing it, I then walk up to Misty and grab her arm; I force her to sit down on the couch, and then I open the flask and shove it into her hands.

Still ranting about the fire and brimstone that’s her daily life, she finally quiets down as she brings the flask to her lips, drinking heartily. Just like a baby - if babies drank vodka, that is.

Cupcake has slipped out from her embrace and has already fallen asleep next to her, curled into a tiny ball of fur. I have no idea how the dog does it - I’d go insane if I had to be around Misty 24/7.

“Misty, listen,” I start, taking a deep breath as I try to find the right words. “You can’t be my client anymore,” I tell her, deciding to get real right from the start.

Taking the flask out from her lips, she looks at me with her wide bloodshot eyes.

“What?”

“I can’t find anything on Liam,” I tell her softly, feeling as if I’m trying to disarm a nuclear bomb that’s about to go off. “I just can’t do what you’ve asked me. I’m sorry, Misty, I failed,” I continue, choosing the safest route available.

“No,” she whispers, going up to her feet as her eyes keep on widening menacingly. “NO! NO! NO!” She wails, throwing her head back and yanking on her own hair.

Alright, get on board - crazy train has arrived into town.

“Misty, please, sit down so that we --”

“NOOOO!” She continues, gritting her teeth as tears stream down her face. Then, as if something snapped inside her head, she narrows her eyes and turns her gaze to me, her demeanor going from wild and loose to cool and controlled in a fraction of a second. “Quit thinking with your pussy, Cara,” she tells me, her words hitting me like a brick.

“What?”

“You heard me. Stop thinking with your pussy. You’re probably just blinded by his eight-pack and huge cock, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes,” she whispers, taking one step toward me and narrowing her eyes into slits. She’s so close that the smell of vodka in her breath is probably enough to get me drunk.

“You’re mistaken, Misty, it’s nothing like that. I simply can’t find--”

“Oh, please. Don’t try to fool me. It’s as clear as vodka to me - you’re protecting him! Well, you better start doing your job, or else I’m going to expose you online and on TV. How would you like to see Lust Muscle going up in flames? I bet all those broken hearted guys that you crushed and humiliated would bandy up together to destroy you, wouldn’t they? I bet they can sue you for emotional distress.”

“Misty, stop. You’re crazy.”

“Crazy? You might be doing well, but I doubt that even you would be able to survive if Lust Muscle were to be exposed. The cost of surviving in court would bury you,” she tells me with a grin, toying me like a cat would do to a mouse.

I stare into her eyes, rage welling up inside of me, but Misty just keeps on grinning wildly.

“I want results, Cara. Or else,” she finishes off and then grabs her purse from my desk and bolts out of my office like a hurricane. Then, a few seconds later, she’s back in the doorway. “Cupcake, cutie! Come on with mommy!” She chirps happily, almost as if she is a different woman now, and her Yorkie jumps out of the couch and trots after her.

“Fuck,” I whisper, sinking down into the couch as she slams my office door. Noticing her open flask forgotten on the couch, I grab it and take a few sips, closing my eyes as the vodka spills into my bloodstream.

How the hell am I going to get out of this mess?