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I take the food to my window and look toward Staten Island as I eat. I was brought up on Staten Island. My folks still live there. I haven’t since I went to Columbia, and I definitely don’t go back as often as I should, but it will always be home. It will always be a place to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. I haven’t needed that for a while but sometimes, the city, the law, the constant dogfights, they can grind a man down.
As I’m staring out to the distance, I think about Becky. She just wants a friendly face in the city. I scoff through a bite of my sandwich. She chose the wrong man for that. Yet I still feel bad about the way I dismissed her.
I ball the empty paper bag in my hand and take aim at my waste basket, nailing the shot, as I always do. Then I put my hands in my pockets and, with a sigh, I resolve to at least apologize to her, the prettiest, most annoying damn Brit in New York.
I pass by Sarah’s desk as she’s taking off her headphones to end a call. ‘You win. I’m going to apologize.’
‘While I fully endorse that decision, you might want to hold off.’
‘Why?’
‘That was Archer Williamson’s secretary on the phone. Archer is on his way down here. He wants to explain in person, but the gist is unsavory photographs in the hands of the media. Again.’
Archer Williamson. One of the slimiest, fakest sons of bitches walking the earth. The man’s had more affairs than I’ve had cheeseburgers. And I like cheeseburgers. The greatest irony is that his logistics company is all about ‘going green’ and supporting women’s and kids’ charities. The guy has one of the cleanest public reputations in the world, and he’s a total scumbag. Now he’ll want me to work all night to get him another injunction to stop the press from going public with whatever his latest seedy shit is.
‘That son of a—’
‘Bitch.’ Sarah finishes my sentence.
5
DREW
‘I brought you another coffee,’ Sarah says, setting a mug on my desk. ‘Can I get you anything else? A bite to eat? I can order in for you.’
I glance at the clock on my laptop and drag my hands over my face. ‘No, I’m good. It’s after one in the morning; you should go. You’ve been great tonight, thanks.’
‘Any time, boss man. How’s it going?’
‘I think we’re set. I just got off the phone with the judge. The injunction should be granted. That dirty, lying cheat will be off the hook, again.’
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been with a lot of women. But I would never cheat. I have more respect for myself than that, and I’m certain, if I ever found the right woman, I would have too much respect for her.
This isn’t even my line of work – injunctions against the media – but Archer Williamson is a big client. Morals and the law are an interesting thing. They’re both meant to keep us all on the straight and narrow. The problem is, when one fails, the other tends to follow suit. Still, if Archer’s family is going to be hurt by his actions, he should be the one to break it to them. Airing his filth in public is not what his family needs. That’s the only thing that stops me hating myself for protecting his ass.
‘You did your job, Drew.’ Sarah places a hand on my shoulder, and I cover it with my own. She’s my accomplice in all of this, and I know she’s just as uncomfortable about defending Archer as I am. To the other partners, I might seem impenetrable on all fronts, but Sarah knows some things get to me. Screwing over family and friends is high on that list.
‘You too,’ I tell her. ‘Make sure you get my driver to take you home, all right?’
She nods. ‘You know, I was thinking. If you’re going to be here any longer, you won’t have much time to wait before Becky starts her morning shift. Maybe you could still squeeze in that apology.’
I want to tell her she’s crazy. Becky doesn’t start for hours, and I’m wrecked and ready for sleep. Yet I don’t say that because, more than once tonight, between calls to the judge and waiting for associates to draft court papers, my mind has wandered to Becky. Each time I think about how I treated her, I feel worse about how I handled the situation. I encouraged her to come here, and I charged through her like Babe Ruth would go through a bush league pitcher. She didn’t deserve my anger. I was frustrated with myself and how I behaved in the partners’ meeting, not at her, not really.
‘Sleep tight, Sarah.’
‘’Night, Drew.’
When I finish my coffee, I head down to the kitchen and make myself another.
* * *
I’m standing on the corner of the block with my hands tucked into the pockets of my overcoat. It’s spring, but it’s still cold at this ungodly hour of the morning. I watch Becky climb out of her Uber. She looks up at the restaurant and smiles. It’s a serene smile that makes her button nose crinkle. She’s happy here. She might still be finding her feet in the city, but she looks like she’s sticking around. I don’t even know her and that thought warms my chilled body.
She doesn’t notice me as she walks to the glass door of the restaurant and fumbles with the lock, then the alarm inside. When she’s in and the lights are on, she holds up a hand to the driver and he pulls away.
I move to the door but don’t knock, not yet. I just watch her take off her coat and hang it up. She drags her fingers through her smooth hair and pulls it into a knot on top of her head. I flex my fingers in my pocket, desperate to know exactly how silky those blonde locks feel.
Friends. That’s it. There are bigger things at stake right now. Becoming named partner has been my goal for a long time. My sole goal. And it needs to remain my one and only focus. I’ve worked too hard to mess with my life plan now.
