Phoebe watched as the minutes ticked by. She twirled her pen around her finger, resting her cheek on her fist as she impatiently waited for the weekend to begin.

It was Friday afternoon, at the office was quiet – quite typical for the end of the week. As a Paralegal for a local solicitor, in a fairly small town, she found that she was not as busy during the days as she had been when she had worked in the same field up North.

Two months ago, Phoebe had moved back to her hometown of Grafton after two years at a Brisbane firm, where she normally didn’t get home until just after seven at night.

Phoebe had loved her job, and was sad to leave – but the place had lost it’s homely feel to it when one of the firm’s rich clients had tried to feel her up. Of course, his business was far to important to their firm, so in order to eliminate any possible threats, the boss had (quite reluctantly) let Phoebe go, after refusing to do anything about it.

Unemployed and virtually broke, Phoebe had come home to live with her mother again. Between her part time job and playing housewife while her mother travelled for business as a make – up consultant, Phoebe found herself utterly exhausted by the end of the week, and always looked forward to going to an empty house on a Friday night, when her mother usually had a date with some guy or another, opting soak in a nice warm bubble bath before curling up for the night with a good Mills & Boon.

When five – thirty finally rolled around, Phoebe shut down her computer, turned off the desk lamp and ducked her head into her boss’s office.

‘C’ya, John. I’m out for the night.’

John looked up, his rectangular glasses tilted on the bridge of his nose, his eyes showing signs that he hadn’t slept in weeks. ‘OK, then. Thanks for your work this week, and I'll see you next week.'

Phoebe smiled at him. 'Thanks,' she made to move out of the doorway, and then pulled back, noticing his shirt. 'John, when was the last time you went home?'

'Mhmm?' John asked, a bit groggily, looking up at her.

'I thought so.' Phoebe assessed, crossing over to his desk. She went over to him and began to give him a massage. 'You can't work yourself out like this,'

John sighed, pulling off his glasses. 'I know. It's just...I'm on a really tight deadline here.'

‘What’s the case? Murder? Terrorist involvement? Conspiracy?’

John laughed at Phoebe’s eagerness. ‘No, nothing exciting like that.’ He sighed, switching the monitor on his computer off. ‘It’s embezzlement.’

‘Civil or Criminal?’ Phoebe went to perch on the edge of his desk.

‘Criminal. This guy ripped off some of the largest companies in the state. Don’t ask me how he did it, but he did. We’re still in the early stages of the investigation.’

‘How much?’ Phoebe asked.

John folded his hands at the back of his head. ‘A quarter of a billion dollars.’

Phoebe let out a low whistle. ‘Think of all the clothes you could buy with that,’

John gave a sly grin. ‘I think he had other ideas.’

‘Yeah,’ Phoebe agreed miserably. ‘What a waste,’

John chuckled and shook his head. ‘Women. I’ll never understand them.’

Phoebe grinned. ‘What can I say? We’re a mysterious lot….just the way you guys like us.’

Unfortunately, Phoebe was forced to watch her plan for a nice, quiet, relaxing evening go up in smoke.

In her mind’s eye, she saw a young boy been slammed against a brick wall, somewhere….it looked like it was somewhere down Willcott Avenue, about three blocks down from where Phoebe herself lived. She watched as the thugs grabbed the plastic bag that the boy carried and began taking things out of it, pegging them at him. When the bag was empty, the thugs threw it to the side and advanced on the little boy. Then they began to bash him, punching him in the stomach, face, then kicking him.

Until the boy stopped moving, and the thugs fled.

‘So much for a romantic night at home,’ Phoebe sighed, and hurried over to her black motorcycle. Swinging a leg over, she tugged at her denim jacket and sat on it.

It was time to show those thugs some discipline.