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A young blonde.
“You’ve um…” Her cheeks reddened. “You’ve been…”
“Served!” Someone whispered loudly from around the corner. “Tell him he’s been served…”
“You’re an intern at The New York Times, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes.
She nodded, but then she added. “My boss says you can go f**k yourself, and that even though we’ll never run your picture, we’ll make sure everyone knows that your firm is about to be run into the ground starting tomorrow.” She handed me the copy print for an article in tomorrow’s paper. “He says it’s your turn to feel some karma.”
I slammed the door in her face.
“I think you need to seriously weigh your options before you act out on your emotions.” Ava was right behind me, holding a sleeping Emma.
“Is this a threat?”
“It’s a promise…”
I raised my eyebrow. “And what exactly are the proposed terms?”
“If you help me sort this thing out—if you get the SEC off the firm’s back, both of us can avoid serving any time.”
“I’m not serving any f**king time. I didn’t do anything wrong. And if you think I won’t be the first person in line to help the state put your ass away, you’re sadly f**king mistaken.”
“Awww.” She pouted. “Look at you. Trying to sound all masculine and tough for a change, sounding like the man I wish you could’ve been.”
“Fuck you, Ava.”
“Not a chance.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Let me try phrasing this another way: I know that you’re Mr. Lawyer of the Year and you’d never willingly lie because you have a conscience and all that. But if you don’t help me, or if you refuse to tell investigators that you were partly responsible for what happened—that we all played a small part, I’m filing for sole custody of Emma.”
“File away. No judge in his right mind would give you sole custody.”
She laughed. “This is actually why people f**k to get what they want, honey. It comes in handy for times like this. Besides, you’re not even her real father.” She kissed Emma’s forehead. “Did you overhear that part while you were watching us f**k or were you too busy taking notes?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer.
“Do not f**k with me, Liam.” She hissed. “You have no idea how far I’m willing to go to stay out of prison.”
“Even though you deserve to be there?” I snatched Emma away from her, making her stir. “You sought out clients using my name and you misappropriated the money. For what?”
“Status. Something you’ll never understand.”
“Something you’ll never need.” I countered. “Everyone behind bars shares the same level of popularity.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m going to give you a few days to come to your senses.”
“Or else what?”
“You don’t want to know the answer to that.” She walked out, slamming the door behind her—waking Emma.
She looked at me with her bright blue eyes, smiling. “Can I go play?”
I nodded, unable to even speak. Carrying her to the balcony, I didn’t even bother grabbing an umbrella for myself. I set her down and helped her into a coat, trying not to think about what Ava could possibly have up her sleeve.
Emma tilted her head up to the sky and swallowed raindrops, and then she dashed away from me—running in circles.
A loud thunder roared in the distance, and as if she could tell what I was about to say, she looked at me with a wide grin. “Five more minutes!”
The New York Times didn’t waste any time printing the story. Well, stories.
