14
“Remind me why we’re meeting at your apartment instead of my office,” Sage grumbled, shuffling the papers in a legal file on the desk in her office.
An impatient sigh came through her cellphone followed by a gravelly voice. “You aren’t going to Tank’ s place. It’s a shithole, and the asshole’s too lazy to go to your office. Only option left is my apartment.”
“Which segues into my next question. Why are you the intermediary between my client and myself? I swear it’s worse than going through security at a federal penitentiary.”
Sage had dealt with her clients’ overprotective parents and frantic spouses, but this level of handholding for a grown man was new to her.
A sharp voice echoed through the phone, “You go to jail?”
“County and federal. I mean, Shawangunk is only a thirty-minut
