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My career…

My reputation…

It’s over.

All of it.

File after file, telling me my win, my multi-million dollar defense… all of it is based on lies.

“Fuck!” I shout, slamming my palm against the wheel.

The buzzing in my head is gone along with the numbness in my chest, and all the shock and pain and pure, unadulterated outrage rush back like a wall of water before a hurricane.

A hurricane that will send everything I’ve worked for these last ten years crashing down around me.

Pulling the handle on the door, I push it open and step out into the darkness. The ground is covered in moldering leaves, and it smells like faintly mildewed canvas, damp lichens, and dirt.

“Jackson! What are you doing?” Tiffany shrieks between splashes out in the black water of the lake.

Exactly. “What the fuck am I doing here?”

My chest is tight, and each inhale is like claws ripping my lungs from the inside.

It took an hour to drive from my Eighth Avenue high-rise corner office building to this lonely, two-lane highway leading to the lake. Somewhere along the way, I realized I didn’t know what the fuck Tiffany was talking about or why she was even in my car. She followed me down the elevator, into the parking garage, laughing and pouring another shot of tequila on the way.

I’ve got the fucking receptionist with me.

I need to get her back to the city.

Digging in the pocket of my blazer, I pull out my phone and stare at the face. My lock screen is a photo of crystal blue waters, and for a moment, my thoughts blur. I left my home near the ocean with big dreams.

Half of them came true.

I finished undergrad at the top of my class, went to law school on a free-ride, headed straight into a Top Five firm when I graduated, and now I’m one of the highest-paid litigators handling mostly corporate corruption with the occasional car crash thrown in for variety.

My face is in every “Top Thirty under Thirty” feature in the city and online. My phone never stops ringing.

My fucking dad is so fucking proud.

I’ve done it all.

And I’m all alone.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” Dropping my chin, I rub my eyes.

The shush of feet running through the leaves is punctuated with high giggles breaking the silence. My eyes have adjusted to the semi-darkness, and I see Tiffany coming back, completely naked, blonde hair glistening with water, tits bouncing with every step.

“What are you doing back here?” Her voice is thick, and she curves into my chest, holding my neck and trying to kiss me.

She’s slippery and loose. Her kiss is easy to dodge, but not her wet body pressing against my dress shirt.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” My jaw tightens, and I lift my chin away from her face.

“God, you’re so hard,” she giggles. My brow furrows. I’m not the least bit aroused. “Like a wall of granite.”

“Look, Tiff, I’m calling you a Lyft.” I’m back to tapping my phone. “What’s your address?”

“What?” she whisper-shrieks. “Wait a second—”