I bit the side of my cheek to keep from laughing. She pointed a finger at me, her face dead serious. “You tell me right now, Julia Campbell, or I will not tell you what part of your outfit looks hideously tacky.”
“What!” I looked down at my...flawless...outfit in shock. She snapped her fingers at me and continued pointing, looking ridiculously somber considering she was wearing hot-pink capris with matching fingernails.
I huffed. “Okay, okay, but only so you stop pointing. Geez!”
“So you admit that you, Julia Campbell, prude of all prudes, had sex—” she whispered the word as though it was revered “—with that man?”
“Yes, I did! And it was wonderful, and hot, and I had another orgasm. Happy?”
She sank to her knees in dramatic fashion. “Ecstatically. Welcome to my world of slutdom. It is an amazing place to be.”
I stepped over her kneeling form and moved to the next rack. “Wait. What—”
“The leopard-print belt,” she muttered, getting to her feet and wiping her pants off. “Who pairs that with cork wedges?”
* * *
Three bags filled with amazing clothes later, we sat at a minuscule table in the food court, devouring a cookie-cake slice and two Cokes. I had splurged on one item—a pair of suede Manolo Blahniks. It was the most I had ever spent on a pair of shoes, but I had wanted to spend part of my Vegas windfall on something exorbitant.
“So, seriously, Jules. Why stay away from each other if you both had fun?”
I toyed with a piece of icing that had broken off the cookie crust. “I don’t know—a few things, really. One is my internship.”
“Attorneys aren’t allowed to date interns,” she said, nodding. “Seems like a logical rule.”
“Right, but it’s a little more complicated than that. Brad isn’t just an attorney—he’s a senior partner. And Broward, my boss, specifically forbade me to even speak to Brad, much less do all of the...other stuff...that we’ve done. So it’s really important that I keep this a secret, which so far I’ve done. If we keep seeing each other, the likelihood of it coming out grows. And the last thing I need blocking my acceptance to law school is a bad rec.”
“Yeah, but you could get around that. My dad could give you a recommendation.”
“That’s beside the point. CDB is one of the top firms in the city. It’s on record that my internship is with them. I don’t want to mar that opportunity.”
“Okay, so that’s one reason. But your internship is over in, what—six weeks?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. So lay low and don’t see each other until then.”
“But what’s the point? Yes, we had fun, but there are plenty of guys out there that I can have fun with. I don’t see why I should waste my time with someone when ‘the one’ could be out there waiting.”
“Oh my God. You and your freaking ‘the one’ theory. Was Dickhead One or Luke ‘the one’?”
“Dickhead One has a name.”
“Are you really defending him? Anyway, moving on, you wasted time with both of them to figure out if they were ‘the one.’ Why not do the same thing with Brad?”
“To start with, they were both interested in dating me. Brad isn’t. I don’t think he does girlfriends, or if he does, they have some type of agreement worked out where they’re okay with him sleeping with other people. I don’t need to tell you that that isn’t something I am interested in.”
“So you would have an issue with him fucking other people?”
My mind alighted on his screw of the stripper, and how surprisingly unjealous I was over that. “If we were dating...yes. Obviously, I would not be okay with him cheating on me.”
“It’s not really cheating if everyone is okay with it happening.”
I blew out a frustrated burst of air. “Then obviously you are the type of woman he’s been dating—women who are okay with him sticking his dick everywhere he wants to. Again, I am not. So no point in discussing that any further.”
“Geez, Jules, you don’t have to get all bitchy on me. I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”
I took a big, bitchy bite out of the cookie and let my emotions simmer. Becca’s big, mascaraed eyes looked away and she scratched her neck.
I glared at her through a mouthful of cookie. “And nothing is wrong with my fucking belt! Leopard and cork go fine together! The straps on these shoes are dark brown!”
She started giggling uncontrollably and clamped a hand over her mouth to try and cover the sound. Coke spurted from her nose and she waved a hand rapidly in front of her, trying to calm her giggles and find a napkin. I handed her one, my face softening. Then I was laughing, too, seeing the Coke dripping down her beautifully made-up, bright red face.
* * *
That night, after the movie and a quick bite at Zaxby’s, I lay in my bed and stared at the ceiling. Through the thin wall I could hear Metallica or Death Grip or some other heavy metal band playing on Zack’s stereo. The room was hot and I flung off my comforter and kicked my legs a bit to free the sheet. I tossed and turned, but couldn’t get to sleep. Finally, I plugged my iPhone into the stereo beside my bed. Turning up the volume just enough to drown out Death Cab, I put it on Katy Perry and set the sleep timer for fifteen minutes. I selected “I Kissed a Girl” and lay back down, staring at the ceiling. As the words floated through the air, I remembered lobster claws, sequined bras, champagne and the flow of desert wind through my hair. Finally, I fell asleep, to the memory of Brad’s eyes, staring down at me, dark, complex voids of mystery.
* * *
The next week and a half flew by. Broward had a business acquisition closing, and preparing for it meant extra-late nights and jam-packed days. The closing finally occurred on Wednesday at 2:00 p.m., and Broward gave our whole wing permission to leave at five. I’d never been so excited about a normal workday in my life. I was merrily stapling briefs together when Todd Appleton stuck his head in the door. “Can I come in?”
