This was her third day. Her third day riding the subway to the office. A long two to three hours awaited her sitting in a waiting room staring at a bleach blonde assistant who would insist that her husband was not in. No. Wait. Ex-husband. She needed to get used to saying that. Used to thinking it. Either way, it was obvious that it was a lie. Where else was he going at seven in the morning each day? Avoiding her wasn't going to make her love him any more. That ship had sailed. She just wanted the papers signed so she could move on with her life.
She'd already packed her shit and found a low rent place to live. It wasn't the best neighborhood or anything, but she wasn't staying there alone. Some roommate she'd found on Craigslist had offered to pay 2/3 of the rent in exchange for the majority of the apartment. At the moment, Laney was sleeping on the couch, but it was a small price to pay for her marital freedom. Besides, all her stuff was in storage. And she was still young.
At the moment, she was staring out the window, her body swaying with the movement of the car, wondering if she should take further action with Tiffany, the woman her ex-husband was obviously fucking. She was just imagining ripping the girls tits off when her thoughts were interrupted. Startled, she jumped a little and turned to look toward the offending noise. A familiar face was looking back at her. One Noah Riley, man whom she'd deceptively flirted with on the beach, brother of that girl who shot Macy Jones and James Baker. It was hard to live on Frye's Island and not know everyone. It was even harder to walk around New York City and not run into one of them following their dreams.
"As a matter of fact, I am. Thanks." She smiled at him in that sarcastic way an annoyed person might. "Are you?"