Felony Ever After

by Helena Hunting

  Crouching down, she hovered as close as she could without scaring the bee away and snapped a dozen pictures. She swiped through the shots, smiling to herself at the vivid colors and the angle of the little bee.

  “Hope you’re not slacking at your job…”

  For a second, Verity wasn’t sure if the raspy voice was real or she’d slipped back into her daydream until she felt his warm breath on her neck. Then everything became like a bad sitcom.

  Verity startled, teetering back and forth before she lost her footing and tipped forward. Her phone slipped from her hand and collided with the purple bellflower. The bee that had been peacefully sipping the nectar was not happy about being disturbed and became angry. Very angry. It flew into Verity’s mass of dark waves, which she proceeded to swat at like a madwoman. She stood, jumping around like, well, a girl with a bee about to sting her—and dropped her coffee just before she smacked the bee against her skin. Unfortunately, she hit him a millisecond too late, since he’d already stung her neck.

  “Ouch! Oh my God! It bit me!”

  “Stung, not bit.”

  “Who cares! Whatever it did, it hurt.”

  “You’re not allergic are you?”

  Verity became nervous. She very well could be allergic. She was allergic to so many other silly things. Tree nuts, grass, pollen, cockroaches. Why did they even test for cockroach allergies? Does anyone really need to know they are allergic to that? I mean, it’s not like anyone actually thinks, Hmmm… I’m not allergic; I’ll keep this one as a pet.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been stung before.”

  Hudson pulled her hand away from her neck and leaned in. “Doesn’t look any different than a regular sting.”

  “What are you, a bee sting expert?” Verity scowled.

  “I’m just trying to help.”

  “Yeah, well…” She bent and picked up her phone and her now empty coffee cup from the cement. At least she hadn’t kicked over Lay’s coffee when she flailed all over the place thanks to the bee, just her own. “You’ve helped enough today.”

  “What were you doing down there anyway?”

  She smoothed her skirt and wiped away imaginary dirt. “I was taking a picture of a bellflower with the bee on it.”

  “Well, did you get it?”

  “Get what?”

  “The picture.”

  She remembered the beauty of the shot she’d captured, and it softened her mood. “Yeah, actually I did.”

  Hudson held out his hand. “Let me see.”

  She hesitated, but eventually offered him her phone. He swiped through slowly. “These are great. This one would make a kick-ass tat.”

  He was right. The picture he’d stopped at was the best one and would look incredible on the right person’s skin. Maybe someone with smooth, tanned skin… and some tattoos that ran up his neck.

  “Listen. About the other day—” Verity began. “I’m sorry. We keep a fund for tipping messengers, and I forgot to give you yours. I didn’t realize until after you left.”

  He shrugged. “That’s okay. Maybe I’ll take this as a tip—with photo credit, of course.” He punched a bunch of numbers into her phone and hit send before handing it back to her.

  “You sent yourself the picture?”

  “I like it.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “I better get back. Mr. Lay is going to have my ass if I hand him cold coffee.”

  “Mr. Lay is going to have your ass? Sounds like you offer a wide array of reception services.”

  Verity actually chuckled. “Are those for me?” She pointed to the brown boxes in his bag.

  “You want my package, don’t you?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Verity walked toward the building and entered the revolving glass door. Hudson jumped into the small compartment with her, following close behind. Simple door etiquette dictated waiting for your own compartment to swing around. Apparently no one gave Hudson the memo. Even in the elevator, he stood a little too close. She wasn’t sure if he was actually invading her personal space or she was imagining things—the way she’d imagined him invading her last night. She shook her head and walked around her desk, forcing some space between them.

  She signed for the two packages, and this time she remembered to tip him. The phone rang as she handed him the clipboard and cash. “SalesExportt.com. Verity Michaels speaking. How may I help you?”

  The caller rattled on about something or the other, but Verity was too engrossed in watching Angie approach and size up Hudson to understand. Her friend licked her painted red lips as she arrived at the desk.

  “Can I help you with something?” Angie asked.

  “Nah. All good.” Unlike every other man on the planet, Hudson’s eyes didn’t bulge as he got a look at Angie. He scribbled something on the delivery confirmation sheet and ripped it from the pad. “Have a good one,” he said as he set it on the desk. He left before Verity could get the caller off the phone.

  “Who the hell was that?” The receiver wasn’t even away from Verity’s ear yet when Angie started to pepper her with questions. “Did you see his ass in those jeans?”

  “That’s the guy I told you about the other day.”

  “What guy?”

  “The one who stole the cab while I was in it.”

  “That was the guy? You failed to mention the most important part: He’s seriously hot.”

  Verity shrugged, trying not to let her interest in Hudson show. Although she wasn’t sure why she wouldn’t admit she thought he was good looking. Just then, Mr. Lay saved her from having to discuss it much more.

  “Thank heavens.” He almost ran from the elevator and reached for his tall coffee. He peeked at Angie over the brim as he drank from it, dribbling a bit on his tie. Now that was the usual reaction men had around her. Not the non-reaction Tattoo had.

