Each of us had a mandatory meeting with the new boss. And I felt like the universe had literally kicked me in the face. “What the hell happened to you?” asked Markos, cantering past with a cup of coffee in each hand. “Lost a fight with a door,” I said absently, then cursed myself for the stupid lie. “Looks like it kicked you,” Markos commented. Crap. Was it really that obvious? On the drive back from Central, the blood on my face had freaked out a few people, who’d probably assumed I was a murderer coming back from burying his latest victims. But I’d been too out of it last night to look at the damage. Not like it was the first time I’d been in a fight. Now, I glanced at my reflection in the window. Dark circles under my eyes—nothing new there—and the unmistakable, bruise-coloured imprint of a boot across the bridge of my nose. Damn. No getting around this one. “By the way, you’re up next. Good luck.” Okay. Time to face the new boss. Hope this one lasts longer than a day, I couldn’t help thinking morbidly, as I headed to her office.
