Hunger Moon Rising Read online

  It looked like they were going to come to blows—right there in my brand new crappy office—the one I’d only been in a week. The one I got at a reduced rent because I promised the landlord I was going to run a quiet, orderly office—so quiet, in fact, that he wouldn’t even know I was there. In just a minute, everybody in the building was going to know I was there—especially if the punches started flying.

  I had to do something, fast.

  Jumping up, I pulled off one of my heels and pounded on my cheap plywood desk with it with a loud, thwak, thwak, thwak!

  “Daniel! Jacob!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “Both of you sit down now!”

  That got their attention. Both of them were breathing hard and glaring at each other but finally they sat down in my cheap plastic Wal Mart chairs again.

  “Now listen up,” I said, narrowing my eyes at both of them. “I’ve had about enough of you two. I told you at the beginning of all this that I am not a divorce lawyer. I’m just a humble paralegal who hands out paperwork and helps you fill it out. I do not get paid enough to listen to all your crap. I don’t care why you’re getting a divorce. I don’t care who’s sleeping with who or who gave who herpes! And I most especially don’t care who gets to keep Mr. Goddamn Puppers!”

  “Well!” Daniel sucked in his breath and Jacob looked shocked.

  “That’s right,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “I can cuss too…but I’d rather not.” I took a deep, calming breath and settled lightly back behind my desk, slipping my shoe back on as I did. “Now why don’t we all try to talk this out rationally? I know you want to end your marriage but there’s no reason to end it badly. Have some dignity—some self respect.”

  “She’s right,” Jacob said stiffly. “I shouldn’t have called you fat.”

  “You didn’t just call me fat. You called me a ‘fat gluten hog,’” Daniel reminded him icily.

  “Daniel…” I put a warning tone in my voice. I’m not a mom but I can do a fair imitation of one when I want to. That’s what being raised by my Aunt Celia with my six rowdy cousins got me.

  “Oh…all right.” Daniel gave his partner a sulky look. “I’m sorry I said anything about the herpes. And your seaweed rolls.”

  “Good, this is good.” I steepled my fingers and regarded both of them. “Now I can tell that both of you really love, uh, Mr. Puppers. So in the interest of getting these papers signed and your divorce underway, why don’t we talk about a visitation schedule?”

  So, we talked…

  It took five hours to iron things out. Five freaking hours, otherwise known as my entire afternoon. Seriously, from noon to five I was busy making sure both my clients got enough quality time with their French Bulldog-labradoodle mix.

  I’m not even a dog person.

  If I had been a lawyer billing by the hour, I would have made so much money in the time it took to straighten things out. However, since I’m just a lowly paralegal, I was only making the fee I charged them to go over the paperwork in the first place.

  I think it worked out to something like less than minimum wage—plus it gave me a pounding headache. When the two of them left, still glaring daggers at each other but with all papers signed and sealed, I collapsed and put my head on my desk, an Ikea special. The scent of plywood and cheap varnish assaulted my nose. I’d almost made enough during my hellish encounter to pay for it.

  Almost.

  I sat up and rubbed my temples. What a freaking mess—and to think I’d been so excited to have my first real clients! They had seemed like such a nice couple over the phone—Danny and Jakie they called themselves. I had been surprised they wanted a divorce at all, they seemed to get along so well.

  So much for that.

  I wished for the hundredth time that I could get some work that didn’t involve divorce. I knew that sometimes dissolving a relationship was necessary—I’d had to dissolve my own to my no-good ex, Phillip, who was real piece of work. But still, I would much rather be putting people together than tearing them apart.

  “Should have been a wedding planner instead,” I muttered to myself. But it would cost way more to get that business off the ground than just striking out on my own as a paralegal. So for now, at least, it looked like I was stuck doing quickie divorces for unhappy couples who wanted to murder each other right in my office.

  With a sigh, I heaved myself to my feet. It wasn’t a very auspicious beginning for my new paralegal firm—which had exactly one employee—me. But at least today was over. I could go back home to my tiny apartment which I now had all to myself since I’d kicked Phillip out two months ago, take an aspirin and a hot bath, and try to relax.

  I trudged out the door and the long flight of stairs that led from the second floor to the first. I could have taken the elevator but it stuck between floors sometimes—a fact I’d found out the hard way my first day there. It was strictly stairs for me from then on.

  I passed my neighbor in the hallway—a skinny twenty-something guy with fish-belly white skin and dirty blond hair twisted into long, scraggly dreadlocks. He had a Rastafarian air about him and always wore one of those multicolored Jamaican berets which looked like it desperately needed a trip through the washing machine.

  “Hey, pretty lady.” He nodded at me genially. “What it do?”

  “Hi.” I gave him a curt nod back. He was supposed to be a barber but none of the customers I ever saw going into his office—which was two doors past mine at the end of the hall—ever looked any different when they left. Well, their hair didn’t anyway. Also, I often caught a waft of suspicious smelling smoke coming from the crack under his door. While I wasn’t a hundred percent sure my neighbor was a drug dealer, I also wasn’t surprised to see that his clientele usually had bloodshot eyes and dazed looks on their faces when they wandered out of his office.

  There was nothing I could do about my suspicions, so I kept them to myself. Beggars couldn’t be choosers and office space was expensive in Tampa. The small eight by ten cell of an office I was renting was pretty much the cheapest in the city. I knew because I’d shopped around a lot before settling on this place and giving my notice to my old law firm of Lauder, Lauder and Associates to strike out on my own.

  At least I’m out of there, anyway, I thought, heading out into the parking lot where my beat up Honda Civic was parked. L.L. and A. had been an awful place to work, especially after my best work buddy, Zoe, ran off with a secret fiancé none of us knew about.

  I frowned when I remembered the mysterious circumstances of her leaving. She’d vanished right out of the building—right out of the employees’ bathroom, in fact. She hadn’t given notice or anything and for a while, everyone thought she’d been kidnapped or abducted or something. Her two best friends, nice girls named Charlotte and Leah, had even insisted on opening a missing person’s case on her and hiring a private detective to find her.

  It still seemed strange to me that Zoe would leave in such an abrupt way without giving notice at work or telling the people she loved most what was happening to her. But she must have had her reasons. I had met her friend Leah again recently, when she was looking for help with her divorce, and she’d assured me that Zoe was fine. According to Leah, she had simply been whisked away to some south sea island where there was no phone signal by her eager fiancé who kept her there for a romantic, extended honeymoon.

  “Huh,” I muttered to myself as I joggled the Civic’s door to get it to open. It was more than halfway broken and stuck almost every time I got in or out of the door but I couldn’t afford to have it fixed right now. “Wish somebody would whisk me away from all this crap!”

  I had no idea that anyone was watching me at the time and even less idea that my half-formed wish would soon become a reality. If I had, I probably would have clamped my lips shut and gone home to hide under the bed, away from any shiny, reflective surfaces.

  But I didn’t have a clue. I started the car and drove away from my crappy little office for the last time, not h