him except that he was an eligible bachelor and purportedly the sexiest male in a two-hundred mile radius. But this was according to the local girls, whose taste in men I seriously questioned. I was not really into the cowboy type, which comprised the majority of the male population in this town.
“Have you been able to get a hold of him yet?”
“Yes. I already asked him for an appointment on your behalf, and he refuses to see you today. I also told him there wasn’t much time, and that you were dealing with matters of life and death,” Miles said.
“And?”
“He wasn’t impressed. He said he deals with matters of life and death every day, and that the living, especially living attorneys, can wait.”
“He said that?”
“Yeah. But in a really sexy voice.” Miles sighed. “You should call him.”
I buried my face in my hands. Honestly. I just needed one thing—one thing—to go right, to be easy, just one time today. Was that really too much to ask?
“Go see him in person,” Miles said. “Wear something low-cut.”
“That is cheap and disgusting. . . and worth a shot.” I rolled my chair back from my desk and inspected my broken shoe. “Are you up to finishing the draft of this motion?”
“Sure,” Miles said. “Go get him, tiger. But take my advice and go home and freshen up first.”
“That bad?” I asked.
“Girl, your hair looks like it went through a hay bailer. Change into something cuter. And do I even need to mention the shoes?
I sighed and limped out the door.
***
When I pulled into my driveway, the looming afternoon shadows of PetroPlex’s largest refinery draped my sorry excuse for a rental house. The refinery was one of the largest in Texas and the town’s supporting industry, employing over 1500 of Kettle’s total population of 4000. The regional corporate headquarters were attached to this refinery and employed another 500 people. The complex was large and situated smack in the middle of town, right in everyone’s backyard. Here, workers refined over 140 million gallons of crude oil into gasoline and other substances every day.
Residents whose property abutted the refinery, like mine did, were used to living under the refinery’s continuous cloud of smoke and the frequent spurts of fire from the safety flares, which ignited every time the refinery needed to burn off excess vapors. Every now and then, something would go wrong, and the neighborhood would be filled with the smell of toxic chemicals. Sometimes alarms would even go off, warning nearby residents to stay indoors and seal the cracks in windows and doors with wet towels to keep the chemicals from getting in.
Worst of all were the explosions, and there had been a few. Most of them were minor, but several years ago a large one had killed ten people and shook the neighborhood’s foundations.
I hobbled out of my car, grabbed the mail, and stumbled inside, kicking off the now defunct Louboutins. My long-haired Chihuahua/Sheltie mutt Lucy (so named for her red head—a characteristic she shared with me) raced towards me and jumped up and down, tongue lolling out, eyes wide. I put my stuff down and scooped her up to pet her hello. She licked my face and I kissed her on the head. “Are you hungry?” I asked.
She responded by leaping out of my arms and racing to the back bedroom where I kept her food bowl. I followed her, scooped some food into her bowl, and returned to the kitchen to look at the mail.
Bills, bills, and bills, all of which were 60-90 days late. Student loans in excess of six figures. Electricity. Phone and Internet. No cable, though—I had long since let that go. I swore out loud when I saw a demand letter from my landlord. I was sure to be evicted soon, at this rate. I really needed to settle a case and generate some cash.
There was also a notice from the City of Dallas threatening to repossess my dog if I didn’t send them proof of vaccination within seven business days. I figured I could at least safely ignore that one, since I didn’t live in Dallas anymore and I doubted they’d come all the way down here to get her. Still, I did need to find a way to pay for the vaccinations soon. Down here, you never knew what would jump out and bite you.
I threw open my pantry to see if maybe there was some hidden gem in there I had forgotten about. Sadly,