AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh, I intend to fuck it up, but in the best way possible,” he says and then he kisses my blues away.
BIASED
HAYES
“You’re early,” Confidence groans, one eye open, but squinting. Her hair is tousled all over her head and her face is creased with the indentation from her pillow. She looks like every single fantasy I ever had as a boy and everything I thought I’d never have as a man.
I hold up the white wax bag full of pastries and wave them in front of her face.
“Breakfast,” I say and drop a kiss on her warm, sleep plumped lips and step inside of her apartment.
“The place looks like nobody lives here,” I say as I look around at the blandly and sparsely decorated space. “Where did you get this couch?” I ask as I drop onto the gray love seat. Besides the glass coffee table, it’s the only furniture in the entire space.
Well, except her bedroom. Not that she would let me in there. But the door is open, and I can see her sea of white comforters and pillows strewn all over the queen-sized bed in the center of the room.
“Ikea,” she grumbles.
“Sleep well?” I ask and start unpacking the bag.
“Uh, not really,” she says, and with a resigned sigh she sits down next to me. She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them. Her pink tank top pulls tight across her back and I watch her shoulder muscles flex when she rolls her neck as if trying to loosen it up. I slide my fingers under the drape of her hair and caress her nape until I find the knot of tension. I start to rub it and she closes her eyes and moans.
“That feels so good,” she whispers. I don’t respond. I just watch her. The skin under her eyes is dark, little lines bracket her frowning mouth. She looks tired and stressed.
“Why aren’t you sleeping well?” I ask. Her eyes open and she looks at me wearily.
“Because I’m afraid I’ve given my clients bad advice,” she says and then jerks her head to the side. “Ugh, what am I doing?” she says in a harsh whisper to herself. “I can’t be talking to you—of all people—about this.” She sighs. “I’m losing my mind; I’m so tired. And Barry getting fired has turned into a nightmare. Word has gotten around, thanks to Barry spreading it, that I asked Remi to choose between him or me. And that’s earned me a flock of …” She trails off, searching for the right word.
“Enemies?” I offer and press deeper against the muscle in her neck.
She lets her head loll backward, and her hair spills around my hand. It’s warm and soft and my fingers immediately start to close into a fist to capture it. I want to yank her head back and kiss her like I should have when I walked in. But I relax my hand when she closes her eyes and groans.
“Enemies may be a little strong,” she says and then chuckles ruefully. “But only a little.” She shakes her head and sighs. “This is why I hated my last job. No one cares about anything but their careers, their egos, kissing the ass of the person they think can help them. And it’s like everyone here has forgotten why we practice law,” she says, her voice full of frustration.
“You’re being awfully judgmental. They’re practicing law, too. Everyone, even white-collar criminals and profit-driven, billion-dollar companies deserve a fair defense,” I push back.
“I didn’t say they didn’t. Everyone is entitled to whatever protections and remedies the law affords. But working in areas of law where there’s no money to be made is so disheartening,” she says.
“Why? I thought you were doing some good?”
“Well, we would be if law firms like Wilde did it for more than the tax write-off. Our clients are too poor to even keep a roof over their head, much less pay for our very expensive, very well researched advice. But that’s what we promised them. I wouldn’t want them to be worse off than they would have been if we hadn’t brought the suit at all,” she says and worries the inside of her lower lip.
“How’s that possible? They’ve got you,” I say.
“I’m not enough. Wilde is committing minimal resources to their pro bono cases. But this one is different. The implications of its outcomes are huge. Precedent setting potential, and it’s barely staffed. So I’m doing the work of four people because I can’t leave legal research that is going to determine what our brief argues to second year law students. This is too important. And no one else seems to think so,” she snaps bitterly, and I feel the same guilt I felt when she challenged us the day Barry was fired.
It got me thinking about what I came home to do. What I wanted the legacy of my leadership for my family to be. Did I want to reaffirm our roles as society leaders or did I want to do some good for the city that had made us rich? Did I want my name on a stadium? Or did I want to build schools? Affordable, quality housing, fill food deserts with grocery stores?
I’ve decided—and I wanted to show her, instead of tell her—what my plans were.
“What more ideal conditions would exist for it than with Wilde Law? They have deep pockets and nice office space and yeah, it’s a tax write-off, but you didn’t see other firms clamoring to take the case for free in the first place. They do good work. They have some of the world’s best legal talent to choose from,” I say and hand her one of the kolaches from Sweet and Lo’s.
“Yeah, but they don’t dedicate those resources, people, or money that the case deserves because they think their clients should just shut up and be grateful,” she says resentfully.
“You’ve got a chip on your shoulder about this,” I say and she nudges me with that shoulder.
“Hey, watch out—that thing is heavy,” I tease her. That earns me a fierce little scowl.
“I do not.”
