AN: I don't know why this took so long. I'm sorry. It's shorter than the other chapter, and I kept thinking I had to go all the way until the end of the day, but I think this ends good here. I had to convince myself that for the longest time.

Chapter 2

You're Welcome

Duncan's only purpose for the rest of his night was to get plastered out of his mind. This was pretty easy for him to do, since he was way more than just buzzed when he started. He found his clothes and put his jeans on even though they were still damp. He couldn't really tell anymore anyway as he was too drunk to feel much, yet the intoxication hadn't quite numbed the pain in his leg.

It hadn't even began to touch the ache in his chest, but he had all night to address that. His smokes were gone, and he knew Courtney enough to know that they were in the garbage, were he easily dug them out. He then left, stealing Courtney's French Burgundy and leaving the apartment building.

He wandered the street until he found an ATM machine. He then quite drunkenly took out an insane amount of cash, getting pissed off when he realized the limit was $2000.00. He was sort of hoping he'd get mugged. Maybe he'd get shanked and bleed to death and not have to actually worry about tomorrow or the rest of his life. When nobody volunteered to do so, he went to a bar to get more booze.

He had always been pretty good at making friends. Especially with strangers who he would never see again. They were the best friends to have, really. They wouldn't know him long enough for their relationship to get ruined. He didn't even have to try. After downing his first shot of whiskey he already had a girl approaching him.

"Hey... weren't you on TV?"

"No he wasn't," he heard her friend hastily whisper to her.

"No... I think he was on that show. The survival show with the island!"

"Sure was, sweetheart," he replied eyeing the two girls up, already calculating what they drank, how much they could handle and which one would be the easiest to convince to take him home with her. He had washed out Courtney's taste in his mouth with the whiskey, but it didn't numb his lips enough yet to make him forget it all together.

"Yeah, he was the hot one in that drama show! Didn't you go to prison?" That put a damper on the blissful mind numbing mood he was trying to suffocate himself in. "That's kinda hot, though," said the very drunk girl leaning on her friend. She was probably twenty, twenty-one years old. She must have been just a kid when the show had come out. He wasn't sure if he cared.

They shared some pointless conversation with each other until he had somehow succeeded in worming the drunker girl away from her friend. He thought about fucking her. He thought maybe it would make him feel better. It wouldn't. He knew that. He probably would have done it anyway, if his leg wasn't smarting so much. The girl was too drunk to walk and after she past out, he sat with her to make sure she was alright until her friend came back for her. In a way, those ten years in prison had almost made him softer than when he went in. Almost. The year after had hardened him back up.

The bar eventually kicked everyone out, and he went to go find another one. If he stayed around people, he'd be safe. When everyone had to go home, that's when he was in trouble.

Once everything was closed, he started to wander down the sidewalks in a not so straight line. It was late so not many cars were on the road, but whenever one did drive by he would stop and watch it pass, wondering if they were looking for him, if they would stop and shoot him dead where he stood. It was better than going back to prison, wasn't it? Anything would be better than to sit and do nothing with the rest of his life. Limping down the street with the bay wind beating on his back was freedom. He would never relinquish his freedom to anyone ever again.

He tripped and stumbled, catching himself on a railing as the sidewalk and road were now going over a bridge. He threw up a little bit before continuing onward. If anyone did find him, he sure as hell would not be able to run away. Why did his leg hurt so much? Yeah, he got shot but he shouldn't be able to feel anything if he drank enough, right?

Apparently that was wrong. That was so wrong.

He placed his feet over the cement barrier base that separated him from the open air of the bridge and griped onto the metal bars of the fence. The bars went over his head, even with him stepping on its foundation which was a couple of meters off the ground. Probably to prevent people from doing exactly what he was trying to do. He somehow managed to pull himself over it, only ripping his shirt a little and banging his bad leg up a lot.

"Fucking hell," he moaned, now seated on the cement base on the other side of the fence, his legs dangling, and hands gripping the metal bars behind him. Why did they have to make it so difficult to get a nice view of the bay?

He almost expected someone to show up and find him, tell him not to jump. Don't let go. He still had so much to live for. All that bullshit. He wasn't sure if it would kill him, looking down at the water below. But he was also not so sure if he could swim well with his bad leg, or at all, with how drunk he was. Yeah, he'd probably drown. His heart started to pound with the possibility.

He sat there for 15 minutes, really hoping someone would come. Man, was he just that lonely?

Why did he come here? Of course it didn't matter where he went. Trouble always followed him. Coming here wouldn't, and didn't fix that. What did he expect? Why go to Courtney? Courtney fucking hated him. He was a fucking idiot. He should throw himself into the bay for being a fucking idiot.

But if he did that, then he would miss the imaginary person he made up that was going to stop him from jumping. He really could use the company.

He let go of one of the bars to pull out his phone. It would be very easy for him to drop it into the bay, to have it be gone forever, but if God willed it, then it was just so. He went through his contacts of friends and family he never kept in touch with. His thumb hovered over Gwen's name.

He shouldn't.

She'd hate him for it. But it never stopped him from bothering her before. Besides, he'd just send her a simple text, a question that had been bothering him all night and in which she might have a pretty good answer to.

Would you rather... he texted slowly as he was afraid any moment he'd lose his balance and fall in if he wanted to or not. ... jump off a bridge or be shot to death?

It was a pretty innocent sounding question. She would come up with some snarky reply that he may or may not take seriously, depending on how good the answer was. Though the time was 3:57 in the morning. He shouldn't be surprised if she didn't respond at all, but she hadn't let him down yet.

What he wasn't expecting was the incoming call. Shit. He wasn't ready to use his voice.

But if he didn't answer, then of course Gwen would assume the worst and freak out anyway. He tapped the answer button. "'Whaaaaat?" He cried realizing maybe that was a bit rude but he was too drunk to care.

Instead he was answered with high pitched giggling.

"Who's this?"

"Dad!"

He gave a long, somewhat embarrassed sigh when he realized who actually called him. "Isn't it past your bedtime?" He looked at the time on his phone again quickly. It was now just past four in the morning.

"No!" the voice laughed. " No, Daddy!"

"Hayden. Listen. You have to stop calling me that." Duncan rubbed his face hard.

"Why?"

"Because," he snapped.

"Why?"

Duncan rolled his eyes trying to sound more pleasant to the five year old. "Because Corey doesn't like it."

"Why?"

"Because Corey is like ya dad now, okay? Even though she's a woman. Listen. Just don't. Do you understand?"

"Daddy, I want to play Froggy."

"What?"

"Froggy!"

"I don't know, Bud. I don't know how to play Froggy." He sighed, "Th-that's a game right?"

"Yeah!"

