The Last Laugh novel Chapter 42

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Ace's POV:

The next day, we were Friday morning. I finished what I had to type for Heather and went to give it to her.

"Here." I handed over the papers, after greeting her.

"Thanks." she took them and kept the away. Then she looked at me "Uh, about yesterday, it was Shirley's idea." she blushed.

"I know. It's not like you." I smiled.

She raised a brow.

"What do you mean?"

"That it doesn't seem kind something you would come up with. You seem too innocent and timid."

She laughed.

"That's what people who don't know me well, think. I'm not that innocent, Ace."

"You sure? I doubt." I teased.

"People always say that about me. Yes, I can call myself good but innocent is a little exaggerated."

I pocketed my hands.

"Until you prove the contrary, that's how many, including myself, will see you."

"I don't care about many."

"But you care about me?" I teased.

She widened her eyes playfully and laughed a little.

"You're unbelievable. I didn't say that."

"But you didn't mention that you didn't care about my opinion either so..."

She rolled her eyes.

"Get out of my office, Ace." she said with a smile. I smiled back.

"As you say, boss. Call me when you need me." I winked at her and left the office.

After speaking to Heather anytime, I always had a smile on my face. I decided to go greet Christina.

I knocked at her door and she asked me to come in.

When I did, the smile on my face faded and I stopped dead in my tracks. Guess who was sitting right there and discussing with her.

Rob.

Yes, Rob.

A whole set of flashbacks returned to me on the spot. This was her sidekick or partner in crime.

The baldheaded ranch worker who'd flogged me and had beaten me up with the iron part of his heavy, leather belt back when I was a little helpless kid in that stable. The idiot who'd gone to get the bees to come pour them on me.

The one Christina had called for help the day my father had threatened to report her.

The one she'd called for help on the day my dad disappeared.

I wasn't a kid no more.

My dad had clearly been murdered.

And I saw no one else but him.

Age hadn't caught up with him that much. He still looked healthy. I felt my throat go dry.

He'd remained the thin ugly man with a ball head and a long red beard that I'd known as a kid.

If I had to punch him now, he'd probably fly across the room.

"Ace dear, why are you standing there lost?" Christina asked me.

"Oh, sorry." I approached them.