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“Weather? Ah, fuck.” For some reason, my part of the brief is ten times more intrusive than Rex’s.
“I told you I’d help,” Rex offers, stepping back into my office, and like the stubborn SOB I’m known to be, I place my hand up to stop him.
“Nah, I’m fine, really.”
He searches my desk, papers everywhere when my desk is typically methodical and ordered.
“Okay, if you insist. I’ll see you up there tomorrow night. Drive carefully, and try not to kill Mr. Money Bags.”
I give him a curt nod and bid him farewell, as we both wish each other luck with our difficult partners. I won’t let the fact that Xander Lynol is my assigned partner for the next four days derail my plan. No, I have too much work to sift through before I can leave tomorrow anyway. But fuck, out of anyone in the firm, it just had to be that fucker.
* * *
My eyes are gluedto the last brief given to us by one of the senior lawyers. In this case, a man unlawfully entered a house at gunpoint and tied the homeowners up. He had three gold necklaces in his hands when he slipped down the steps because of rotted stairs. The robber is suing our prestigious client because he fell and broke his neck. I call it poetic justice, but apparently, the asshole has a case. This has been a challenging lawsuit, and the whole office has bets if Rex and I will win it. If I nail it, it will go a long way to helping me toward the two coveted seats nearly every junior staffer is vying for. I seldom handle lawsuits in this manner. My expertise is in corporate litigation, but one of the partners wanted to give us some experience in civil lawsuits. Plus, our client loves the work Rex and I have provided.
I don’t hear the knock on the door when a voice pierces through my focus. “Farmer, you hear me? I’ve been knocking for over a minute.”
I keep my attention on one of the many law books I have placed around my workspace.
“And do you not check your email? I’ve sent a few today to work out this colossal fuck-up we’ve found ourselves in.” His drones continue, but I realize I can’t ignore him, not when he’s in front of me. I’ve not acknowledged him, and with his low and guttural exhale of air, I can imagine I’m pissing him off.
“Fuck, this is hard enough. Could you please stop what you’re doing for thirty fucking seconds and answer me? Do you hear me, Farmer?”
I tip my head to his line of sight. “Typically, when someone enters another person’s office, they say hello, and wait for an invitation, but since you’ve never shown an ounce of respect when it comes to me, what would you like to know, Lynol?”
I pull my hair back out of my face, grabbing a hair tie from my desk.
“I have no idea what the hell they see in you. You don’t have the decency to cut your hair and look like a respectable lawyer.”
Xander has never let his opinions of me slide. Every chance he gets, he tells me exactly what he thinks of every part of my appearance, down to the vehicle I drive.
“Having long hair doesn’t affect my ability to outperform you in all aspects. So, before our normal pissing contest begins, would you like to tell me what you want, Lynol?”
“You and I have to drive up to the lodge outside Tofte. I have a cabin in the mountain range. We have to maneuver the Sawtooth Mountains. The roads are no joke, so I’d like to leave at eight a.m. I’ll meet you here, and because I’m familiar with the roads, I’ll drive.”
I toss my pen down, and like I let him know in the third grade, he doesn’t dictate my life or decisions.
“No can do, Mr. Money Bags. I have a few more things to wrap up here before heading out. We don’t have to be there before six p.m. anyway, so pick me up at one, and I’ll be ready.” I won’t argue, he’s right about one thing. I’ve never been through the Sawtooth Mountain Range.He should drive.
“Hey, asshole.” He pauses, and I don’t react. It’s best not to respond to his temper tantrums. “Have you seen the weather? We’re leaving at eight, no ifs, ands, or buts.”
He turns to leave, but I’ll have the final word. “Good luck with that. I can’t leave that early. And as you know, we have to ride together.”
“Eleven, asshole, and not a minute later,” he counters.
“Noon, and I’ll do you one better, I’ll meet you in the garage. It’s my final offer. You can shut the door behind you.”
I’m not an asshole by nature, but you put Xander Lynol in front of me, and it comes out so naturally.
Xander leaves without another word, and somehow, I take today as a win against the kid who has made my life a living hell for the past twenty years.
* * *
The lights areon as I open the door to my one-bedroom apartment, all I can afford given the student loans I’ll be paying off for thirty years, especially now that I’m paying the entire rent after Jen moved out.
“Did you get my text?” The familiar voice calls out from the bathroom, and I haven’t, although I’ve barely looked at my phone since this morning. Now it’s past eleven p.m., and I’m tired. And fucking angry. I was looking forward to our retreat this morning. Still, by the time I had words with Xander, I was wondering if I could call an old friend from college who is now a doctor just to ask for a medical excuse as to why I’m unable to attend this weekend.
“Sorry, Jen. I’ve had a day.”
