How to Stay Out of Prison: A Modern-Day Woman's Guide

Chapter 9

Lyrical~

Whoever said that being a ninja wasn't hard obviously hadn't ever tried being a ninja. Seriously, adopting the skill of stealth was a hard sonofabitch.

Like a coward, I had spent the last few days coming and going from my apartment through back and side entrances to avoid any chance of the possibility of running into Nixon St. James or that jackass brother of his. Ugh, I still couldn't believe that I thought that the man was sexy. I mean, sure he was hot as hell; they both were. Still, I didn't have to like it.

Then holy six-pack Batman, when Alice had pulled up a picture of all the St. James men, I'd had to get an extra napkin to wipe the drool off my face. Why did The Lord do that? I mean, wasn't there a standard in a family where you had one hot brother, one nerdy brother, and one ugly brother? Didn't they have to balance the universe out? Why would God create three-count them, THREE-absolute male perfections and put them all in the same family? I bet the dad was hot, too.

Meanwhile, over here in Rodgers Land, Alice had stunning auburn hair, fierce green eyes, and was slim, but feminine. However, me? I was shaped like a pear. I was shaped like the fruit that was left lonely in the fruit bowl after everyone's eaten the apples, oranges, bananas, and nectarines. It was straight up bullshit if you asked me.

Also, because it wasn't enough that I was as sexy as a pear, I'd had to go and humiliate myself in front of, not one, but two sex gods, and now I had to live the rest of my life hiding in shadows and trying to blend in with the homeless.

Yeah, I could move back home, but I wasn't too eager to hear my parents going at it at night any more than they were eager to have to keep it down because I could hear them going at it. So, I had decided that I wasn't going to move unless Mr. St. James really did evict me.

God, I hope that he didn't evict me.

"You're not going to be evicted, Lyric," Rena said, echoing my thoughts.

I looked up at her from where I was sitting on the couch. "You can't know that for sure," I argued.

It was Friday night, one week after the 'incident', and we were vegging out in my apartment, drinking this shitastic week away. Sure, things were great at work, but trying to break in and out of your own home, unseen, took a lot of damn work, and it was exhausting as hell.

"Lyric, it's been a week," she reasoned. "I'm sure you would have gotten a notice or something by now, don't you think?"

"Maybe," I conceded, though still not entirely positive.

Nevertheless, I needed to come up with a better plan than becoming a ninja. My paranoia was the reason that we were staying in and drinking tonight, instead of heading out to a club and getting drunk enough to jump a random stranger. I was afraid that in my inebriated state, I would forget my ninja commitments, then accidently show myself out in the open for Mr. St. James to pounce on.

Granted, my nether regions weren't objecting to his possible pouncing, but I didn't think that my mind and body were on the same pouncing page.

Rena sat down next to me, handing me a shot of tequila. "Why don't you just bite the bullet and go talk with him? Clear the air," she suggested.

Now, stop!

While her suggestion might have merit, I wasn't sure if he'd agree to an appointment to speak with me after everything that I accused him of. So, then that would mean that I'd have to show up at his office unannounced, and depending on how my arrival was embraced, my mind was conjuring up all kinds of images of me running from his security until I was caught by the actual law, and then being charged with trespassing and running from the police, and believe you me, you did not want to go down that road. Trespassing charges could lead to restraining orders, and that shit stayed on your record forever. So, for the rest of your life, you were going to have to explain how your crazy actually reached the level to warrant a restraining order.