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Lola’s muscles were too tense to just sit. She was more inclined to get on a treadmill and run until her body ached and her brain came back online. Everything was too disorienting. She needed to move. To leave.
“Okay.” Carmen crossed one leg over the other. A leg Lola had wrapped around her thigh, hip, and a lifetime ago, her neck. “The logical next step is to move for summary judgment before she tries to waste our time and money with discovery.”
“Which means?” Lola blinked, surprised that her useless voice remembered how to work.
Carmen leaned back, too relaxed. Too amused with Lola’s unsteadiness. It was the splash of cold water Lola needed to snap out of her haze. She sat across from her, claiming her space, showing she wasn’t thrown by being alone without the shield of animosity.
“In the simplest terms, we can get the lawsuit thrown out by convincing the judge that we’d win at trial, so there’s no point in having one.” Carmen sipped her water, lips lingering on the edge of the bottle and increasing Lola’s body temp in the suddenly stifling room. “The heart of her case is that when we accused her of being a fraud in front of Bamford that our statements were false. And that as a result of that falsehood, she suffered losses—”
“So we have to prove we were right? Prove that she’s a fraud?” Lola caught up.
Carmen nodded. “We can also argue that it was our opinion, but if we can prove she’s a fraud, that would be seriously game over.”
“And if it doesn’t work?”
“Then we have to go to trial or settle—”
“I’m not giving her a fucking penny—”
“Neither am I,” Carmen said before Lola accessed her anger. “Let’s take one thing at a time.” She was so calm. So steady. “It’s early in the process. We still have countersuits in our back pockets. But I think it’s smart to focus on summary judgment.”
“But how do we prove she’s a fraud?” Lola relaxed a fraction. “I had my blood analyzed. There was nothing in it—”
“Fortune Firestone can’t possibly be her real name—”
“That’s what I said,” Lola agreed reflexively.
“Right? Like if you’re going to make something up, at least try to sound believable.” Carmen smiled. “I think our best bet is finding out who she really it. Maybe she changed her name because she’s swindled other people with her little guru act. If we can figure out who Fortune is—”
“We can prove that she’s selling snake oil.”
Carmen pointed at her. “Exactly. If our accusation of her fraudulent shit is substantiated, it can’t be defamation. Her case is done.”
Lola nodded, relieved at the formation of a concrete plan. “Where do we start?”
“I have a few ideas,” she replied with a grin, holding a secret between her perfect teeth.
Carmen was in the middle of sharing the tactics she’d brainstormed when a loud pop was followed by complete silence. “Shit.”
Lola’s body stiffened. “What?”
“The AC.” Carmen sighed. “I always forget to ask them to leave it on for me.”
“Spend a lot of nights in the office?” Lola meant it as a taunt, but she’d failed to suffocate the curiosity in her tone.
Carmen shrugged. “I usually have more work than hours.”
Lola understood that. Understood the solitude that came with it, too. She wanted to commiserate. To talk about how hard it was to balance work and a social life when they were still establishing their place in the pecking order. Still proving themselves.
“I guess we can talk about this some other time—”
“No,” Lola snapped.
“It’s about to get sweltering in here,” Carmen said while standing.
Too aware of herself but unable to find self-control, Lola made her face as unfriendly as she possibly could. “I’d rather get this over with.” She stood, calling on any emotion other than the one churning in her stomach and tightening her chest. “One of my clients is Chef Leonie—”
“From that rooftop spot in Brickell?” Carmen’s eyes widened, like she was impressed.