He found himself feeling a little bit better. Though he was too dizzy to try to climb over the fence again. It was also sort of hard to understand Hayden when he was talking fast, especially over the phone, but the tone of his voice changed from whiny to more conversational so he thought that Hayden must have forgotten about figuring out the app for 'Froggy'. "That's great," he replied, pretending he knew what he was saying. "You don't say? Really."

Suddenly a much more easily understood voice came into the background. "Hayden! I told you to put your shoes on 15 minutes ago!" There was some shuffling noises as the phone switched handlers. "Duncan?"

"There's my favorite Gothic queen!" he greeted.

"You're up early..." Her voice changed from wonderment to flat. "You're drunk."

"Why's everyone accusin' me of being drunk tonight?" he slurred into the phone.

"You're never up this early. You must not have gone to bed. AND you only ever call me when your drunk!"

"That's not truuue... Gweneth." He knew she hated it when he called her Gweneth. He could just see her rolling her eyes at him. "You are very important to me."

"Yeah, to pick up your drunk ass when you can't walk!" Her voice got farther away. "Corey? Can you take Hayden to school?"

School? He took the phone away from his ear to check the time again. Fuck. He suddenly remembered the time difference in Toronto. If he had been thinking he wouldn't have texted Gwen. Not during the day anyway, when she was sure to be busy. He could still hear her talking to someone else. "I have a phone call! Why does it matter who it is?! Yes. Of course it's Duncan! Your right, he's the only one I raise my voice at."

"She doesn't like me," he said more to himself since it was already quite obvious to anyone that knew them that Corey didn't like him. He grinned like an idiot. There was something wrong with him. Why was he so elated when people hated him.

"Only because you keep calling every time you get drunk! You have to get your shit together, Duncan. We don't have time searching for you every time you decide to stop caring about yourself."

"First of all, I didn't call you. Your son called me."

"Oh shit, he did." Gwen must be looking at her phone now.

"And he called me 'daddy' again."

"Fuck."

"Yeah, so either Corey's gotta get on that sex change-"

"Shut up!"

"-or you have to tell him the truth."

"No, no, no, no! Listen-Oh you sent a text. Ha!" She said quickly to change the subject. "Would you rather jump off a bridge or be shot to death," she read. "Shot to death," she answered.

"What, really?"

"Yeah. Well I guess it all depends. Drowning is basically suffocating in probably freezing cold water. It's got to take a moment for you to actually die. If you're shot, like in the head, you'd be dead instantly. And you know how I just hate, dark, suffocating places." She gave a shudder.

"Hmm," he murmured, now really reconsidering his jumping off the bridge plan. But how was he going to climb back over the fence?!

"Now tell me where you are so I can pick you up. I have time before work."

Duncan twisted around to take another look at the fence. He did somehow get over it after all. "That won't be necessary."

"Where are you? It sounds windy."

He was able to get his feet underneath him and twist around to look for a place to climb up. He should definitely not try to do this one handed, but he was gonna anyway. He turned to see if he could maybe crab-walk until he wasn't over the water anymore. It looked to be a kilometer. "Listen." He paused as he tried to think. "Listen, remember when you told me to get myself away from Cynthia?"

"I thought we should have gotten her arrested."

He started he slow navigation. "Well we both know how well that worked out. And then you told me I should get away."

"I said you should stay low."

"Well now that parole is over, I went on vacation."

"To where? Where are you?"

"And you also told me to stop fucking prostitutes." He haphazardly continued, ignoring her question.

"Yes, I did tell you to stop doing that. Where are you going with this?"

"So I figured, ya know..." He was making progress. Maybe he wouldn't slip and fall to his death. Of course safety still looked a long way ahead. "... I should stop having sex with strangers to piss off Cynthia, because that can't be healthy. Something about my 'fragile emotional mind'? I think that's what you said. Yet you refuse to sleep with me, so..."

"Duncan," Gwen cut him off. "Where the hell are you?"

"But in order to have a meaningful relationship, I gotta know someone, right? Like really know them. But how do you know somebody you just met? You don't! And then you fuck them, and it turns out you still don't know them, and then you're just still fucking a stranger or slash prostitute, and the whole thing just starts all over again. You know what I'm sayin'?"

"Sure?"

"I shouldn't be meeting new people!"

"Right! Duncan, you need to work on yourself a little. I know, you've gone through a lot in the past year. I think you've really have changed for the better. You're doing good. It takes some adjusting. But, obviously, there's still some things you have to work through. And I'm not saying not to meet people! You should meet people. You should get out there, have fun. Nothing serious, nothing fast. But the prostitutes... That needs to stop. And besides, isn't that expensive? I mean they're not potato chips! They are human beings too."

"No, listen Gwen. You don't understand." He felt like he was going to hurl again. He should try to aim for the bay rather than his shoes, but that would involve twisting. "I found her." His voice didn't sound like his. Maybe that was the vomit trying to come back up.

"Who?"

"I found her, and she's with someone," he whined. This was the real reason he felt so sick tonight, but he was trying hard not to think about it. Maybe talking about it to Gwen would help.

"Found who? Cynthia?"

"God, no, Gwen! You're not listening to me! He's like, fucking good looking and rich."

"What?"

"I don't know. I mean I'm not into dudes, so I don't know how to judge, but he probably has a 12 inch dick or something..." He swallowed the urge to hurl back down and started his trek with new vigor as he went into a rant. "... perfect hair and saves children in Guyana and is a doctor and a billion dollars! I don't know what I was really hoping for, like her to be fat and unhappy. Well not really, but maybe at least happy to see me, for just once! Just once in my life something nice might happen to me. And then we could just... forget about it forever and I would be okay with it, but I'm not okay with it."

"Duncan!" Gwen snapped. "You're not making any sense! And all that wind! Are you on a bridge? Is that what this text is about?!" He could tell her voice was starting to get hysterical. He was worrying her.

"No. No I'm not on a bridge," he lied. He stopped moving, trying to catch his breath without her noticing.

"Where are you?!"

"Courtney's gettin' married," he finally said.

"Courtney?"

There was some silence on the other end of the phone. In fact, for a second Duncan thought that maybe they were disconnected.

Then, "Are you in Vancouver?! I told you not to go!"

"Yeah, well that's why I fucking went!" he snapped back at her. He was going to try to jump back over. He had a second wind. He put the phone, still on, in his pocket, and with adrenaline caused by anger he didn't know from where, he hoisted himself back over. He crashed onto his shoulder and hip, aiming for the opposite of his bad leg and the pocket where the phone was. It still hurt and he laid there stunned for a little bit trying to catch his breath. He knew Gwen was still yelling at him. He pulled the phone out of his pocket again, resting it on his cheek so he could maybe sleep there on the cement sidewalk.

