The Employer

Chapter 24

Marc Nassar

"Why the fuck are you in a grouchy mood? I'm the one who's sitting in this God awful orange jumpsuit in handcuffs!" Herman, my client, says as he jingles the chains around his wrists against the plastic black table between us.

We're seated across from each other at a small rectangular table in a wide open room, also known as the prison's visitor space. The room, lit with natural sunlight from the small windows along the walls and the fluorescent beams overhead, has similar tables scattered throughout with plastic folding chairs at the longer edges. Inmates and their visitors at the tables throughout the room create a low hum of voices while guards in beige uniform keep a watchful eye over everything from nearby.

"I'm fine," I respond curtly as I shuffle through the paperwork in front of me.

"I'm no shrink, but you don't look or sound fine." He leans back and lifts a brow. "When's the last time you got laid?"

Images of a naked Celeste on her back flash to mind and my body heats. I somehow manage to keep a straight face as I continue shuffling through my notes, but I'm now forgetting what I'm looking for.

"God, it feels like it's been forever for me," Herman continues. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be in here though. They have some activities for us, and they even have a therapist who I can say whatever the fuck I want to."

I sigh and rake a hand through my hair. "I don't have too much time here, Herman. We need to talk about the appeal."

"Dr. Katz said it's good to let out what we're feeling. I hate his annoying voice, but that man has made some pretty fan-fuckin-tastic breakthroughs with me. You should talk to him sometime."

I nearly snort in Herman's face. "We're not here to discuss my mental health."

"Right, right. Alright, yeah, let's talk about how I can get the hell out of this place so I can retire on some remote island with lots of beautiful women."

I tuck my lips in, trying to mentally convince myself that I love my job. We continue going over my notes and strategies to help Herman get a revised sentence. While I've been trying to pour myself back into work, the reality is, it's been so hard to focus this week after everything that happened with Celeste. And today especially I've been in a shit mood because Vivian sent out a shit ton of invites for a party this weekend at my house.

It had completely slipped my mind that I agreed to let her throw a party at the house. Then, I woke up this morning to find a formal invitation in my inbox which stated I was cordially invited...Cordially invited to a party at my own fucking house...Cordially invited by Vivian Ellington and Marc Nassar.

Our names on the invite were in two thousand point font, and fancy cursive writing, twirled together—basically implying to everyone that Vivian and I are in some type of relationship. A few of my friends have already messaged asking about it, and warned me that Vivian isn't someone to get involved with. Apparently the word around town is that she's a "stage five clinger" and "not in a cute way" as a buddy of mine put it.

But there isn't even a situation between Vivian and I anymore. I haven't even thought about that woman since the night she planted a kiss on me when I gave her a ride back to her house and told her we should let things cool off.

But texts kept on streaming through this morning, prying into a situation that's not even a situation, and making my blood pressure rise. I tried calling Vivian up to get her to cancel things but she's been dodging every single one of my calls and messages. And according to Kristina, setup for the party has already begun at the house with vendors showing up unannounced.