Chapter ThirteenEllie dropped the thumb drive onto the table at Ray's.
“There it is,” she said. “Three hundred sixty-five pages, one positive read-through on the first draft by Ginger. Dead Bang.”
“Done?” Sam asked from his seat, eyebrows up.
She nodded, smiling, put her hands on her hips. “As far as I'm concerned it is And Margo can choke on it, burn it, throw it out her window, I don't care.”
Sam laughed. “That's awesome, El. Really.”
“Thanks. Really.” She slid down onto the chair seat opposite Sam. Ray's was buzzing this afternoon, late summer sun convincing customers to come in for a cool pie shake. The place had become one of their unspoken neutral territories. Fewer glances and shaded whispers from the locals lately. Maybe this new…whatever this was…would work out between them.
