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“Daniels couldn’t believe it when I told him you’d already brought in a client for the firm,” Freeman says with a chuckle, clapping me on the back. “We’re not used to that kind of hustle around here.”
Obviously not, I think but don’t say. The near-mythical Daniels is apparently still on some never-ending vacation. Then again, there really is an excellent benefits package.
I had a corner office at Myles & Lee, with plate glass windows overlooking the city, and I’ve been reduced to the windowless closet Freeman and I are standing in with my new assistant. It smells of mildew and my disappointed hopes. Michael’s cubicle desk is outside—a dull setup with a potted poinsettia on one side that someone probably bought for Christmas and decided they’d rather not keep alive. The leaves are edged with brown.
Maybe he’ll decide he doesn’t prefer this place to the jewelry store after all. If he likes being surrounded by shiny things, he won’t find much of that here.
I force a smile. “It’s an….interesting case,” I hedge. That much is true. It’ll be easily resolved, at least. All we have to do is create a seed of doubt—and if the plaintiff’s best buddy was interested in his wife before the wife ever met Josie? Well, there’s your seed. Let it sprout.
Freeman gives me an indulgent grin that feels familiar yet not. Heartburn webs through my chest. I’ve felt off all weekend—as if the ground I’m standing on has turned to gelatin, and I’m the only one who’s noticed.
At least Danny and Leonard got a security system installed at Ruthie’s. According to Ruthie, the cameras have picked up nothing other than a couple of amorous squirrels.
That’s been the limit of our interaction over the weekend. I asked about the cameras; she told me about the squirrels.
I wrote out a few other messages and deleted them without sending. I paced my apartment. I cleaned. I worked out. I checked on my mother. Through it all, there was a sense of unease, of something not quite being right. Of something missing.
I told myself it was ludicrous. I’ve gone months without seeing Ruthie. On a couple of occasions, a full year. It never felt like this…like I’d been hollowed out.
Still, we’d agreed to only one night.
So I’ve kept my distance, and she’s kept hers.
Maybe it’s good that we’ve stayed away from each other. I’m not sure I know how to forget the Ruthie from Friday night. The taste of her, the touch of her, the sound of my name when she moaned it—and surely she’d have something to say if I admitted that.
It’s not my pussy you’re hung up on, Shane, it’s the sound of someone orgasming out your name.
She’d be wrong—it’s both.
I get another back pat, then Freeman glances at my hand and beams. “I see you found your ring.”
“Got a new one,” I say, pleased that I don’t have to lie. My mind flashes back to the ruby ring I laid on the pillow next to Ruthie. Awake, she’s always flashing fire and trying to metaphorically—and sometimes literally—knee me in the balls. Asleep, she looked like an angel, her hair splayed out over the pillow.
Clearing my throat, I nod to Michael, whose bemusement doesn’t show in his eyes. “That’s where I found Michael. Best salesman I’d ever had. Turned out he was looking for a job.”
“Oh, you don’t say.” Freeman seems so thrilled, he’d probably float right out of the window if there were one. “You know, I truly believe in fate.”
If you ask me, it’s no attitude for a lawyer to have—we should seek to control fate, not bow to its commands. But I nod as if he’s said something brilliant.
He waves a hand around the depressing space. “Feel free to make it your own. And we encourage everyone to add photos of their loved ones to our family board in the conference room. We’re all excited to see Ruthie on Friday evening,” he adds, his smile indulgent. “Wendy is arranging a special experience for all of us.”
I’ll bet. If that candy bowl on her desk in the lobby is any indication we’ll be sidling up to a buffet somewhere. “Wonderful,” I say. “We can’t wait.”
“Do you have a dog? We have a pet appreciation day once a month. Wendy puts together little treat bundles for them.”
I nearly asphyxiate on my own spit. At Myles & Lee we had a dart board with the DA’s face on it. We took bets on whether the jury would swing someone’s way. And, on one memorable occasion, a couple of the other attorneys and I got drunk at the office late at night and played pin the tail on the ass with a photo of Myles. But we were intelligent enough to destroy the evidence.
This is not Myles & Lee.
It’s like the Disneyland of lawyers’ offices—if Disneyland were beige and the candy handed out looked like it came from the discount bin or your grandmother’s basement.
I clear my throat. “Thank you, sir,” I say, which isn’t an answer to anything. Although I could lay claim to Flower, who would surely enjoy the treats, I won’t put Ruthie’s and Izzy’s photos out for anyone to see. It doesn’t feel safe, which is a stupid thought, because I doubt anyone’s going to take one look at them and turn stalker. Still, there’s no denying the impulse. “Do you have any other cases for me to get started on? I’m a quick study.”
He pats me on the back again. “No, no,” Freeman says, “we believe in giving people time to get settled in. You said your client is coming in this morning?”
I nod, because Josie should be here soon. She called me yesterday to arrange it.
“Work on your new case and getting oriented to the office. More work will come.”
