Marital Bitch (Men with Badges) - By Jc Emery Page 0,67
another juice throwing incident, I grab Colleen by her elbow and escort her across the yard. Her head spins around to give Vicky a hateful look as I drag her away.
“You need to knock it off,” I growl.
“Or what?” Colleen crosses her arms over her chest and she smirks. I back her up against the fence and place my hands beside her head.
“You listen to me and you listen good, Frasier—you are going to be nice to Vicky because she’s my friend,” I say through clenched teeth. “You know, friends, like we are. Except that I’m not trying to knock her up. So please, be a little decent toward her, will you?” Colleen scowls at me, her jaw set and her chin in the air. She pokes my chest.
“And you listen to me, Patrick. I’m a Patrick now, too, so quit calling me Frasier! And as for Barbie Bitch over there, I’ll be nice to her when she stops trying to jump my husband!” I laugh at her defense.
“But I’m your husband in name only, remember? We’re friends, right, Frasier?” I’m trying to let it go, but I can’t. I’m just her friend.
A stray tear slips down her cheek. She brushes it away just as quickly. Here she goes again trying to make me feel bad for yelling at her. “Just do me a favor this time, and don’t sleep with her, okay?” I turn around and walk away. Colleen rushes past me into the house, sniffling all the way. I don’t even care. I’m just tired of her attitude.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
(Colleen)
Do you want a girl or a boy?
"YOU HAVEN'T PUT this many hours in since before you got married," Tim says from the door to my office. He lets out a yawn and rubs his eyes.
"Yeah," I respond and sit my pen down. I've been working on a game plan for the upcoming trial for hours now and yet nothing has come of it. I lean back and yawn, which causes Tim to yawn again. "It's getting late," I say, "You should go home to your wife."
"And you should go home to your husband," he smiles. I clear my throat and check the digital clock on my desk; it reads 9:30 p.m. Brad will be here any minute.
"Actually," I smile, "he's coming to pick me up. He should be here soon."
"He's picking you up?" Tim asks with raised eyebrows.
"He's working on some case that's shot his nerves. He just doesn't want me out at night alone," I nod. Tim rubs his chin in contemplation; most likely sizing himself up as a husband in comparison. Even when he’s being a shit, no one really compares to Brad.
"Well, one thing's for sure-- he must really love you," Tim says, throwing a wink in for good measure.
"You'd think," I mutter under my breath. My cell phone buzzes, signaling a new text message. It's Brad. He's pulling up to the building. "Well, he's here," I say, standing and collecting my things in my brief case.
"Have a good night, Colleen," he smiles. I shake my head and laugh at him. For a forty-year-old seasoned attorney, he still busts his ass like when he was a baby lawyer. "You go home and enjoy what's left of your night. I have a few more hours to put in." I nod and brush past him.
"Ah come on, Tim," I look back and grin. "Daddy owns the firm. Cut yourself some slack." He walks up beside me and thumps my shoulder with the prescription glasses in his hand.
"That is the reason I can't cut myself any slack," he says and walks away. "Go home, kid, your husband's waiting for you." I walk down the hall and get into the elevator, still smiling. It's a relief to have Tim back from the D.C. office where he had been transferred to on a temporary basis for the last six months. I don't feel so alone here now; stuck with just The Toad and his diaper-wearing imbecile father.
Downstairs in the lobby, the feeling of calm leaves me. Brad’s truck—which he has unfortunately named Sweetness—is parked in the fire lane right out front and he's gotten out; standing on the other side of the locked doors, waiting for me. Sheesh. I want to run out there and shake him and ask him why he insists on doing this if he thinks of me as just a friend. I can get home without incident. As he so kindly and continuously likes to point