He caught the last thing she said "...restraining order! What is wrong with you?!"

"I don't know," he answered. He thought he was ready to fall asleep now.

"What am I supposed to do? Fly across the country to somehow find you?! Do you at least have a place to stay?"

"Yes. I have a place to stay," he said quietly into the phone. Gwen knew him pretty well. More than he would like. But she didn't know everything. God, did she not know. "I'll be home soon. Goodnight. Love ya," and he hung up. It took the last of his strength to move the phone away from his face to tap the end call button. Then he past out.

Courtney woke up at 4:30 in the morning like any other day. She quickly got dressed, getting ready for her morning workout at the gym that was downstairs. She liked to go at that hour because nobody would be down there to gawk at her, as her body annoyingly jiggled this way and that when she moved. What she wouldn't give to be as slim as a pencil. Then she wouldn't even have to workout.

She was going to wake Duncan up at this ungodly hour because he didn't deserve to sleep in. He wasn't allowed to be in her home while she wasn't. He needed to get his ass out of bed and come up with a plan for his life. It would be too early for him to call the lawyer right now, but that wasn't her problem. She didn't care what he did, as long as he was gone.

She gave the door a quick knock before opening it anyway. "It's time to wake up!" she announced. She didn't realized he wasn't in the bed. She had averted her eyes, as she was a little afraid that he may have slept in the nude, but when she got no responds she saw that he wasn't there. Her pink robe laid across the sheets. She picked it up, holding it to her chest as she also noticed her Lou Pierce referral laid on one of the bed stands. She had a pretty awful feeling that Duncan wasn't planning on calling the defense attorney. In fact, she wasn't sure if she would even see Duncan ever again.

This was a good thing!

She thought this loudly in her head as she slammed around her apartment. She thought it as she ran as hard as she could on the treadmill downstairs, and lifted her arm weights with more vigor than usual. She thought that she was lucky to escape his gaze before something even more happened, as she chugged down her after workout protein shake, giving herself a stomach ache.

It was good that he was gone, but that didn't change the fact that she let what happened last night happen. It couldn't get much worse, now that she was sure she would never see him again. But it still was a breech of trust in her engagement. She wondered if she should tell Charlie, if telling him about it would restore the lost trust that such an incident could lead to. It wasn't like she had asked for it to happen. In fact, she had threatened Duncan! It had been unwanted! She could claim it as rape if she tried hard enough.

But she could have done more to stop it. She could have buried the nail of her bat deep within his brain. She could have voiced him to stop, pushed him away. But she hadn't because she hadn't wanted to at the time.

She slept like the fucking dead right after, completely guiltless. She hadn't had that good of a sleep in a very long time, but now that she was awake her head was not letting the thoughts and feelings go. How could she have let this happen?!

It wasn't cheating, she told herself. It wasn't really actually sex, right? It wasn't actual intercourse. There was no penis penetration. In a weird, messed up way, Duncan probably thought he had been doing her a favor. He probably was just trying to thank her and was too fucked up to realize it was inappropriate.

Who was she kidding? Duncan damn well knew it was inappropriate. He just didn't care. He never did.

Still siding with the notion that it wasn't cheating (she was lying to herself, really) she decided not to tell Charlie about it. There had been times when she had had an ex-boyfriend try to reach out to her when she was in another relationship in the past. She never informed her partner at the time, as she was able to deny the ex-lover's attempts effectively on her own. That was basically what this was!

No, it wasn't cheating. She would not associate with Duncan anymore.

Her marriage could have been at stake. Hell, her entire life could have been at stake! Whatever shit Duncan was going through it was sure as hell dangerous. Who's to say what were to happen if she remained in his presence.

She tried to console herself as she finished getting ready for work. She was safe from him now. But he wasn't safe. She went through her morning routine, shower, dress, make up, on auto pilot. She paused after she climbed into her car. If she never saw him again she would never know if he was alive or dead. Why did she care? Why was his life on her conscious? Before starting her route to work she found herself thumbing through her contacts on her car's dash. She had never changed her phone number. If she didn't physically delete a phone number from her contacts, the data would have transferred to whatever new device she had.

He was still there, labeled as "Don't You Fucking Dare". She couldn't remember why she hadn't deleted it when they had broken up. She couldn't think of a reason why to keep it. Deleting it all together would have taken the temptation away to text or call him all those years ago rather than just changing his contact name. Maybe she had kept it to test her resolve. She tapped the button.

"The number you have reached has been-" She hung up, upset with herself. Obviously Duncan had changed his number. There was no way for her to reach him now. She didn't want to reach him. She would not think about this anymore! She continued onward.

She drove her car to her usual drive-through, still trying not to think about Duncan. It took a moment for the intercom to greet her, which was unusual since it was too early for it to be busy, but she didn't notice, as she was still thinking about Duncan.

He had been quite drunk last night. He could hardly be accountable for his actions. And she did have three glasses of wine herself. Maybe she could blame it on that, not that three glasses of wine at night had ever temped her to do anything unbecoming before. And three glasses of wine last night shouldn't be affected her at this very moment, but now she couldn't help imagine his prickly whiskers on the very most inside of her thigh. And his hot wet breath. She squirmed in her seat. Her left hand was resting on her thigh, and she felt her fingers stroke herself slightly.

No! What was she thinking? How indecent! She was out in public!

She bit her bottom lip. She was trying very hard not to allow her mind to wander this morning. It had been a long time since she had been intimate with someone, and even though last night she had been able to get off, she couldn't help wonder what more with Duncan would be like. They had slept together when they had been dating, but that had been so long ago. She could hardly remember. It couldn't have been that great if she could hardly remember, right? The thought shouldn't be enticing her so much.

Why was she feeling this way?! She rubbed her thighs together, like that was going to relieve her impending frustration. She should have thought of taken care of herself before she left for work. This was going to annoy her all day. But then there wouldn't have been time for her to get her coffee. Her coffee was important. Speaking of which, why wasn't anyone serving her?!

"Hello?!" she called out. Her face blushing as if someone could have possibly heard her past thoughts.

"Oh. Oh! I'm sorry! How can I help you?"

It wasn't a voice she recognized, which meant that this person was new and didn't know her usual. She sighed. "One 24 ounce mocha mint dry cappuccino with coconut milk."

"Uh. The cappuccinos don't come in flavors. Only the lattes do."

"What do you mean?! What the difference? Just put the flavor in!"

"I wouldn't know how to charge that ma'am. There isn't a button for that."

"How dare you-I've been getting the same thing every morning, for over a year! How do you not know how to charge me?"

"Um, well, I could add a flavored coffee to it, but that would be another buck fifty for each flavor, so an additional three dollars."

