Cocky Jerk

It was just a typical manic Monday until the blue and red lights flashed behind my Harley. The cop who pulled me over was good-looking, if you’re into clean-cut guys with expressive eyes. He was also cocky and gave me three tickets. One for speeding. Another for blowing a light. And the third for not producing an insurance card. Jerk. When he finally let me go, I realized I was more than an hour late for my first day as an intern for the infamous advice column Ask Ida. So much for trying to be the only one in my family with a legit job. Lucky for me, my new boss, Soraya, didn’t fire me on the spot. But that’s where my luck ran out. A couple of weeks later, in between fetching coffee and finding the missing paperclips, I received a text message from my dad, the president of the Corrupt Hellraisers MC, ordering me to the compound. Yeah, try explaining that to your new boss. Hey, I’ve got to go. Everyone in my family is a criminal, and we’re all on lockdown. You’re fired. Sure enough when