Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 by Cayce Poponea Page B

weeks, were temporary reminders, but the mental scars would never go away.
    “It was a last minute decision to walk across campus.” The sounds of her inner battle with herself had started to rise to the surface, a stage in the grieving process she would have to endure. “I’ve been looking for a new apartment and I wanted to check and see if there were any on the next street.”
    I scraped the contents from under her broken and chipped nails. By the style of the clothing she came in wearing and the matching toe and fingernail polish, Lainie was a girl who took care of her appearance.
    “I just moved into a new place myself, not far from here.”
    Under different circumstances, she would have been someone I would have gravitated to, perhaps befriended.
    “I got lucky, meeting the manager when I first moved to Charleston. It’s the first real home I’ve ever had.”
    She pushed her fingertips through her silky blonde strands; her hair nearly reached the middle of her back, falling in natural waves with perfect ends.
    “I know the feeling. My daddy was incarcerated three days after I was born and Momma had a slew of men who wanted to use her and take what little money the State of Kentucky gave her for me.”
    My eyes shot to hers and my gloved hand rested on the center of my chest. Shock and awe consumed my emotions. “What part of Kentucky?” My excited voice joined the change in emotion.
    “Richardson.” Her expression now quizzical, guarded.
    A slow smile framed my face. I knew the town she was from very well. I had passed through it as I traveled to the University I attended.
    “Clarkson,” I admitted with joyous exclamation.
    For the first time since her arrival, and if I was being honest, completely unexpectedly, her face transformed into a smile.
    “So, where is it that you live?”
    “Bentley townhouses, on Battery Street.”
    Her eyes grew big in recognition of the area. Battery Street was one of the more well-known streets in downtown Charleston, acting as one of the arteries of the city. It was loaded with restaurants, shops, and tourist attractions.
    Bentley townhouses were built on the site where, during the civil war, an ammunition depot stood. After the war, the owners built a boarding house and stables. The granddaughter of the original owners tore down the stables and enlarged the home. Although, she never seemed satisfied with the progress, no matter how much she added to the original house. She sold the property a few years prior to her death. Its current owners performed a complete makeover, hiring a designer who specialized in the time period of the house. They added subtle modern touches in the kitchens and baths, yet kept with the charm of the old South. Most of the locals knew of the Bentley property, it being one of the nicer townhouses in the area.
    “Your daddy must really love you for you to live at the Bentley.” She scoffed.
    She wasn’t the first to make this assumption. When I completed my personal information with the human resources, the lady who was helping made a similar comment. “Actually, my daddy, more than likely, was your daddy’s cellmate in prison.” Humor in the situation and in my attitude about his circumstances, were to blame for the smile I wore. “My uncle knew the manager over there. He introduced me before he passed away.”
    Her eyes met the floor, hands returning to the stands of hair flowing down her shoulders. “I’m sorry…”
    “Hey, you have no reason to be sorry. People assume because I live there, I’m sitting on an inheritance or something. It doesn’t bother me.” I shrugged while placing my hand on her arm. “So tell me, where are you staying now?” I dipped my head down to capture her attention.
    “Um, over on Peters Road. My lease expires next week and I haven’t found anything in my price range.” Both hands were in her hair this time, the stress of what happened earlier and of being almost homeless marring her