Authors: Emma Heatherington
Tags: #Contemporary Fiction, #Humor, #Contemporary Women, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary, #Romance, #Sagas, #New Adult & College, #Inspirational, #Women's Fiction, #Literature & Fiction
“
A
priz
e
asshole?
”
“
Y
es
.
That
’
s
it
.
He
’
s
a
priz
e
asshole.
”
“No
w
,
young
lad
y
.
Here
you
go,”
said
Sergeant
McCloske
y
,
enterin
g
th
e
intervie
w
room
.
H
e
wa
s
carrying
a
dee
p
plasti
c
tra
y
,
th
e
kin
d
yo
u
woul
d
se
e
i
n
a
n
airport
securit
y
check
,
whic
h
containe
d
al
l
he
r
belongings
.
“Than
k
you,
”
sai
d
T
ess
,
stil
l
digestin
g
Copalicious
’
s
opennes
s
wit
h
he
r
i
n
suc
h
forma
l
surroundings
.
Mayb
e
he
didn
’
t
kno
w
.
.
.
“
I
hav
e
lot
s
t
o
catc
h
u
p
on,
”
Copaliciou
s
said
,
standing
u
p
an
d
gatherin
g
u
p
hi
s
paperwork
.
“Goo
d
luck
,
Miss.
Kee
p
u
p
th
e
goo
d
wor
k
a
t
schoo
l
an
d
remembe
r
to practis
e
you
r
aim
.
A
u
revoir
.
”
“
I
will
,
Garda,
”
sai
d
T
ess
,
totall
y
bewildered
.
“
Au
revoir
.
”
Whe
n
h
e
lef
t
th
e
room
,
sh
e
pu
t
o
n
he
r
necklac
e
again
a
s
Ol
d
Bil
l
shuffle
d
about
,
makin
g
himsel
f
see
m
bus
y
and constantl
y
lookin
g
a
t
hi
s
watch
.
“Oh
,
th
e
tape,
”
h
e
said
.
“I
s
tha
t
stil
l
running?
”
He
muttered
to
himself,
something
about
Simple
Simon
,
an
d
h
e
switche
d
i
t
off
,
rewoun
d
i
t
an
d
pu
t
i
t
i
n
his
breas
t
pocket
.
“Everythin
g
oka
y
,
Miss?
”
h
e
aske
d
he
r
.
“
Y
o
u
can mak
e
tha
t
phon
e
cal
l
no
w
.
Ge
t
yoursel
f
ou
t
o
f
her
e
a
t
last. N
o
plac
e
fo
r
a
lad
y
i
n
here.
”
T
es
s
smile
d
t
o
hersel
f
an
d
picke
d
u
p
he
r
phon
e
t
o
call
Poll
y
.
Simpl
e
Simo
n
wa
s
a
goo
d
nam
e
fo
r
Garda
M
c
Gu
i
nn
ess
.
W
a
y
bette
r
tha
n
Copalicious
.
Mayb
e
h
e
wa
s
a
bi
t
slo
w
of
f
th
e
mar
k
eve
n
thoug
h
h
e
trie
d
t
o
ac
t
th
e
tough
gu
y
.
Whateve
r
h
e
was
,
sh
e
didn
’
t
reall
y
care
.
Because
,
by
recordin
g
hi
s
opinio
n
o
n
Jo
e
McAlee
r
,
Copaliciou
s
might
hav
e
jus
t
save
d
he
r
bacon
.
“Bles
s
me
,
Fathe
r
,
fo
r
I
hav
e
sinned!
”
T
es
s
stoo
d
a
t
the
polic
e
statio
n
doo
r
wit
h
ope
n
arm
s
a
s
th
e
girl
s
ra
n
towards
he
r
fro
m
thei
r
taxi
.
I
t
wa
s
pas
t
4
a.m
.
an
d
Rut
h
wa
s
stil
l
i
n
he
r
blac
k
pyjamas.
Poll
y
an
d
Gin
a
ha
d
showere
d
an
d
change
d
int
o
da
y
wear bu
t
Ruth
,
despit
e
he
r
sleep
,
stil
l
didn
’
t
hav
e
th
e
energ
y
.
“M
y
God
,
T
ess
,
ge
t
int
o
th
e
ca
r
quick
.
Her
e
ar
e
some
slippers
.
I
hop
e
n
o
on
e
see
s
us!
”
sai
d
Poll
y
,
leanin
g
down t
o
hel
p
pu
t
th
e
slipper
s
on
.
On
e
wouldn
’
t
fi
t
he
r
thank
s
to he
r
broke
n
toe
,
s
o
sh
e
ha
d
t
o
mak
e
d
o
wit
h
jus
t
th
e
other whic
h
mad
e
he
r
hobblin
g
ver
y
difficul
t
indeed
.
“
I
thin
k
I’
m
startin
g
t
o
fee
l
hung-ove
r
,
”
sai
d
Gina
.
“I mus
t
b
e
on
e
o
f
th
e
ver
y
fe
w
wh
o
hasn
’
t
puke
d
yet.
”