  When Mr. Lay didn’t seem interested in returning to his office, Angie decided it was time for her to go. “Drinks after work tomorrow tonight?” she asked as she backed away.

  Lay leaned over on the reception desk like he was part of their knitting circle, wiping at his tie and nodding.

  Angie waited for an awkward minute until Lay backed away from their conversation and reluctantly hit the elevator button. When the doors closed behind him, she shook her head. “How does that man even manage to get his pants on in the morning? I’ve never seen someone so oblivious to social clues in my life.”

  “I’m in for drinks tomorrow,” Verity said. “Hopefully I can get out of here on time.”

  Angie looked at the elevator Mr. Lay had disappeared into and then back to Verity. “Doesn’t matter. Just buzz me when you’re on the way. I told a friend I’d meet him at the Library Bar near Columbus Circle.”

  The phone rang, and Verity nodded to Angie as she ducked into the elevator. When things quieted down after a string of calls, she finally noticed three things piled at the corner of her desk: The delivery confirmation, a bright purple bellflower, and the five-dollar tip she had given Hudson. He’d written two words in the corner of the invoice and signed it with an H. Lucky bee.

  ***

  The next afternoon as Verity walked back from lunch, she looked over at where she’d fallen yesterday. “What the—?” She actually said the words out loud. The uniform line of bellflowers on the left side of the plaza was completely gone. The right side appeared intact.

  She shook her head and continued inside, but her steps slowed as she got closer to her workstation. On top of the reception desk—her desk—was a vase full of vividly colored bellflowers. The same flowers she’d photographed outside yesterday. “What the—?”

  As she moved around to sit at her desk, she noticed a package. It must have been delivered while she was at lunch. It was bigger than the last one, but the colorful duct tape was exactly the same. And when she lifted it, the thing was again light as air. She shook it, and just as she brought it to her ear, the elevator doors slid open to reveal Mr. Lay. He glowered at finding her
investigating the box. He said nothing as he hastily stepped toward Verity, snatched it from her hands, and returned to the still-waiting elevator car.

  After all that, she hadn’t thought the day could get any stranger. But damn, was she wrong.

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  He programmed his number in my phone & I’m out drinking tomorrow #Bootycall #Don’tDoIt #DoIt

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  The Library Bar is located in the Hudson Hotel. Coincidence? I think not. #PoundingAtTheHudson #PoundHudson #Shit

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  The box is back. What’s in the damn boxes?

  Chapter 4

  Crazy Girl

  K.A. Robinson

  Eight o’clock. The jackass had kept her working that late. Well, actually the should-be-retired Marge had decided afternoon Bingo was a job perk and left Verity to organize and print everything she’d been in charge of, but Verity felt like blaming Lay.

  And he was still around for her to do so. He should have gone home hours ago, but she’d found him doing lunges in sweatpants and a tank top in the hall when she went to the copier. She’d given him a nod, and he’d given her the finger guns. Was he staying because he knew she had plans with Angie? Ugh.

  Her (Marge’s) tasks finally complete, Verity sent Angie a quick text before rushing to the bathroom to freshen up her makeup.

  We might have company tonight. Larold will not leave!

  As soon as she saw her reflection, she winced. A day at work could really screw up a girl’s appearance. Her hair was all over the place, probably because she had repeatedly run her hands through it in aggravation. Her eyeliner was smudged around her gray eyes. Overall, she looked like a streetwalker—and not the well-paid kind.

  She sighed as she ran a brush through her hair and reapplied her makeup. She felt less than enthused with the results, but they would have to do. Angie was waiting for her. Well, Angie and some seriously strong alcohol, which was what she needed after an extended day with Mr. Lay.

  Outside the building, she hailed a cab and clambered inside, grumbling as she went. This was the third cab she’d been in in less than a week, but she couldn’t stomach the train at this moment. At least this driver seemed halfway civil.

  She chuckled to herself, earning a weary look from the cabbie, as she imagined him in a fight. This time she would be the one to steal the cab, she thought recklessly. But the idea was laughable. She didn’t have the balls to do something so crazy. She was the girl who’d just stayed three hours at work finishing someone else’s job. Tattoo, on the other hand…

  When the cab pulled up in front of the Library Bar, Verity paid and climbed out, her mind still on Hudson. As she showed her ID at the door, she reminded herself she had his cell number. It had been nagging at her constantly, but she’d managed to push it aside. Not a crazy girl, remember? But now that alcohol was entering the mix, she wondered if she’d be able to resist temptation.

  Verity spotted Angie sitting at the bar with a man she didn’t recognize. She waved as Verity made her way over to them.

  “I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to show up,” Angie said as Verity plopped onto the bar stool next to her and set her purse by her feet.

  “Marge and her Bingo addiction kept me late. I had to hide in the bathroom and then sneak out to prevent Larold from following me here like a lost puppy. He was wearing sweats,” she added before ordering a drink.

  Angie’s eyebrows soared, but Verity felt too tired to comment further as she glanced around the room. Couples on the dance floor seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. Booths along the far wall had more couples stashed away inside, doing lord knows what within the shadows.

