Chapter 7
Nia pressed her fingers against her temple, beginning to massage. Uggh. She dragged herself from the Audi into the small, blue door of the restaurant.
Whispers ensued. She quickened her pace. She nodded at watchful eyes until she reached the door of her office. She shut the door and removed her dark sunglasses.
An awkward silence stiffened the air. She plopped down in the black, leather office chair and looked at the handwritten notes scattered on the desk. Jess sick Sunday. Plumber coming Tuesday. Marguerite Stanley payroll.
When will it ever stop? She pulled out a drawer, studying the contents. She slammed it shut and spotted a cabinet on the wall. She walked over and opened it. Tylenol. She peered at the small stamped date on the cap. 04/15/15. f**k. She opened the bottle
