Free This Is How It Happened by Jo Barrett

Got some vampire lawyer involved. Calling and threatening to sue me for breach of contract and all this nonsense. Cause I was two days late with his marketing plan.
    I decided it wasn’t worth the headache to fight him, Maddy. Come to find out later, he used my entire marketing plan. Word for word. Every inch of it. Didn’t pay me a dime.”
    I sit back in my chair. “Wow,” I say. “I barely know Mr. Connors. I’ve only met him a few times.”
    Henry pokes his finger in the air. “An old Polish proverb is ‘forgive your enemies, but never forget their names.’ I’ll never forget Forest Connors. Granted it was twenty-five years ago,” he says. “But I hear he’s still a ball buster, plain and simple.”
    Henry sighs and leans back in his chair, hands behind his head like an executive. “I wouldn’t trust him with my dry cleaning, kiddo.”
    “What should I do?”
    “Cancel the meeting. You don’t want to get in bed with these guys, Maddy. They’re in the big leagues. And they play dirty.”
    “Carlton set up the meeting. I can’t cancel it. And what about the company? You said it yourself. It’s almost impossible to get that kind of start-up money.”
    Henry put his hand in the air, like a stop sign. “Don’t say it,” he said. “Don’t tell me I’m about to lose the best marketing and P.R. person I’ve ever had to Forest Connors. Look, kiddo. I’ll do anything. I’ll pay as much as this shop can afford.”
    “I’m sorry, Henry. But Carlton needs me. And this company is my baby. You always told me if I had the opportunity to go in my own direction, I should take it.”
    Henry sighs, puts his hands to his forehead and rubs his temples. “Well I don’t want to stop you. But beware of the Connors clan. Apples don’t fall far from the tree, my dear.”
    “Oh come on, Henry. It was twenty-five years ago. Don’t you think Forest Connors has changed? I mean, everyone makes mistakes.”
    He gives me a pointed look. “If you think you can teach an old dog new tricks—think again.”
    “Clever,” I say.
    I stand and walk toward his door. Then pivot on my heel. “I guess Polaks aren’t as dumb as they look,” I say.
    Henry pulls a bottle of Jack Daniels from his drawer and pours a small shot into his coffee mug. “How do you sink a Polish navy ship?” he asks, flashing me his trademark smirk.
    “Put it in water,” I reply. Because I’ve heard them all before.

Chapter 17
    Some poisons aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. But cyanide. Cyanide really does the trick.
    You think I would’ve learned my lesson from the brownies. I mean, really. But here I am. On a cyanide research binge. Clicking away at Web page after Web page. Cyanide this, cyanide that. I’m becoming an expert in the stuff. Here are a few fun facts about cyanide: number one, it’s deadly. Like deadlier than arsenic and strychnine and a new song by Britney Spears.
    Number two, it’s been around a long time. The Russians tried to kill Rasputin in 1916 by feeding him cyanide-laced wine. In World War II, Hermann Goering, Heinrich Himmler, and Adolph Hitler were reputed to have used cyanide pills to commit suicide. Even U.S. spies were issued cyanide pills to be ingested if they were captured.
    Number three, you can’t buy the “poison pill” on E-bay. Which is a shame, because I’m sure there are lots of women out there, lots of frustrated wives and girlfriends, who’d put up a highly competitive auction. Let the bidding begin, ladies.
     
    I stand from my desk and shuffle into the kitchen to make a pot of breakfast tea. It’s ten o’clock on Saturday morning and I’m already antsy. How will I fill my day? With cyanide Web pages?
    I know I should feel liberated and free as a bird. But unfortunately, the silence, my dear friends, is deafening. I’m alone. Alone with a capital “A.” Alone in my kitchen. I grab my phone and clutch it against my chest. I swear if I don’t reach out and touch somebody, I’m