Beating Ruby Read Online Free

days away from our big reveal, it still wasn’t stable. I could already guess I’d arrive at EMT to find Thom hunched over his keyboard, wearing yesterday’s shirt and scratching his head compulsively. I rubbed my eyes and sent him a reassuring e-mail that I’d show up even earlier than usual to investigate the incident and help him set Ruby back on track.
    I crawled out of bed and dragged myself to the living room, where I was greeted by the rich aroma of coffee. On our old green couch, Joy and the new love of her life were snuggling and dipping Oreos in their double espressos—a repulsive habit only they understood, and which contributed to bringing them closer. Joy pushed a heap of blonde curls from her left shoulder and appraised me with bashful cornflower eyes. She was wearing Vince’s shirt—something I understood to be mandatory when you’ve slept with a man—meaning he, of course, was only wearing silk boxer shorts, as usual. I didn’t care. Vince was cute enough, but he was also a pompous jerk in need of a haircut, and who shaved what little chest hair he had.
    With my leg razors.
    Yeah, I know. In North Korea, people get executed for that kind of stuff.
    “Sorry about the—” Joy waved a dismissive hand and had the good grace to blush.
    Vince didn’t. Slanted black eyes scanned the stormtroopers on my PJs as a grin lit his angular face, revealing teeth that seemed even whiter against his bronze skin and coal stubble. “Oh, so you were listening?”
    Like I had a choice. I fought a scalding blush and, from the corner of my eye, noticed that Joy’s foot was kicking her boy toy’s calf in a bid to prevent any further descent into assholism.
    “No . . . It’s . . . Never mind.” I averted my eyes, went to fix myself a bowl of Apple Jacks, and sat on a wooden chair by the window. I loved nothing more than that peaceful moment when I’d eat my breakfast watching the darkened street.
    Behind me, squeals suggested that Vince was about to ravish Joy on the couch. My window-daydreaming time now ruined, I got up and glanced at the two of them just long enough to see his hand retreat from under the wrinkled gray shirt.
    Joy’s voice stopped me halfway to the kitchen as she let go of Vince to join me and carry both their cups toward the sink—where they’d make a nice addition to our rapidly growing pile of dishes. “How did it go last night with Jesus?”
    I cringed. “Please don’t call Alex that.”
    “You came home pretty late . . . but you came home,” she replied with a wink.
    “We just had a drink at his hotel’s bar.”
    How foolish of me to think that Joy wouldn’t pick up on that particular detail. As her eyes lit up, I could practically see the report writing itself in her mind.
     
    The defendant loaded herself with strawberry gin cocktails and agreed to follow Mr. Morgan to his hotel room at 10:49. To have wild, rampant sex all over the furniture.
     
    I took a wary step back. “It wasn’t like that.”
    “Aw, come on! You and Alex aren’t kids!” Joy groaned.
    On the couch, Vince finally expressed interest in our conversation. “Does he have, like, a problem with his dick? I knew this guy who had stuck a Polly Pocket shoe in there in first grade, and after that, he couldn’t—”
    “No! I don’t think . . . I mean, I’m sure it’s working fine!” I pictured myself hurling my dirty bowl at Vince’s face.
    Joy seemed to consider rinsing the cups for a second, before abandoning them to their fate and walking out of the kitchen. “I need to get ready for court, but tonight we’ll have to further investigate the issue.”
    Family lawyer, sexologist, urologist—was there anything Joy couldn’t do? Yeah, the dishes. I shrugged and rinsed my bowl, because March had made me a new and better person. Meanwhile, she flung herself back on the couch and into Vince’s waiting arms with a catlike grin. I frowned down at the war zone in our sink and the lime building up on