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What's the best way to cope with a shity situation? Easy, leave town. That is just what I did. I left. I couldn't sleep, so I went to Chicago.
Chicago, why?
Simple, I need relationship advice, and who better to ask than your single friend? Miles Reid.
I walk inside his bar and notice him standing by the bar, directing the staff.
"What lawyer decides to take a vacation two days before a murder trial?" Miles asks, a wide smile on his face as he opens his arms.
"The one who knows she is going to win." I smile as I rush into his arms and give him a bear hug. He nearly squeezed the life out of me.
"I was missing your crazy ass. It's boring here." He frowns now, replacing his dimpled smile.
"I know, trust me," I mumble as I take a step back.
He indicates for me to follow him into his office, where we sit.
"So what the fuck happened because you wouldn't be here when you have a high-profile client." He glanced at me with concern, his grey eyes covered. Miles and I met in Harvard; he was also going to be a lawyer until he decided to 'screw this stuff' and become a businessman instead. He grew up in a rough part of Toronto and is now one of the country's richest men. He now owns bars, hotels, clubs, and even buildings.
"Dude, the case is so messed up, every time I think of a lead it turns out to be bullshit, Essence has been trying to help but her hands are tied because Deluca's entire case is on the shoulders of cops." I sigh, my head resting on his office table.
"So? It's nothing new, you've been in this situation a million times." He flicks my head making me look up and offers him my middle finger to which he just rolls his eyes.
"His brother also asked me to marry him" I mutter.
"Deluca's? Ew, he's fucking ugly." Miles says with distaste in his voice.
"NO NO, what the fuck Carson's brother you dumbass," I exclaim, wide-eyed. Deluca's brother could literally be my father. He was about 50 years old and broke.
"Ares Koslov, holy shit" he said.
"Yea." I sigh.
"Your expression says you don't want to talk about it, so let's forget about it and do something crazy." He says this while smirking at me.
"Like, like what?" I inquire cautiously.
"Like jumping out of a plane."
______________________
"Fuck Fuck Fuuuckkk." Miles mutters as he looks down. The skydiving instructor strapped to his back. We were currently 13,500 ft high and Miles was rethinking every decision he's ever made in his life.
I'd always wanted to skydive; I'd done bungee jumping, scuba diving, and ziplining, but never skydived, until today.
I was all happy and jittery whereas Miles looked like he would kill the instructor if he jumped out. The videographer exited the plane first, clinging onto the plane's outer bars.
