by Tim Maleeny
“Are we still talking about the stadium?”
“What else would we be talking about?” asked Cape.
“I’ll be in town for another week,” said Grace.
“Okay,” said Cape cautiously. “But you’re still a client.”
Grace leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“You’re fired.”
She smiled before turning and walking slowly toward the parking lot.
Cape stood and watched her until she drove away, the ocean at his back, the bridge farther away than it looked. He licked his lips and tasted strawberries.
“I’ll have to remember to send her a bill.”
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