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I’d seen it happen in this city too many times before.
First, the top clients who’d sworn to always stay by my side would call and say that they “suddenly” found new representation. Then the employees would file letters of resignation—knowing that having a tainted firm on their resumes would hinder their careers. Next, the investors would call—pretending to sympathize as they publicly denounced me in the media and promptly pulled all funding.
Last, and most unfortunately, I was sure to become another hotshot lawyer who ruined his career before it could even begin.
“How much longer do you think you’ll be able to get away with stalking Emma?” The private investigator I hired stepped beside me.
“She’s my f**king daughter. I’m not stalking her.”
“Five hundred feet.” He lit a cigarette. “That’s how far you’re supposed to be.”
“Are they treating her right during the week?”
He sighed and handed me a stack of photos. “Private preschool, early tap-dance lessons, and weekends at the park as you can clearly see. She’s fine.”
“Does she still cry at night?”
“Sometimes.”
“Does she still beg to see me? Does she—”
I stopped talking once Emma’s blue eyes met mine from the swings. Squealing, she jumped off her seat and ran towards me.
“Daddyyyy! Dadddyyy!” She shouted, but she was picked up before she made it any closer. She was taken away and put inside a car just as she started to cry.
Fuck…
I immediately sat up in bed, realizing that I wasn’t in New York City’s Central Park. I was in Durham, North Carolina, and I was having another nightmare.
Glancing at the clock on my wall, I saw that it was just past one o’clock. The calendar hanging directly above it only confirmed that I’d been living here for far too long.
All the research I’d done six years ago—weighing the pros and cons, checking the records of all the top firms, and scouring the make-up of women on Date-Match, was now seemingly invalid: The condo I purchased was a mere remnant of what had been advertised, there was only one firm worthy of my time, and the pool of f**k-worthy women was dwindling by the day.
Just hours ago, I’d gone on a date with a woman who told me she was a kindergarten teacher with a penchant for the color red and history books. In reality, she was twice my age, color blind, and she just wanted to “remember what some good c**k felt like.”
;Denial (n.):
A statement in the defendant’s answer to a complaint in a lawsuit that an allegation (claim of fact) is not true.
A few days later…
Andrew
I was officially out of my damn mind.
I was in my bathtub, and Aubrey was sitting on top of me—panting as she came down from another orgasm.
She was spending the night at my condo for the third time this week, and it was pointless to even pretend like I minded.
I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but she’d definitely gotten to me. She was infiltrating my every thought, and no matter what I did to try and come back to my senses—to remind myself that this could only be temporary, she slipped deeper into my life.
“Why are you so quiet tonight?” she asked.
“I’m not allowed to think?”
“Not when a naked woman is in your lap.”
“I was giving her a chance to relax.” I slid my hands underneath her thighs. “What unnecessary bullshit do you want to talk about today?”