Feeling extragenerous, I waved him in with a smile. “Of course, Todd. How’s everything going?”
“Great. Really great. We heard in the East Wing that you guys were getting an early night off. Want to come out with us?”
“Where you guys going?”
“Cantina del Mar. Drinks are half-off till six.”
“Ohhh...tempting.”
He grinned at me. “Hey, don’t act highbrow. You may be putting in the long hours, but you’re getting paid the same as me—nothing.”
“Yeah, don’t I know it.” My desk phone rang, interrupting us. “Julia Campbell,” I answered.
“What are you doing?”
It was Brad. My heart skipped briefly, his deep voice causing a shot of heat through me.
“Just sitting here.” I tried to sound casual, feeling anything but.
“With who?”
I narrowed my eyes, leaning back in my seat and spinning it slightly, gesturing with one finger for Todd to wait. “I assume you know or you wouldn’t be calling.”
“Meaning?”
“I’m talking to Todd,” I said sweetly, through my teeth.
“Let me talk to him.”
“Why?” I didn’t bother to sensor the irritation that seeped into my voice.
“Because I need to, and he left his cell phone here.”
“Just tell me the message, and I’ll pass it on.”
He growled into the phone, the guttural sound taking me back to his hands on my body, the forceful way he gripped my skin. How he fucked like he couldn’t get enough of me. His words came out clipped and measured. “Stop being difficult.”
I tried to breathe normally, tried to stop the flush I felt hitting my cheeks, tried to block the image of him from my mind. My words behaved, coming out stern. “I just feel like we?
??re back in the Bob scenario—the only thing missing is your intimidating self darkening my doorstep.”
“Just tell him to get his ass back here.” He ended the call.
I raised my eyebrows at the phone and hung it up. Todd was trying to look as if he hadn’t been eavesdropping on my half of the conversation. “So...will you come?”
I grinned at him, wishing that his hair was darker, his build was larger and that he oozed sex from every pore. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll see you guys there around five-thirty.”
“Awesome!” He smacked his hand on the desk and stood, bouncing on his toes a bit and looking around, searching for something to say.
I turned back to my briefs, stapling and sorting them, and he took the cue and started to leave. I waited until he had just passed through my door.
“Oh, and Todd?”
“Yeah?” He was back in an instant, standing in my doorway.
“De Luca wants you. Right away.”
* * *
At 5:00 p.m. I swung by the bathroom and used my emergency makeup stash to amp up my look a bit. I had worn a black suit that day with a light blue lace cami underneath, so I removed the jacket and let my hair down. I had a pair of dangly earrings in the car from some event weeks ago, and swapped my pearl studs for them. I looked good—not sexy, but a big step up from the frumpy intern that had strode into work nine hours earlier.
Trying to find a spot to park downtown was typically hell, but at five-thirty a lot of spots had opened up and I was able to snag one just a block and a half away from the restaurant.
I saw Jennifer, Renfield’s intern, parking her Jeep on a side street, and I waved at her and waited. She jogged up, giving me a bright smile and a quick hug. “Girl, haven’t seen you since orientation!” she said. “What do they do—lock you guys up in the West Wing?”
I laughed. “No, just work us to the bone. The Broward rumors are all true. What about at Renfield’s? Is she as big of a bitch as everyone says?”
“Depends on the day. Most days she’s okay—just every once in a while it’s like whoa—watch out!” She held the door open for me and we entered the restaurant. Todd was already there, along with Anton Wu and Trevor. They all had beers, and I ordered a Michelob Ultra from the waitress as soon as she passed.
“We got queso and chips coming,” Trevor said, pulling out stools for both of us.
“Awesome,” I said. Todd seemed to be avoiding my gaze, and I shot him a quizzical look. He gave a quick smile and then started asking Trevor something. I shrugged and turned to Jennifer. “You take the LSATs yet?”
“Once. I did okay, but I’m taking a review course this summer. You?”
“I took one my sophomore year. Did well enough then, but I’m gonna try an online course first, see how that helps me.”
We chatted about menial crap, and kept ordering beers and eating chips. Pretty soon I was well buzzed and needing real food. I flagged down our waitress and ordered a chicken quesadilla, then made my way over to Todd’s side of the table. He gave me a quick smile, then started studying the saltshakers on the table. I moved in front of him, standing where he couldn’t avoid me.
“What’s wrong? Why are you acting so weird?”
“Nothing. I’m not acting weird.”
“Yes, you are. You’re avoiding me like the plague. You invited me here. If you didn’t want me to come, you shouldn’t have asked.”
“I did want you to come. Then... But...”
“But what?”
“De Luca told me to stay away from you.”
I stumbled back, staring at him in surprise. “What?”
He chewed at his bottom lip nervously. “When I got back to the wing today, after talking to you, he called me into his office and told me to stay away from you.”
“Did he say why?”
“He didn’t allow me to ask any questions. Just told me that fraternizing with coworkers was bad news, and he expected more of me. Told me to stay in our wing and stay away from the other interns.”