  She frowned at the thought of all those leaving here in pairs tonight. They’d hail a cab, make out in the back seat—which, hello, was why she hated touching anything in cabs—and then go back to an apartment to make the walls shake.

  Verity looked down at her fingers on the bar. It seemed like years since she’d seen action with anything besides her hand.

  “Hey, what’s that face for?” Angie asked.

  “Hmmm? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about the cruel injustices of life.”

  Angie laughed as the bartender set Verity’s drink in front of her. It barely touched the surface of the bar before she grabbed it and took a healthy swallow. Vodka and tonic. That hit the spot.

  “I suppose I should introduce you two, shouldn’t I?” Angie motioned between the man on her left and Verity. “Verity, this is Joseph. We go way back. Joseph, this is the girl I talk about from work all the time.”

  “Pleasure to meet you.” Joseph smiled at her and gave her a onceover, but not in a slime-ball kind of way. He seemed more curious than anything.

  “Likewise,” she said, studying him.

  He was probably in his early thirties, with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. He was attractive, but not someone she would stop to gawk at on the street. The fact that he was out with Angie, the queen of stunningly attractive men, surprised her. They really must go way back.

  Verity slurped the rest of her drink and motioned for the bartender to make another. She could feel herself on that precipice between normal and starting to buzz. After everything that had happened lately, she desperately wanted a trip into buzzed territory tonight. Maybe then she’d get a decent night’s sleep without Hudson starring in her very own porno.

  As she drank, she chatted with Angie and Joseph. Still, her mind kept drifting back to Hudson. Why wouldn’t he leave her brain? One of her dreams swam before her, and she instantly felt aroused. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, hating the fact that he could get to her without doing anything at all.

  Her phone was tucked away in her purse, but she could feel it calling. The alcohol flooding her system certainly wasn’t helping her reason her way back to sanity. Instead she picked up her purse and rummaged through it until she found her phone. As she pulled it out, her stomach dropped, and a sick feeling came over her.

  What are you doing? She couldn’t text a strange man she’d been dreaming about for days! That was not at all her style. Also, said man would be dropping things off at her work for who knows how long. She had to be able to face him.

  Resolved, she dropped her phone on the bar and picked up her drink. She sipped slowly, hoping to focus on its tangy taste rather than the tattooed man.

  It didn’t happen. Instead, as if acting on their own, her hands picked up her phone and clicked open her text messages. There he was, only a few texts down. Her fingers shook as she typed.

  Are you going to use my bee photo as a tattoo?

  She dropped her phone as if it had bitten her. She was such a fool. She looked over to see what her friend would have to say, but Angie and Joseph were occupied posting selfies and artsy shots of their drinks on Instagram. Whew. Before she could stew in her own stupidity for too long, a message came through from Hudson.

  Why?

  She tapped her fingers nervously against the bar before sending a response.

  Well, if you did, I’d expect some kind of compensation for my art.

  She had no idea what she was saying, but she couldn’t stop. She only wanted to keep him talking.

  Is that so? What kind of compensation did you have in mind?

  She bit her lip, imagining ways he could pay her back. None of them involved money. She struggled with her thoughts, trying to push them away. They weren’t going anywhere.

  Never mind. I’m out drinking with friends. We’ll talk compensation later.

  The humping dots appeared.

  If you’re out drinking, why did you text me?

  Her cheeks heated at being caught vying for his attention.

  My phone made me. It held me hostage until I sent you a message.

  She could envision his dimply smirk at her reply.

  Liar. Where are you?

  She didn’t see the point in lying. It wasn’t as though h
e’d have any interest in joining her at the bar.

  The Library Bar. Why?

  Instead of answering immediately, as he had before, Hudson didn’t respond. Verity’s eyes stayed glued to her screen, waiting. Nothing. Finally, after several minutes had passed, she texted him again.

  Hudson? Where’d you go?

  No response came. She shifted uneasily on her stool; all her worries about texting him in the first place returned.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Angie asked.

  Verity jumped. She’d forgotten Angie was sitting right beside her.

  “I’m fine.” Verity mumbled.

  “You sure? You seem kind of out of it tonight. Who were you texting?”

  “No one important.” Verity said, checking her phone again to make sure she hadn’t missed a message from Hudson. She had.

  Turn around.

  Verity slowly swiveled to look behind her. Her eyes widened when she saw Hudson standing only a few feet away.

  He grinned as he approached. “Mind if I take a seat?”

  Verity only nodded, unable to find her words.

  Hudson sat beside her. “I bet you’re wondering what I’m doing here, aren’t you?”

  Verity cleared her throat as she tried to find her voice. “Yes, I suppose I am.”

  “Well, I was in the area. When you said you were here, I had to come see for myself.”

  “See what?” she asked.

  “I wanted to see you drunk. You’re so tightly wound every time I see you. I thought you might be a little… looser tonight.” He smirked.

  “Are you asking if I’m loose?” Verity blurted.

  Hudson laughed. “Now, why would you think that?”

  “You should go,” she said, ignoring his question.

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar, and signaled the bartender over. “Oh, I think I’ll stick around for a while. Tonight is going to be interesting.”