"For flavor? That's insane. I've always paid 3.15 for the entire drink."

"No, that doesn't make sense. I don't see how you can get that total with your order."

"This is ridiculous! I'm a loyal customer! The only reason why I come to this shabby coffee house instead of Starbucks is because you're open early enough. I want to speak to you manager."

"Uh, she doesn't come in this early, but I can give you a number for complaints."

"Yes. Give it to me."

"Will you be ordering any coffee?"

"Give me the fucking latte then!"

She walked into her firm at 6 am, angry. Once in the office she paged her secretary to come in. Her secretary liked to come into work early as well, one of the reasons why Courtney had still kept her around. She would have been fired long ago otherwise.

"Miss Barlow, wh-what can I do for you?" her secretary stuttered. She wasn't usually called into Courtney's office and she must have known something was up. Courtney was momentarily distracted as it looked like someone had left her some documents on her desk. She was flipping through them quickly while sipping her coffee when she realized her secretary had arrived.

"Oh right, Stacy..." She looked up at her. "You're fired. Sorry." She smiled apologetically at her before sitting down and pulling out her laptop to put in an ad for a new secretary.

"W-w-what? Why?"

"It's just not working out, Stacy," she said, filling out the ad on her computer. "Was just not a good fit."

"But I've been trying so hard! I'm sorry I forgot to restock the toilet paper for the office bathroom that one time. I swear it will never happen again."

Courtney shook her head. "It's not about the toilet paper."

"Well what is it?! I will do anything!" Stacy said rather dramatically. She was holding up her pen in her declaration and for an alarming second, Courtney thought she might stab herself in the heart with it.

Courtney stared at her for a moment. She wasn't in the mood to call the police so early in the morning if their was an attempted suicide. Afternoon, maybe. And it wasn't really like she could tell the women the reason she wanted to fire her was because some how her crazy criminal ex-boyfriend found her across the county and got himself onto her schedule yesterday. "Well, okay..." she said, closing out of the job listing site. "I'm going to need you to put in a complaint for Woods Coffee about an employee who works at 5:45 in the morning and doesn't know how to do his job!"

"Woods Coffee? I love that place! They have-" She closed her mouth once she saw Courtney's glare. "Yes. I will get on that right away."

It was going against her better judgement but maybe she could use Stacey for a favor in the future. She wasn't going to pass an opportunity of someone else being desperate for her. "You can go now," she said when she realized that Stacey was still standing there looking at her anxiously.

She read over the new documents before filing them away in their appropriate homes. She was at peace for maybe about a half an hour before Stacey paged her.

"Miss Barlow, your mother is on line one."

She paused for a moment, then quickly checked her cell phone to make sure she hadn't missed any calls. She slammed her hand on the page button "What?"

"Y-your mother?"

"Did you tell her I was in?!"

Her door opened and her secretary poked her head into the office again. "Was I not supposed to? I didn't know!"

"FUCK!"

"I'll tell her I was mistaken!"

"It's too late now!" She took a calming breath before picking up the office phone. She was not ready for this so early in the morning. Even if she had been up for hours already. "Hello?"

"Courtney! Darling! Are you at work?" Obviously as they were speaking through her office number. Courtney wasn't quite sure how to respond to such a stupid question so she was silent. "Remember what the therapist said," her mother said chidingly.

"Mom. When I agreed to not work one day of the week-"

"Which was Wednesday. That's today."

"I know Daddy has explained to you that I have no control over when court cases will be scheduled."

"So I suggested Sundays."

"You know Sundays are Charlie's charity days. I can't not contribute."

"And Saturdays."

"I don't have time to finish my work in the week! Like today! I have to find myself a new secretary," she said icily when she noticed that Stacey was indeed still standing there. She left with a flutter of her wrists.

"So you are allowed to finish up work that couldn't be done in the week on Saturdays to allow you to have that break mid week on Wednesdays. Is there any court cases today?"

"No," she answered grudgingly.

"So it is your day off! If you don't take any days off then you won't have any time for yourself. You need this time, Courtney, to finish planning your wedding. This is why your dress came in a size too small. If you had been present when we needed you this mistake would have never happened! Have you measured your waist recently? I don't think you are going to get yourself small enough in time for the wedding at this rate. I still have no idea what we're going to do with your breasts without you looking like a Las Vegas whore. Losing some weight may help some but we don't know that for sure."

At the beginning of the phone call, Courtney briefly thought about hanging up on her mother. She couldn't put her on speaker phone to allow herself to continue working with Stacey hanging around and her mother shooting her mouth off. But if she ignored her mother, their delicate relationship would just snowball until it wasn't manageable anymore. Small amounts. She could handle her in small amounts. She currently cradled the phone in her shoulder as she typed away on her laptop, trying hard not to listen to what her mother was actually saying.

"And I'll be damned if you get another forehead wrinkle on your wedding day because you wouldn't give yourself one day off a week to relax! And alcohol is not an alternative to relaxing! It also gives you wrinkles and next thing you know, will have to be sending you off to AA. We don't need another episode like what happened at your cousin's baby shower."

"Mom, I wasn't drunk then."

"So you say. Well you were something. Were you even on your meds? And don't tell me you weren't drinking! I saw you sipping on that champagne like it was life support!"

She didn't mention that it was her mother that drove her to drink. Instead she said. "Well maybe someone needs to inform Suzy how down syndrome works! I'm the one engaged to a doctor!"

"We know that dear, but you have to actually get married now and for that I need you to put more effort into this wedding. You still haven't given me an answer if we are going with Champagne or Ivory for the table clothes!"

"Champagne!"

"Great. Now you take the rest of the day off."

"I have a meeting at 9:00."

"And we will have lunch, but not too early. I have a skin appointment so let's make it a late meal. 3:00? Good. Love you, Darling." She rolled her eyes as her mother hung up. She knew telling her mother anything with what was talked about at her therapy sessions would be a mistake. They were supposed to be confidential after all. She had only told her mother about taking a day off during the week because her mother had kept asking her what steps she was taking to improve herself. It was unfortunate that her mother had witnessed her almost murder her cousin at the baby shower. Suzy was a dimwit with too many children. Why hadn't she suggested one day off a month instead? That seemed more feasible with her work load, but even that she was finding hard. Talking off half a day once a month was closer to what she had been doing since it was talked about at her therapy sessions.

She went back to work to try to get as much done as she could before her meeting. Then she would go home to do "nothing" as her mother wished, just long enough for her to confirm to her mother that she did so. Besides, doing "nothing" could be done as easily in a few minutes. Her mother didn't need to know how long it was. In fact, she should go over it with her therapists. Even half a day was unpractical. Half an hour sounded much more reasonable.

