Educational Experience

Chapter Thirty

The beginning of the end, at last. Goodness doesn't always triumph over evil...at least at first. And Colt has to face the consequences of his naivete and and a reality, or a version of the real world he tries to keep at bay--and away from the people he loves most.

And so...we have arrived at that slippery slope...

 I have to be cut to the quick to burst into tears—I mean I cry, but I don’t, like, bawl.

But I damned near did this time. I had to walk out of the room and just stand there in the fucking hallway to get my mind right.

It was one of those ginormous state government buildings over on Congress--the courts and whatnot are there, too. If some terrorist dropped a bomb in the middle of one of the big plazas there, they could cripple the whole county—the whole state, actually.

That’s why going into those buildings is like going through airport security now. You have to empty your pockets into little baskets, walk through the metal detector and slide your briefcases and whatnot on that conveyor thing while all these big, mean looking cops stand by, ready to take out that bad guy if the worst actually ever does happen.

But the bureaucrats rushing up and down that hallway were so wrapped up in red tape that they didn’t even notice this stupid kid standing there snuffling like 5-year-old who’d just gotten an ass whuppin’ in public. Which I sort of had, actually—that’s for sure how it felt. Like God had just reached down and slapped me upside the head.

After I’d been out there for a few minutes, LeeAnn came out, put her hand on my back and just stood there rubbing me, bless her. She knew better than to give me one of those phony speeches some people blurt out when they don’t know what else to say.

She’d told me to come alone, and to say nothing to anyone until we’d worked “this thing” out. So when she hit me with the news, I had no crew to cling to.

And when I finally managed to hiccup out a feeble little, “This is so fucked up,” she said, “It’s beyond fucked up. So we need to siddown and figure out what the hell to do about it, okay? C’mon. Let’s do this.”

After I’d sort of calmed down, she led me back into the little conference room, Chase Hardin, the youngest—and best--lawyer in the local firm we use was standing there looking sort of nervous.

I totally understood why. We’re their best clients. Their most important clients. You don’t get our kind of business in Tucson. So he wanted me happy. And I was definitely not happy.

I slumped into the big fake leather chair he’d hauled in from some other office he’d stolen it from while no one was looking because he’d anticipated my reaction, I guess. That’s what I liked about him. He didn’t think like a young guy. He thought like a smart guy, a guy who liked to win.

It was in his DNA, that need to win. His dad had been some big deal coach at the U of A that people always mentioned whenever he introduced himself. Legend material, his father.

But Chase was no “jock.” He was a friggin’ shark--Johnette’s Harvard boy was never going to be as sharp as him. Great White. Out for blood.

And boy, he needed to be. Because I was definitely in over my head.

So he’d taken off his jacket and sort of half rolled up his sleeves like he was getting down to some serious business. And he was reading me with those steel grey eyes, too. He’s like a really good con artist or poker player, Chase. If your sweat falls a certain way, he knows what that means. And how to fuck you up with it.