Hard Beat

“Let’s add it all up, because one and one sure as fuck isn’t equaling two here.” I need to pace, work through the anger eating me from the inside out. The space in my room is small, but I manage to find a path. “You hit on me in the bar, we sleep together, but the next morning you swear that you didn’t know you were going to be assigned to me. Bullshit!” I cough the word out and hold up my hand to cut her off when she tries to argue. “You were freelance for how long before within the blink of an eye, my partner? Let me ask you… As a freelancer, were you a reporter, a photographer, or were you both? Why be just one when you can have it all, right?”