Duncan woke up on the street to the sound of joggers and walkers going by him without a glance.

"Fuuuuuuuuck!" he groaned. He only got one head turned at him to the sound, a mother quickly tolling her child away from him. Where the fuck was he? He pushed himself up into a sitting position, swearing more perversely when he put weight on his wounded leg. Why wasn't he dead yet? At this rate he was going to get arrested for loitering and then go to prison. Thank God there were no police around. He shifted his position to pull his wallet out of his back pocket as it was unusually fat with how much money was in it. Shit. He was lucky he hadn't been robbed in his sleep. Why was he carrying so much cash? What was he thinking? Why hadn't he spent it all last night? That was the real question.

He saw that he had several missed calls from Gwen. He quickly texted her to assure her he was alright. Then he painfully pushed himself up, preparing his body to travel so he could find a public bathroom, lighting himself a cigarette to help him go along. The smoke he breathed out burned his sore throat but it lessened the throbbing in his brain.

People stared at him as he trudged down the sidewalk, him probably looking as bad as he felt and he felt pretty damn bad. He rather them give him a wide berth. He was used to this, prison, the streets, his own family sometimes, always staring at him. He both depended and cursed the extra space. He never seemed to be where he belonged. He glared at a couple of kids, not in the mood to hear their high pitched voices.

He found a Shoppers Drug Mart. As he practically fell into its doors he rasped to the guy at the cashier, "You got a bathroom?"

"For customers," the man said tentatively as he was sure that a demon had just emerged from Hell to stumble into his store.

Duncan grabbed a clean shirt, a bag, a bottle of water and an energy drink, and threw them on the counter. "You got, like Tylenol or something?"

"Rough night, huh?"

Duncan didn't respond. He had to get his shit together. His brain was still fumbling around to try to come up with a plan that didn't involve bridge jumping, getting shot at, or spending the rest of his life in prison. It seemed daunting. He wasn't as young as he used to be. He was always tired. It was like his mind couldn't keep up with the world anymore. He used be such a quick thinker.

As the cashier was getting the pain killers for him his eyes rested on a small TV that was in the corner of the store. It was playing the news, muted, with subtitles flashing at the bottom of the screen. He only had looked up at it by chance, but his eyes widened when he realized his picture was on the screen, with big giant words of "Man Wanted". Thankfully it was his prison picture so he looked quite a bit different. No piercings or jewelry as he wasn't allowed to have those things in the joint. His hair was also black and longer as he hadn't had dye and rarely had the energy to cut it back then. Still he silently prayed that the cashier would not turn around and see. He slapped down a hundred dollar bill. "Keep the change," he choked without much voice as he grabbed his things and headed for the bathroom, already looking suspicious.

His heart was beating into his face and he nearly past out once he shut the bathroom door. He stared at the closed door, waiting for the cashier, someone, to come knocking on it, tell him that they knew, that the police were coming. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, scared shitless. If he had been younger, much younger, this would have given him a thrill. What the fuck was wrong with him back then? He gave himself a slap. Get it together! He needed to figure this shit out. The first step was to look like a decent member of society so he wasn't attracting more suspicion. He took off his shirt and gave himself a quick sink bath. After washing his pits and his face he even put some liquid soap onto his tongue to swish around because he couldn't stand the taste of his own mouth. This he then regretted as he wasn't quite sure which had tasted worse.

After he had cleaned up, he left the Shoppers Drug Mart quickly. He was going to get his life back in order. That had been his intention from the beginning. Of course he was going to have set backs. Life wasn't going to just be handed to him on a silver platter. He hadn't deserved that. He hadn't expected all of this to happen to him all the same God damn time, but he had been through worse. He wasn't going to give up, and not giving up meant going back to Courtney. He simply just had to convince her to be his lawyer. Courtney wouldn't lose. Courtney wouldn't tell him to plead guilty just because it was easier. No way in hell was he ever going to take the blame for this mother fucking bullshit. He wasn't done with her yet. He still had some tricks up his sleeve.

Guilt hadn't worked for him in getting Courtney to agree to be his lawyer. He didn't really expect it too. He had been kind of horrible to her in the past, and Courtney wasn't the type of person that admitted to doing wrong herself. No, guilting her into feeling sorry for him wouldn't work. He knew better. Plan B: Bribery.

Courtney didn't love much more than money. He had witnessed her do quite a number of questionable things towards her character just for the green. That unbridled, unapologetic greed was what had sparked his interest in her in the first place, once he saw underneath all her fake polite sweetness. That girl knew what she wanted, and if Courtney would be his lawyer for the money, he would give her every cent he had to his name.

He was too paranoid to go to the bank now. Now, that his God damn name was going around the local news, he did not want to hand over his ID over to a bank receptionist. He had quite a bit of cash still on him. He didn't really remember what he had plan on doing with it last night. He hadn't spent too much of it at the bars. With his older age it didn't take much to get him intoxicated now. (Not that he would admit to it) That went without mentioning that he had also lost probably a gallon of blood making the road to drunkenness just the more quicker. What was he going to do with it? Buy drugs? Get a hooker? Give it all to charity before offing himself? He had just under 2K on him. That was way more to offer upfront to a simple criminal defense attorney, but Courtney was a medical lawyer and probably was used to a much higher paycheck. How much that was he wasn't sure, but being given 2K cash upfront was a decent deal to anyone.

Fortunately he hadn't wandered too far off from Courtney's apartment. He was a wounded cripple after all. It was late morning now. He was probably in a coma on that sidewalk for a good chunk of the morning with the people walking around him. Knowing Courtney she would be at work at this time.

Before leaving last night Duncan had slipped a piece of tape over the latch of Courtney's apartment door, hating the idea that he could be locked away from her forever. She had already locked him out of her bedroom. The gall, right?! He had stuck the tape there as more of a fuck you then with actual intent of breaking in. He hadn't actually planned on coming back, ever, as there had been the bridge plan at the back of his drunken mind, but now he was glad he thought to do it. Now sober and with a clear head, Courtney, he knew was the only thing that could save him. He was fairly confident that the tape would still be there without Courtney noticing. He would simply sneak back into her apartment and wait for her to come back.

He entered the lobby, same man still at the reception desk as before. He continued onward unperturbed, gripping the handle of the glass doors that led to the elevator. Giving it a tug, he realized the doors were locked. They had been opened when he had first came with Courtney. He started pulling on the door a little more out of frustration when he hadn't calculated this in his inebriated stupor.

