“We’re going out,” Ford told him, and then he looked at me. “Because I need a f*****g drink.”
“Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?” I asked.
“Jesus f*****g Christ,” Ford groaned. “Dominick, either meet us at Jenner’s or we’ll see you at the bar.”
I checked the time at the top of my monitor.
I had three hours.
Except I needed that drink now.
Ford left, and I looked at Dominick. “Any reason we should wait until eight to start drinking?”
He came into my office and took a seat in front of my desk. “Hell no.”
“Perfect answer.”
I walked to the wet bar in the back of the room—one of the first things I’d had built when I took over this space. Fresh out of law school, I’d told my parents that clients would be impressed by it. In all actuality, it was for circumstances like thi
