AllFreeNovel
Share Us
(Not that he never wears realpants.)
Date him long enough and you get the hardtruth.
The more you get to know someone, the more likely you are to find a fatal flaw. It’s like every time you see them, you unwrap another layer. There’s bound to be some nasty stuff under thesurface.
I know firsthand because I have my own share of fatalflaws.
As I’m walking, a text pops up from a number I addedtoday.
Wes:Here’s some more info on theresearch.
Iclick through,and it’s, like, size-eight font. While the words aren’t in my vocabulary and the acronyms make my eyes cross, it takes me all of ten seconds to figure out he’s into some next-levelshit.
Rena:What language is itin?
Wes:I’m not going to respond tothat
My mouth twitches.
I run a search on his name plus the word “research,” and find a LinkedIn profile. Sure enough, he went to those fancy schools and won more awards than I cancount.
Even in whatever grad school picture they had of him, his hair was messy and his eyes were gorgeous. Like some brainiac TomHiddleston.
Still. The look on Wes’s face when I told him how much this would cost was the first strike in the “potential client”department.
People want our services, theypay.
Alot.
There’s anotherproblem.
Closer works with companies long term. Ones who want to build a customer base, foster them, grow over time. Quick flips and venture capital aren’t ourthing.
But I’ll deal with that problem when I get toit.
I tuck the phone away as I approach my office building, wiping a bead of sweat from along myhairline.
In front of the dispensary window, I do a double take. I jerk open the door and stride inside. The man who runs it glances my way, but I pull up next to the woman sitting in the waitingroom.
“Mom? What are you doing here?” Iask.
She’s the same height as me but with hair a couple shades warmer and dark aviators. She sighs, as though she’s not even surprised to see me, and lifts the glasses, revealing dark eyes. “I was in the neighborhood for a deposition and thought I’d drop byafter.”
“To see me or buyweed?”
“For adeposition,” she says primly, turning back to the proprietor. “Is it myturn?”
“Mom? You’re not buying cannabis,” I say even as she reaches into herbriefcase.
“I need it for mycondition.”
Her condition is delusion, so I doubt this will help. But she produces a medical card, and my jawdrops.
“Dr. Anderson gave you aprescription?”
“It’s a recommendation. For my…” She waves a hand toward herstomach.
“IBS?”