The lobby man cast a glance at him because of the commotion. "Uh..." Duncan stopped yanking on the door. "I guess I'll go wait for my cousin then..." The lobby man gave him a look that said he agreed, and Duncan left the lobby cursing every square from the checkered pattern on the floor that he past. He went back outside. Now what did he do? Turn himself in? Would that make him look better if he voluntarily turned himself in!? The old Duncan would have shot himself for even thinking the thought, but the real reason why he didn't march his ass to the first police station he found was that he was pretty sure that that would be it for him. He didn't trust the legal system to prove his innocents. It never worked for him before, though his father would have disagreed. His father would have told him he deserved those ten years, that he was lucky to be given the time. His father would be happy if he was locked up for the rest of his life, which at this rate, looked like was going to happen.

He hadn't walked far from the apartment building's main door, still in a daze that he was quite utterly fucked, when he realized that the high, white fence next to him was attached to the complex. Looking through the very thin cracks between the panels, it appeared that it housed off a swimming pool. A swimming pool who must only be available to people who lived at the complex, and therefore had keys, and also therefore, the people in the area must have already keyed in. At least it seemed to be pretty solid logic. There were sure to be security cameras, and sure enough he spotted a few above the fence. Duncan had worked with his fair share of security cameras in the past and had a pretty good idea what area one would cover. He just needed the nudge one a smidge to create a blind spot, and with one well calculated pebble throw, he had an in. It took less time to alter the camera then it did to wait for no passerbyers to be around. He waited until there was no one in several meters before his launched over the fence. The fence was seven feet tall and there wasn't much for him to grip after making the leap. He made himself catch the top though, because if he didn't, he'd be dead. It gave him the adrenaline for the required air. His arms barely gave him the strength to pull him to the top, and he thanked God that he kept up the working out habit he started in prison. He hung for what felt like an extremely long time as he willed his biceps to pull him over the top. He couldn't waste time as any second, someone could see him.

He somehow did land on his feet on the other side, pins and needles traveling up his legs on the dismount, his one leg threatening to explode. He had wholeheartedly believed that no one would see him inside the pool area, as it was early in the day and in the middle of the week. Outside, sure, but once inside the rest should have been a walk in the park.

His heart dropped when he realized he was wrong. Someone was indeed using the pool area at this hour, laying on a lounge chair right in front of him. And that person was Courtney herself.

He had nearly landed on her.

This was it. This was where it ended for him.

But after staring at her still, sunglass clad, black bikini body in terror for what seemed like half an hour, (it may have only been 30 seconds) he realized that it was very possible that she was fast asleep. He took a quick breath before waving his hand once over her face just to be sure. She must have felt the sunlight being blocked from his arm because she began to stir, and cursing under his breath he quickly hid behind one of the many shrubs that was around the place.

Courtney gave a small sigh, pushing herself up into a sitting position before stretching her arms above her head. After her stretch she reached down to where a martini glass sat on the concrete next to her lounge chair. She lifted her sunglasses just a centimeter to peer down at the empty glass that looked like it once had something involving chocolate syrup prior.

"Fuck," she murmured quietly once confirming that the glass was in fact empty. Then she pushed herself to a stand.

When Duncan's gaze had first fallen on her sleeping form, he had been in too much of a panic to really appreciate what she had been wearing, but now that she was standing and he was getting a good look of her from the back, he thought he may have lost a few brain cells from ogling at her.

Courtney had by far been the hottest girlfriend he had ever had, straight ten out of ten, but her sense of dress had always been on the more conservative side. He had certainly seen her in a swimsuit when they were teenagers, but her choice of swimwear back then was more athletic and practical. She had always been practical about every decision she made. The bikini she had chosen to wear today at this particular hour however looked like it had just enough purpose to be ripped off from the first gentle wave that ever had the grace to touch it. The outfit had been small from the front, but in the back, the thin string of fabric completely disappeared into the round, perfect mounds of what was Courtney's glorious rear end.

"Sweet Jesus." He couldn't help the whisper fall out of his mouth, luckily Courtney not hearing it as she was doing another stretch, curving her back with a pop.

He remembered Courtney always had a nice ass, but his memory must have failed somewhat because he couldn't recall it being this perfect before. She was absolutely eating that bathing suit. What he wouldn't give to be the bottom portion of that bikini.

The four inch stilettos she was wearing (which no one had the right to wear to a pool. The straps alone would take a minute to undo) were situating her backside even more nicely than usual and as she took the first graceful step he had to suppress a whine. He felt like he was watching her in slow motion. The strike of her sharp heel sent a quiver up her healthy sized thigh and commoved her derriere in such an erotic way that he thought he felt the vibration go straight to his groin. The two bow strings on either side of her wide hips were having seizures themselves with each step, screaming to be undone. Duncan thought if he stared hard enough, he may grant them their wish. They were just dying to be pulled.

As she was walking away, he quickly looked around. No one else was in the pool area. Who was she trying to show off to? She was headed to a small bar. The bartender looked like he was barely 18 as he too seemed to be distracted by her appearance, dropping a glass at her approach. Duncan didn't think the outfit was for the bartender though. Courtney wouldn't go after such easy prey. Was she meeting someone here? He found it odd that she was here rather than at work. It was the middle of the week and not even quite noon yet. He wondered if she should even be drinking at this hour.

Courtney was now leaning against the bar counter, presumably ordering another drink. Her ass at the moment was shamelessly pointed in his direction for the world to observed, not that she had any perception that anyone was watching her besides the empty poolside. He strained his eyes to see, but she was too far away now to see any detail of what were clearly the gates to Heaven. Or Hell. Or maybe it was both. With her bent over like that, that thin little string couldn't possibly be covering anything, could it?

He had to get out of here before Courtney spotted him and called the cops for trespassing. He wasn't prepared to meet up with her at present and he wasn't going to be able to sweet talk himself out of anything if she confronted him in that. He hurried to the doors that led to the building and luckily they opened without hassle. Thank God. He then navigated his way back to Courtney's apartment. Her door opened to his touch easily and he congratulated himself for being a genius. Making himself at home, he organized his cash on Courtney's coffee table so that it was easily countable and she could see right away that he was serious.

Then he sat back on one of the plush chairs and anticipated for her return. His stomach growled as he waited. He eyed Courtney's kitchen for a second, but he felt kind of bad rummaging through it to look for some grub. He had stolen her wine last night without a problem, but he had been kind of mad at her then. Why had he been angry? It wasn't because she had refused to be his lawyer. No that had been expected. He tried to recall the events of last night, and could briefly remember the look of desire in her eyes. He turned his head to the picture on the wall. "That's right, it's your fault!" he pointed to the photograph. There was something wrong with that guy. He didn't have any proof, but something had to be if Courtney wasn't getting the attention she needed, which was obvious with her running practically naked outside. She must be having an affair. Probably with a whole list of people. That was why it had been so easy for him last night to get under her clothes. The old Courtney would have never condemned to such a heinous crime. Him on the other hand, the behavior was expected. She should have driven that ten inch nail to his head last night but she didn't, which meant something was going on with hubby. He had narrowed it down to the man either being a homosexual or a secret pedophile.

