Chapter 5
The microwave beeped in Lacy’s kitchen, announcing to the world that it had finished the most glorious task of heating up her leftovers. Lacy’s bare feet patted across her carpeted floor, the loose fabric of her pjs flapping with each step. It’d been a long day, and she had to stay in the office an extra two hours just to finish drawing up some agreement papers.
Words could not express how happy she was to be home in her comfies. She pulled her plate from the microwave and inhaled the steam rising from her pasta, a slice of meatloaf, and half a hamburger. There was no way she was cooking tonight, and leftovers tasted just as good the next day. Or the day after. Meatloaf never went bad! It was meatloaf.
She took her plate with her to her second living room. The one in the main area was large, lavishly decorated, and quite the show piece for guests. The TV was a respectable size, the sound system passable. Her second living room, however, was upstairs and nestled between her office and the master bedroom.
This was where she could truly relax. It had her old furniture from her college days, and the TV and sound system she’d actually put money into. She set the plate on her old solid wood coffee table. The long squat thing was decades old. Lacy curled a foot under her before plopping back onto her tan, tweed couch. It was hideous. She bought it from a thrift store, but to this day, it was the most comfortable thing she’d ever set her butt to. Not only was it perfect for snuggling into for watching a movie, but it was also hands-down the best napping couch in the world.
The moment she lied down, it sucked out her soul. After the day she had, she was happy to spend some quality time with her room o’ comforts.
The steaming plate in her lap, she turned the sound up on the TV now that she didn’t have to listen for the microwave. Work was still spread out on the table around her, but she was happy to take a break from that to stuff her face.
She ate happily as she watched the end of her sitcom. As the credits rolled and shrank into a small box in the corner, the news anchor came on to tease the reports for that night. Lacy made a face and grabbed the remote.
Just before she changed the channel, though, the image of a hotel came onto the screen and a picture of Walid.
“Wait, what?” she said to the screen and put the remote back down.
She sat and watched the news report, and wasn’t surprised at all when they saved that story for near the end of the show. Her dinner long finished, she had her feet rested on the coffee table, her plate empty and sitting on the cushion beside her.
“A shooting today took place involving this man,” the anchor started, and again the picture of Walid.
To hear them tell it, it was a wild gunfight. The sensationalism of the news was out of control, but she couldn’t help but give a small smile. Here was this businessman that she was impressed with, convinced was a dangerous animal, and then he goes and proves her right. There was not a single client of hers that could have claimed the same thing. It wasn’t that Walid’s guards handled the situation for him.
The report stated he was directly involved in the fight. She could just picture him whirling about the room like a dervish, laying waste to his enemies. Lacy bit down on the meat of her thumb and switched the channel.
She was going to have hell to look forward to tomorrow, though. Reporters were relentless.
That night, she dreamed of Walid and imagined how the fight went down. After, she raced into his arms, they kissed, and then there was a train involved, and something about a forest. Her dreams never stayed on track. When she woke, she was disappointed by that fact, and spent the rest of the morning imagining how that dream would actually end.
By the time she reached her office building and saw the swarm of reporters outside of her building, she really wished she was back home on her couch. After parking, she took a moment. Steeling her composure, she got out and walked up to the entrance. The reporters and cameras swarmed her, surrounding her despite the fact she wasn’t stopping for them.
Their tenacity was impressive. They knew she was Walid’s lawyer, and the questions they threw at her were outrageous and ridiculous. It was one thing to seek the truth, but they were no better than paparazzi trying to get a reaction out of people. With every question, her heart beat faster.
With every accusation, her judgement fogged over, fuzzy with anger. The muscles in her chest and legs tensed as she struggled to maintain control over herself. Just before reaching her door, she couldn’t take it anymore. She wasn’t going to be run off by such brutish tactics. Spinning about, she faced the reporters. She wasn’t even sure what came out of her mouth. For an instant, all she saw was red.
Adrenaline pumping high in her blood, she didn’t even notice time had passed until she realized she was back inside the building and walking down the hall.
She had no idea what just happened, but felt damn good about it.