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The Art Hotel Copyright Helen Starbuck 2018, all rights reserved
He sat at the open-air bar atop the Art Hotel in downtown Denver fiddling with his drink. He’d walked there from the DA’s office. It wasn’t that far and God knows he needed the walk to clear his head—it’d been one of those weeks and he was glad it was Friday. He’d worked his ass off and there was more to come until this trial took place a week from now. He felt like his brain had died.  It was more than that, he thought, taking a sip of his scotch. He’d spent last night listening to the end of Annie’s latest romantic fiasco and it made him nuts. She had the worst taste in men. She was an intelligent woman but she seemed to hone in on complete assholes. Good looking and charming, but total assholes. She apparently never saw it and then was devastated when they, predictably, acted like assholes and everything blew up in her face.  It was almost more than he could bear. He had walked back to his side of the duplex last night de…

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