The door opened and Duncan quickly swallowed down his excitement, slash bile and tried to remind himself that he had the element of surprise and therefore the upper hand. Courtney had since wrapped herself in a silk black robe that could have been see-through at parts, but the excess of fabric made it too hard to see what she had on beneath. It didn't matter to Duncan because he knew what was there anyway. She had yet to notice him as she bent down to unstrap her strapy shoes. Yep, it was taking her about a minute, but Duncan wasn't minding as it gave him a good view of her cleavage that was threatening to spill over the top of her bathing suite. It wasn't until she straightened, took off her sunglasses and walked several more meters into the apartment that she noticed him.

The scream that followed had really made everything else worth it. She clutched her see-through robe and fell against the wall of the hall. Duncan had to suppressed his laugh, muffling it down to a few amused chuckles.

"YOU!" she screeched. "HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?! WHY AREN'T YOU ARRESTED?!"

"Let's just say, I'm very good at climbing over things."

She glared at him once at what he was implying before marching over to the large windows. "Did you climb up here?!" She started to fuss over the windows. "How is that possible?!" She then turned around as she saw the money that was on the table. "What is this?!"

"2K," he answered. "You never did say what your upfront fee was."

She was at a loss for words for a moment, her arms tight around herself as if that would be a substitute for the clothes that she lacked wearing. "I am not going to be your lawyer!"

"Ge'ez, you want more money? I can get you more money."

"No Duncan. No amount of money will ever have me agree to be your lawyer."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because we" she pointed frantically to the both of them, "cannot work with each other, EVER!"

"Oh, I see. Because of what happened last night," he said lazily, pulling out his phone. "Because I'm just too incredibly irresistible, you won't be able to actually concentrate on the case."

"No! I'm not letting you sabotage my future MARRIAGE!"

"It's a little late for that, isn't it honey? Or do I need to remind you what happened last night, in great detail?"

"No! No." She calmed down a little bit. "It's over. "

"Well," Duncan finished finding what he was looking for on his phone. The money didn't work so he had to go to his last resort. It was a low blow but he was running out of options. He pulled up Doctor Charles Worthernton's contact page. It really had been so easy to find the man's phone number on the hospital's website. Stalking Courtney on the internet was child's play, like she wanted him to find all this information. "Let's see what Doc Chuck thinks of all of this."

"No!" Courtney's eyes went wide and she lifted a hand as if to make a grab for his phone.

"Agree to be my lawyer and I won't tell him."

Courtney swallowed down her panic with what looked like was a much rehearsed act as she rearranged her face into not caring. "Fine. I already told him."

"You already told him," Duncan asked in disbelief. He still knew nothing about this guy so he wasn't so sure if he could harp on what seemed like such a lie.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Besides, it wasn't cheating."

Duncan laughed. "It wasn't cheating?! How was that not cheating?"

"We did not have sex," she said simply with her nose in the air.

"We didn't have sex," he repeated incredulously. "That wasn't oral sex?"

Courtney's argument seemed to waver for only a moment before she said. "There was no penis penetration!"

"Even though," Duncan's voice was getting louder now, "you came all over my face!?"

"PROVE IT!" she shrieked.

Duncan bit his bottom lip, as if he could still taste her there, and possibly bring some sort of evidence to the argument. Courtney was watching his mouth as he did it. "So, by your 'definition' of cheating," he air quoted, "does that include... talking to your ex-boyfriend?"

"Of course not!"

"Flirting?"

"I have not been flirting!"

"You're wearing practically nothing in public!"

Courtney looked down at herself for a moment, evidently forgetting that she was still in her swim ware. "I'm in a bathing suit," she said, "and I was at a personal pool that's restricted from the public! How dare you-"

"what about a BJ?" he interrupted her. "Is that sex?" He shrugged. "Is that cheating?"

"That would NEVER happen! That would be penetration!"

"Just checkin'. You know, by your 'definition,' I don't see why you dumped me for 'cheating'. I didn't start fucking Gwen until we were officially split." He pushed himself to a stand, because Courtney's eyes had gotten darker than usual and he thought he may need his legs to leap away from her if she started to attack.

"You," she said in an unnatural deep voice which then turned to a pitchy screech. "KISSED HER!"

"Ah," Duncan said not looking at her and putting a hand to his chin. "So that's considered cheating!"

"That's considered cheating because it's way more than just sexual. You can have sex with random strangers because biologically we need to do something with this overwhelming need to reproduce! We do it to get off, but kissing, that's a display of affection! We kiss people we care about like, family member and people we have emotional connections with. We kiss people we fucking love!"

Did she just use the L word? He rolled his eyes. "Oh my fucking God." She couldn't ever say that when they were together? He had said it about a fucking thousand times. He was pretty sure Courtney had never loved anyone other than herself anyway.

He wasn't sure which part set him over the edge. It could have been her voice and how her wails were making his hangover worse. It could have been what she was saying and how all of it was bullshit. Or it could have been that she had done her face up in makeup, to go to a pool, that she obviously had no intention to swim in, but wore that abomination of a swimsuit anyway. Whatever it was, it was making him furious.

"Well maybe if you weren't such a boring ass, controlling bitch, I wouldn't feel like kissing someone else!"

She screamed, slapping him hard in the face. "Ow! Fuck!" For some reason the open handed slap hurt more than the punch she had given him yesterday. "Stop hitting me! I swear to God if you do that one mor-" She slapped him with the other hand.

He shouted back at her, the volume of which almost matched her own scream before it ended in a rumbling growl. For a millisecond Courtney didn't know if she should flight or fight. Her hands came up into fists for what seemed to be for fight, but it was too late then, as Duncan had already grabbed her by the shoulders so she couldn't escape him.

Then he viciously kissed her.

She responded with a muffled cry, fists pounding on his chest to get him to let go of her. Her dark brown lipstick appeared to be chocolate flavored, which just pissed Duncan off more as he deliberately tried to smudge it around to ruin her god damn perfect face!

This was more like sexual assault than last night, and Duncan knew now that there was no chance of him escaping prison, but Courtney was more likely to kill him with her bare hands than actually take him to court. He would make sure of it.

He grabbed onto her head so that she couldn't turn away from him anymore, prying her lips open with his tongue and teeth. He tasted the vodka from her martini in her mouth, Courtney still crying intelligible words indigently. He didn't know what he expected to happen after that. Maybe for Courtney to bite off his tongue. Then while he was trying to keep from bleeding to death she would bash him in the head with one of her four inch stilettos. What he hadn't expected was for her to kiss him back.

