Off Limits Read Online Free Page A

big a bite, because the cold starts to pool against the roof of my mouth and sends tendrils of pain shooting into my forehead.
    Ugh. Brain freeze.
    I keep eating the ice cream anyway, wincing as I do.
    “How much say are you going to have? I mean . . . okay, so he’s a manwhore and a bit of a creep. But you said he’s Stuyvesant’s favorite, right? Kind of like how you’re Paul’s fave? So maybe he’s a good lawyer, even if he’s a shitty person. You can stick it out for one case, right?”
    Trust Heather to always look on the bright side. She has a point, though. For as notoriously judgmental, aggressive and condescending as Anthony Stuyvesant is, any protégé of his must at least be competent in the courtroom. “True. It’s just . . . ugh, this is going to be a long one, I can already feel it. I spent all afternoon buried in the files. I’m just not loving the fact that not only will I have to work overtime and weekends for yet another month, I’ll have to do most of it with someone I don’t like.”
    “For a month? Really?” There’s a new note in Heather’s voice now. Hurt.
    I blink a few times. Shit. What have I forgotten now? “Yes, probably. I mean, I’m just guessing. I guess it depends on how the case goes. Why?”
    Her voice goes small and quiet. “Did you forget about our plans on the twentieth?”
    I chew on the corner of my lip, even as I whip my Blackberry from my purse. “Of course I didn’t forget,” I say, speaking slowly to stall for time as I scroll frantically through my calendar.
    “I know that voice, Chloe MacIntyre,” Heather snaps. “That’s the I’m double-checking right now voice.”
    “It is not!” I protest. Aha. Twentieth to the twenty-first. Shit. Weekend away at the spa Heather found a coupon for. It was supposed to be our impromptu girl retreat. Nails, hair, massages, facials, the works. Plus, they have a Jacuzzi thing with all these salt crystals or something that was supposed to feel like heaven floating around in. “I was really looking forward to the spa weekend. I mean, I am really looking forward to it, assuming I can finish enough of the case by then to—”
    “Ugh. Forget it. Why do I even bother, Chlo? Honestly. It’s like being friends with a robot. No, not even a robot—I’m pretty sure even robots power down for a couple hours at a time. Do you even remember the last time we had a conversation in person, face-to-face?”
    “Of course I do. We went for drinks at that rooftop bar, and the cute waiter hit on you.”
    “That was four months ago, Chloe. Did you know that? Four months. I live less than a twenty-minute drive from you. That’s weird, okay?”
    “It’s been a really hectic few months,” I mumble halfheartedly. “As soon as things calm down a little—”
    “Things are never going to calm down. Not until you make them. You need to start prioritizing your life, too. Not just your career path.”
    I bite back an easy for you to say . Because that’s not fair. Heather doesn’t want the same kinds of things that I do. She’s happy to run her flower shop, spend her days arranging bouquets for weddings, and take as much time off as she wants to travel, explore, eat out, go on dates.
    Sometimes I wish I could be more like her. But every night when I close my eyes, I can still picture Mom’s place. The crappy closet of an apartment she was stuck in. The ramen noodles she lived on, except when I forced better food on her during a visit. She spent her whole life indulging—buying whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and working a crappy retail job, maxing out credit cards to support herself.
    She spent the last years of her life in a hovel.
    I need to avoid that. I need to do better. And I need to support her, too. It might be her fault she’s broke, but I’m not letting her suffer just because she wasn’t a practical kid.
    That’s my job. Being the practical one.
    I thought Heather and I could bridge the gap between our lives,