i gave my everything
for all the wrong things
--

Devon had apparently beaten you to your thoughts from earlier that day, dragging you out to the 1950's-style burger diner along Pier 39- your usual spot for indulgence and cheat days.
"And I don't even know why he gave me the assignment to interview him. There are definitely other people there who'd probably jump at the chance to do it, but- it's not something I'd do. Not my cup of tea."
You drawled out your distaste for your future interview with Noah Crawford, blowing a small raspberry with your tongue before picking a fry off your plate. "I don't like him," you finally added to your already long tirade.
At that, your best friend chuckled. "Are you going to make any effort to behave yourself tomorrow?" he asked you.
"Nope," you answered, popping the 'p' as you sipped at your milkshake.
Devon's gaze narrowed as he raised his eyebrows at you. "...seriously, [name]?" he droned, sounding more disappointed than surprised.
You shrugged. "I'm not gonna behave, I'm gonna do my job," was your response through a mouthful of burger. "I can't not do my job, Dev. Plus the guy you work for is a straight up pri-"
"I don't work for Crawford, I work for my firm," your companion interrupted you, wiggling a tater tot in your face. "And my firm works for him."
Your eyes drifted to look in another direction for a split second. 'Still kind of the same thing, though?' was what you told yourself.
Devon took a bite of his double cheeseburger and set it down on his plate. "Besides, I'm almost certain you don't want a repeat of what happened back at... you know."
An eyebrow raised on your part. "Know what?"
"That incident with the Daily Globe."
You nearly choked on your shake, trying not to laugh in embarrassment. He had to bring that up, didn't he? "Ow, harsh," you mock-whined to him. "For one, it wasn't an 'incident', and before you go on about, 'oh, you got run out of Boston',"- that sentence was accentuated by slightly flailing hands- "I didn't get run out, I left on my own behalf. Wanted to go to bigger places, better places."
Another couple french fries were shoved into your mouth. "Plus, it was easier since you wanted to move out here too," you continued. "What better than moving somewhere exciting and new with your best friend, huh?"
The male rolled his eyes, but smiled, pulling out the necklace that rested underneath the top of his collared shirt. "No matter where," he spoke.
To which you dangled your matching pendant in between your fingers. "No matter what."
A comfortable silence rested between you both then, picking and chewing at your food while the faint tune of a song by The Cars gave you some background music. Midway into another bite of your burger, you couldn't help but let out a long yawn.
"Tired?" Devon asked, popping a tater tot in his mouth.
You nodded. "Long day," was your short response. With all the editing you had to finish today, not to mention the pressure of interviewing Crawford tomorrow, you just wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep it off.
Your best friend ruffled your [h/c] hair with a smile. "No worries. I'll get the check and we can head out."
Thankfully, the bill wasn't overly expensive, and Devon chose to drive the motorcycle to take you both home. Within seconds of arriving through the door and slouching to your room, you flopped on top of your sheets and were out like a light.

--

Life decided to hate you that night by having you wake up at random at just after three in the morning. When you realized you weren't going to be able to fall back asleep any time soon, you let out a small groan and stumbled out of bed- just then remembering that you hadn't bothered to remove your day clothes before passing out after dinner. Quickly shedding your top and jeans for a baggy t-shirt and cotton shorts, you trudged quietly out to the kitchen so not to wake your sleeping roommate. 
The refrigerator wasn't empty, but it definitely needed a fill-up. You settled for a half-empty container of sliced fruit and a- surprisingly- unopened bottle of tea, sitting down at the small table in the far corner of the room where Devon's laptop sat, the screensaver flashing various pictures of the two of you taken throughout the years. Some were even from your high school days.
Beside you, you heard a soft clicking on the floor and then felt a soft, furry sensation on your leg. 
"Hey Maggie," you smiled, reaching down to gently scratch behind the dog's ears. "What are you doing up, girl?"
The Sheltie only licked at your forearm and sat down on the tile as a response.
You weren't even two bites into your apple when you heard a small 'ping' come from the laptop, seeing an email notification for Devon from one of his higher-ups. Something about... a classified case file?
A glance over each of your shoulders. The coast was clear; you were still the only one awake.
You slipped Maggie the remainder of your apple slice as a form of bribe. "Don't say a word," you murmured to her, even though you knew for fact that the dog couldn't physically speak- though she could still bark, and you didn't want to risk waking your best friend when you were about to do what you were going to do. With that, you ran a finger over the laptop's mousepad, cautiously typed in the password, and you were in. 
You hesitated a moment before moving to click on the email, and it was just what you thought- a file with extremely private information pertaining to the case on the Life Foundation that Devon had told you about yesterday morning. The large, red font of 'CONFIDENTIAL', in all capital letters nonetheless, made it all the more foreboding.
Then you saw it. Three words.
'Wrongful death claim'.
Your eyes widened and you immediately started scrolling down the pages. When you stopped at one, you carefully examined what was on the screen. There was a column that read 'deceased', and three names were listed. 

You downed as much of the tea as you possibly could and scrambled back into bed.
God only hoped you weren't going to regret what you now had planned for tomorrow.