Her tongue was moving against his fiercely, which he had assumed was her attempt to push his out of her mouth. Her's was a lot stronger than he expected (she did use it to talk a lot) and though he tried to dominate her through his kiss, he quickly realized that it was a losing battle. She had trapped his tongue piercing behind her teeth and he gave a whine when he couldn't pull it back. Courtney was going to murder him in a far different way than he anticipated.

When she released him, the both of them had only had time to gasp in half a second of breath before she was on him again, devouring his face, her sharp nails now digging into his hair. He was pretty sure that his mouth must have tasted like ass as he only sort of swished it with hand soup earlier, but it didn't seem like Courtney cared.

Fuck he missed her.

Fuck he loved her. He still loved her.

Courtney was ranking her nails over his body, biting his lips savagely, but his hands couldn't do anything. His knees were growing weaker by the second and he wasn't sure if it was from his injury, her pulling on him or if he was just breathless. They were falling. One of his hands let go of her to break the fall, though he still hadn't opened his eyes and he wasn't going to stop kissing her. Courtney hit the couch first, hanging off of Duncan's shirt, then the both of them slid down, Duncan's back hitting the floor with Courtney on top of him.

He looked up at his soon to be murderer, her face ferocious. "LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" she screamed. He was looking alright.

She grabbed the collar of his shirt and slammed his head onto the floor, which did absolutely wonders for his headache. Then she begin to beat at him, switching back and forth from slaps and punches, too angry to think straight. He had put his arms up instinctively. Her arms were hitting his hard ulna bones, making her swear more profusely as it must have hurt her more than it hurt him. Then she grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and began wailing it against him. This of course did not cause him any physical pain, but he was still too bewildered to do anything about it.

Courtney calmed down just enough to realize that her weapon wasn't effectively causing harm, so she pressed the pillow to his face, pushing it down with her knees. "YOU CAN'T SAY ANYTHING IF YOU'RE DEAD!"

His left arm had been stuck under the pillow, and with Courtney's weight on it, he didn't have good leverage to throw her off. His right arm had made it free though, and with the lack of air he was now receiving, it whipped around in a panic. It slammed against the wooden leg of the couch and the pain focused him. Instead of using his free arm to shove Courtney off, he grabbed the couch leg and squeezed it. If anyone had any right to kill him, it was Courtney. He really should give her the honors.

As the seconds went by, he realized that she really wasn't joking. Courtney really hated him so much that she would murder him right in her apartment living room. He never really thought she had it in her. He was both shocked and slightly turned on by it.

Then Courtney's phone when off.

"Goddamn it!" She got off of him, and stomped over to the kitchen where she had left her phone on the island. She snatched it up and hurriedly went up stairs leaving Duncan disappointed on the ground.

Courtney pounded up the stairs as she tapped 'accept' on her phone. "What?!"

"Are you working?" her mother accused.

"No, mother." She turned into her bedroom. "I'm home. I went to the pool. I had a drink. I'm relaxing!"

"A drink? Courtney, it's only 11:53 in the morning."

"The bar opens at ten, so that must mean people want to be drinking then!" She almost hung up on her mother. She was busy after all, but now that she was separated from Duncan, her brain was starting to work better. She was calming down now. She went into her bathroom, putting her mother on speaker so that she could change into her clothes. She noticed her lipstick smudged in the mirror and starting rubbing at it with water from the sink.

"Courtney, you don't sound relaxed. What is troubling you?"

"Oh! It's nothing," she said, ripping off her swim suite and started pulling on her clothes. "There was just a mammal like rodent creature, that somehow got into my apartment," she spat.

"Oh dear! How did that happen? You should call maintenance! That is not acceptable."

Courtney pulled on her socks last and then turned her phone off speaker as she marched out of the bathroom "I don't know Mommy. Let me go check. It might be dead."

She stomped down the stairs, Duncan still laying on the ground, staring up at the ceiling like a moron. She gave him a kick in the head. "What the fuck?!" he exclaimed, coming back to life.

"Nope, still alive." She went back upstairs. "I'm going to need to call the exterminator. I might not make it to lunch. I'll let you know later, okay?"

"Alright dear. Be careful. It could have rabies!"

"Oh Mother, I will." After hanging up with her mom she headed to her office. There was just one thing for her to do now, as killing Duncan, obviously, was too extreme and would have too many consequences. He knew now. He knew that she was sexually attracted to him, and had little self control about it. She wanted him to die, but she also wanted to rip off all his clothes. She couldn't hide or deny it and he had all of the power.

She pulled out several large college text books about criminal law from her many bookshelves and let them slam onto her table that was in the middle of the room. She was going to have to brush up on the subject. She wasn't ready for this. She wouldn't have to do this if she wasn't being blackmailed!

"DUNCAN!" she screeched. He probably wouldn't beck to her call after he had witnessed her every intention to kill him, but she didn't care. She woke up her laptop and went to the desktop folders of paperwork that Duncan was going to have to sign. They were printing when Duncan showed his dazed, confused face in the doorway. "Sit the fuck down!" She motioned to the chair across from the table. She wasn't sure why she was doing this. There must be a way out of it. Think Courtney! She was smarter than this. She was smarter than Duncan. But she was doing it anyway. Her body was on complete autopilot as she printed out all the necessary forms and then brought them over to Duncan, a pen ready. "Sign," she ordered. Duncan did so, without reading the paperwork. It could have easily been a statement saying anything, but Duncan didn't care. But then again, what did Duncan have to lose? Nothing apparently. She could lose everything.

She rearranged everything on the table so it was orderly as she waited for Duncan to finish signing. "You are to mention nothing of what happened a few minutes ago, to anybody! Is that clear?"

"As clear as day," he replied with a grin.

Then she sat on the chair across from him, lacing her fingers together as she tried to proceed in a calm, professional manner. Duncan was still looking at the paper work like he wasn't comprehending what he had just signed. "Okay," she said taking a deep breath, before looking Duncan straight in the eye. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" he answered immediately.

Courtney pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose as she tried to contain the building frustration. She would not lose her cool again. "What are you being accused of?" she re-asked.

Courtney had never been known for her patience but she recognized this flaw in her never ending undertaking to be a better person, and tried her absolute best to work on it. Now was the time to be patient if there ever was one. Yelling at Duncan wasn't going to get him to talk faster, so she simply sat and stared back at him, waiting for him to trust her. It could be a while. The two of them had never trusted each other.

He was looking at her so pathetically. She tried to think of him as one of her other clients, her face pleasant and poised.

Duncan broke eye contact and started looking around the room.

Courtney absently looked at the clock, still trying her hardest to be patient.

He took a breath before finally answering, "Murder."