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“Are you okay? You look a little bit green.” Rebecca peers at me with concern.
I laugh it off and force myself to smile. “I’m fine. First day nerves,” I explain.
“I understand.” She nods knowingly. “Mr. Wilmot is very…” Her voice trails off as she searches for the right word. “…particular,” she finishes. “But it’s worth it. He knows what he’s doing. If you ever have to learn anything from anyone, it might as well be the best. He is certainly that.” She glances around before lowering her voice to a whisper. “The problem with that is, he knows it and he’s not shy about telling everyone.”
I laugh and find myself loosening up. At least I’m not the only one intimidated by him.
After a quick coffee, I go back and wait in his office. The last thing I want is to be told off for not being there when he returns, though I can imagine worse things than being reprimanded by him. I sit at his desk, waiting awkwardly, with still no clear idea of what he’s expecting me to do.
Glancing around the office, I’m intrigued by the lack of personal things. No photos of family, nothing. All I see in every direction is work. He either works way too hard or he’s a very private person. In his field I can understand wanting his privacy, but his office is so cold it’s disconcerting. I pick up another book from his library and flick through it. Like all the others, it’s covered in a layer of dust that suggests it hasn’t been read in a while. I place it back and move along the bookcase. Spying a copy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, I pull it out and open it, amused to see something fiction in his collection. That’s a relief. I was beginning to think his idea of relaxing might be reading the phone book.
Holy shit, it’s signed. Impressed, I run my finger over the soft imprint of the ink. Remember the key to life is living it. This gives me more of a look into his life than anything else in this room. I slide the book back into its place and walk back over to his desk. Sitting down, I run my finger over the wooden top and glance at the three closed drawers.
My hand creeps towards the small metal handle on the top drawer. Not that I expect it to be open. My heart skips a beat when it slides out with ease. I pick up a piece of paper and study it. It’s a child’s drawing. I turn it over and search for a name, but I can’t find one. This is the first thing I’ve seen that makes him feel human.
“Tell him I need it right away.”
I jump, shoving the picture back in its place as I look up, the unexpected interruption scaring the hell out of me. Aaron marches in, oblivious to my presence. I quickly slide the drawer closed and stand up. My legs are like jelly as I swallow, surprised he can’t hear my pounding heart from across the room.
“Sorry, that took much longer than I was expecting,” he announces, glancing at me. “I didn’t intend to be away all day on your first day.”
“It’s fine,” I assure him. My voice croaks out, sounding like I’ve been chain-smoking cigarettes all day. “I spent most of the time reading over your notes anyway.”
“And?” he asks, his attention now on me. He sits down on the chair where I was sitting only moments ago, and nods for me to do the same opposite him. “What do you think?”
“From what I’ve read, I don’t think a jury is going to believe he wasn’t sane at the time of the murder.” I’m both nervous and excited to share my opinion. My earlier reservations over whether I can handle this career have all but gone. “Though he did mention regular use of drugs in the lead-up to the crime. I assume he was tested?”
“Yes.” Aaron nods, a small smile playing on his lips. His dark eyes dance as he watches me, the intensity of his stare making my stomach flip. “What would your next move be?”
“I couldn’t see anything in the notes about a psychiatric assessment. I think that would be my next step. And from there, decide what defence is likely to be more successful in front of a jury.” God, I hope I’m right.
“Very good.” He nods. He sounds impressed, which gives me some confidence. “Would you like to sit in on the psych assessment? Obviously not in the room, but inside the observation room with me?”
“I-I’d love that,” I stammer. He’s just described my dream date.
“Great, then I’ll arrange it,” he replies, winking at me. “I have a feeling you and I are going to get on very well, Lacey. You’re intelligent and you’re willing to learn. They’re two very admirable traits,” he praises me.
I smile, happy that he’s able to see how hard I’ve worked to get the results I have. It’s nice having my achievements acknowledged, especially by someone as successful as he is.
My nerves are beginning to settle, and I’m even able to look at him without breaking out into a sweat, which is a big step forward. He still intimidates the hell out of me, but I force myself to come out of my shell and ask him things.
By the end of the day I’m feeling much more relaxed and my self-belief has sky rocketed. It’s amazing what having someone who believes in you can do for your confidence. He makes me leave just after six, even though I’m not done reading through his file. He makes my day when he tells me to take it home with me. Just like a good book, I know I’ll be up half the night reading it.
I’m exhausted by the time I get home. No sooner do I get through the door than I’m out of my skirt and fetching a pair of sweatpants from the dryer. Pulling them over my thighs, I walk over to the sofa and collapse, wondering if every day is going to be this tiring.
Somewhere between sitting down and watching the news, I fall asleep. When I open my eyes, I’m confused as to where I am. It takes me a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I make out the shape of the TV and the sliding door and realize I’m on the sofa.
Sitting up, I yawn, stretching my arms out behind my head. I fumble on the seat next to me for me phone and check the time. Wow. It’s after three in the morning. I’ve been asleep for hours. My neck aches so I gently rub it, trying to work out the kinks caused by three hours of sleeping crooked. It doesn’t do much, so I give up.
My stomach rumbles. I get up and check the fridge to see what my options are. Apparently not much. I make a face as I toss a half-eaten apple and an out-of-date carton of milk. It’s Ariel’s turn to shop this week, so I leave her a note telling her to get it done tomorrow. My stomach rumbles louder, letting me know it’s not going to give up. I grab my keys and my jacket and march outside, headed towards the gas station a few blocks away. I should’ve woken Ariel and made her go. That would teach her for not shopping. I was forever doing the shopping for her and it was pissing me off.
The supposedly twenty-four-hour gas station is unattended when I get there. I glance at the hastily scrawled note on the window, “be back in twenty minutes,” conveniently located directly below the “We never close!” sign.
Sighing, I head back home. In typical Sydney weather, it’s fucking freezing and way too cold for me to wait it out. Back in the safety of home, I search the kitchen again and find nothing.
I’m defeated. Sitting down, I get my phone and send Lucas a text because he’s the only person I know is probably still awake at this time.
Me: The universe doesn’t want me to eat. Even the Twenty-Four Seven isn’t open.