“What did you say?” I sputtered.
He looked down. “I asked him if I could still hang out with Trevor after work. We’ve been best friends for three years and I told him that. He said Trevor was okay.” He shoved the saltshakers away. “I really have to go. I shouldn’t even be here.” He rose despondently and went over to Trevor, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering something in his ear.
I held up my hand. “Todd.” He didn’t hear me, so I repeated it louder. “Todd!” That got his attention. He looked up at me quickly, a beaten look on his face.
“You stay. I’m leaving.”
“What? No, I’ll just—”
“Stop. It’s done. I’m leaving.” I reached in my purse, rifled through the side pocket until I found forty dollars and laid it on the table. “Give that to the waitress, and you guys can have my damn quesadilla.” I stomped out of the restaurant, leaving them stunned and staring after me.
I stood outside in the warm breeze, seething mad. That prick. I whipped out my phone and tried Olivia, then Becca. No answer from either. Damn. I was too buzzed to drive and didn’t know where I was going. I saw a cab approaching and I waved frantically till it turned on its light and pulled over. I got in the back and slammed the door. “Just head north, please. I’ll give you an address in a minute.”
* * *
I assumed that Brad lived in the north side of town. Mansions and manicured lawns seemed to be his thing. I pulled up WhitePages on my iPhone, but there was no listing for a Brad De Luca. Next I checked the property appraiser’s site. That did it: 1244 Olive Line Trail belonged to Bradley De Luca. So did three or four apartments, but I figured the Olive Line Trail address was his home. According to the tax collector, he’d paid $1.8 million for it three years earlier. The beauty of the internet, a stalker’s fucking dream.
I gave the taxi driver the address and quietly steamed in the backseat. Fucking De Luca. Thinks he can decide who I hang out with? The man who doesn’t want me, but doesn’t want anyone else to have me? Thought he wasn’t the jealous type. I will wring his ridiculously large neck with my own two hands. I ignored my grumbling stomach and flexed my hands in anticipation.
* * *
Olive Line Trail was on the north side of downtown, but just barely. We were there within ten minutes and I paid the cabdriver before thinking. He sped off into the darkness and I stood there on an oak-lined residential street wondering what exactly my plan was. I checked my watch: 7:00 p.m. The man might not even be home, though he definitely wasn’t still at work. I walked up a paved drive and climbed steps to a set of double doors. I started to reach for the doorbell, but decided that dramatic was a better approach so I reached forward and pounded the shit out of the door. No one answered. I pounded again, then turned, looking at the empty street, taxi gone. Shit. I heard something from around the side of the house, so I teetered down the front steps and went around.
In the back of the house was a large pool, hot tub—big surprise—and deep covered porch. Brad was sitting on the back porch in a chair turned to face the house. He had a tennis ball in his hand and was throwing it against the house, letting it bounce back and catching it. A phone to his ear—I could hear him talking. I cleared my throat and stood on the steps behind him, my hands on my hips. He tilted his chair and looked over his shoulder. His eyes hardened, then softened when they saw me. “Rick, I’m gonna have to call you back.” He hung up and stood, turning to face me, wearing a white V-neck T-shirt and workout shorts, tennis shoes on his feet. His neck and back were wet from sweat, and he looked as though he had just gotten back from a run. “What are you doing here?” He sounded irritated.
“What am I doing here? What are you doing!”
“I’m at my house.”
“I’m not talking about here, you idiot! I’
m talking about with Todd—with work—with us!”
“There is no us.” His voice sounded raspy as he said it.
“Exactly! You made it very clear that you didn’t want a relationship. Yet you ran off Bob. You told Todd to stay away from me. You are not my father, you are not my boyfriend, you are not my boss. You don’t have the right to fuck with my life!”
He looked around the empty yard, then stepped forward, into my personal space, his scent invading me, his essence weakening my body. He lowered his voice, his eyes locked on mine, staring into my soul. “Why are you yelling?”
I stepped back, keeping the anger in my voice but lowering the volume to a more reasonable level. “Because nothing seems to be getting through your skull!”
“Do you like Todd this much? Is that what this is about?” His eyes watched me closely, and I suddenly realized he was very interested in the response, a crack showing in his armor, faint vulnerability in his stare.
I hesitated, wanting to hurt him, wanting some reaction other than stoic perfection, but going for honesty instead. “I don’t like Todd at all. That’s not the point. The point is if I did really like Todd, or someone else, I don’t need you walking around telling people they can’t date me. That’s not your place. It’s like you don’t want me, and you don’t want anyone else to have me. That’s bullshit, especially because you’re Mr. Polyamorous!”
“Who says I don’t want you?” He stepped forward again, and I looked away, finding nothing but tan skin, gorgeous features and ripped muscles to look at. His hand found my chin, forcing my face in place, his eyes again arresting mine. There they were, those carnal depths of sin, dark brown pools of irresistible temptation that I had tried to forget.
I rolled my eyes and inserted an extra layer of bitch into my tone, determined to save face in a situation I was destined to lose. “Okay, I misspoke. It’s like you don’t want to date me exclusively. God, I forgot I was talking to an attorney and had to clarify everything.”