Free This Case Is Gonna Kill Me by Phillipa Bornikova

across my tongue, and the alcohol and mint wrapped themselves around my taste buds. It was incredibly refreshing, and it tasted wonderful. The rest of the city might be baking, but here near the water swirling winds set the candle flames dancing, and I had even donned one of Ray’s shirts over my halter top.
    Ray stared at me with the air of a whippet hoping for a walk. “Well, what do you think?” he asked.
    “Delicious,” I said.
    “But you’re still not smiling.”
    “I’m not drunk enough to forget,” I replied.
    “Dinner,” Gregory called.
    Ray offered his hand and pulled me out of the lounge. As we all settled around the table, I said, “I feel like I’m a horrible person.”
    “You’re not—” Ray began, but Gregory glared at him.
    “Don’t. You always do that. You always shut off a person when they’re working through something important. You do it because you can’t stand raw emotion and emotional pain.”
    Ray bristled. “I do it because I don’t like to see my friends hurting, and I can’t treat people like a lab specimen the way you do.”
    “Excuse me.” I held up my hand. “I’m the one who’s just endured the trauma. You guys can work out your personal glitches on your own time, and not when I need to be the center of attention.”
    Everyone laughed, including me, but the effort of being glib and cheerful seemed to have sucked all the strength out of me. It was exhausting to lift a forkful of food to my mouth.
    “How are things at the firm?” Gregory asked. “Are they giving you time off?” I shook my head. “Bastards.”
    “No, I don’t want to take any time off because I’m afraid they wouldn’t let me come back. I’m in big trouble because I talked about a case to the police. One of the big bosses wants me fired. And that’s why I feel like an awful person—because I’ve been thinking more about keeping my job then I have about poor Chip. I feel like a bug on a pin. I want to help the police, but I have obligations as a lawyer, and if I get fired after only two weeks…” Tears burned my eyes. “God, how can I face everybody? Especially my dad. I mean my human dad. It meant so much to him that I become a lawyer, and work for a big firm.”
    Ray and Gregory got out of their chairs, made a manwich, and gave me a hug. For a few moments I let them, then I straightened and pushed them away. “Your dinners are getting cold.”
    For a few minutes we all ate in silence. I was reaching for the salt when Gregory said, “Try squeezing lemon juice on the corn. It’s orgasmically good.” He was right, and I savored the explosion of sweet, yeasty flavor as the kernels crunched between my teeth.
    “I feel like Nero Wolfe,” I said. “Well not in size,” I hastened to add at Gregory’s look of horror.
    “Who’s Nero Wolfe?” Ray asked.
    “The enormously fat hero in a series of detective novels,” Gregory said. “He grew orchids and was a notable gourmand.”
    “He liked fresh corn on the cob,” I added. “That’s what made me think of him.…”
    “What?” Ray asked as my voice trailed away.
    “We have a detective at the firm.”
    “Okay,” Gregory drawled. “And this is relevant how?”
    I stood up and paced. “He works for the firm. I can give him information about Chip’s cases, and I won’t be violating confidentiality. He can follow up on any leads. That way I’ll be helping Chip, and I won’t feel like such a shit.”
    “And protecting your job. Wins all around,” Ray said.
    I suddenly felt better and hungry. I returned to my chair and started to eat—and dropped my fork when a loud BOOM echoed across the water. The night sky flared red, then blue, then white.
    “The fireworks are starting,” Ray cried with the joy of an eight-year-old.
    Gregory shook his head at this statement of the obvious, but he smiled as he watched Ray rush over to the side of the building facing New York Harbor. Gregory stood and offered me his arm. “Shall we join