At 8:00 p.m., I heard the elevator ding and walked out to the lobby to meet Jerome. From behind the East Wing doors, I could hear voices and see lights. My brow furrowed. It was odd for anyone on their staff to work past six or six-thirty. I helped Jerome by grabbing one of the bags, and he followed me to the conference room, where I had cleared off a section of the table. “Want to eat here with us?” I asked.
“No, I appreciate the offer, but I need to be back at my post.” Jerome gave me a quick smile and held up one of the bags. “Thanks for the sandwich.”
“Sure. Thanks for picking it up.” I hesitated, wanting to ask what was going on in the East Wing, and who was still there. I refrained, and just sat down instead. I laid out the sandwiches and went to the kitchen to get drinks. “Food’s here!” I called out to Broward, who nodded and held up a finger.
I sat down in the conference room and unrolled my Philly cheesesteak. Cracking open a Dr Pepper, I ate, enjoying the chance to relax. My neck was killing me, and I rolled it a few times, trying to get the kinks out. I heard Broward come in behind me, and I lifted my chin in greeting and pointed to his sub, which I had laid out on a plate with a napkin.
“Thanks, Julia,” he said, settling down and unwrapping the sub. I slid a Coke down the table to him.
“What do you normally do for dinner?” The words popped out before I thought them through. He looked up at me quizzically, sub in his mouth. “I mean, you always work so late—till at least eight, and it doesn’t seem like you pack a dinner....”
He shrugged and wiped his mouth. “Claire, my wife, she makes a plate for me—keeps it in the fridge. I eat it when I get home. We’ve been married twelve years. She’s used to my schedule.”
“Do you always plan on working such long hours?”
He stared at me for a moment. I’m not sure if he was thinking or just staring, but finally he responded. “At the moment, I work to live. We are very cautious with our spending, and set aside ample amounts for retirement. In nine or ten years I plan on retiring, to either North Maine or the outskirts of Chicago.”
I nodded, trying to think of something to say other than Boring. “Sounds nice.”
“We’re excited about it. Claire is a stay-at-home mom, and when the kids graduate we’re really looking forward to some one-on-one time, a chance to get to know each other more.” Something I would think you would have done during the first twelve years of your marriage, but I’m not really the person who should be giving relationship advice.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Let’s see, now...eleven years...been a partner for nine. I worked at another firm, Daly and Fountain, before here. Perhaps you’ve heard of them?”
I nodded, even though their name drew a blank in my mind.
“I thought so. They’re a big firm, though not as big as us.”
“Why did you choose to come here?”
“Well, at the time it was just Clarke Law Firm, and I knew that a partnership opportunity was in the cards.” I ate my sub quietly. The absolute last thing I wanted to do was have the conversation turn to Brad. Which, of course, it did next.
“I became partner after two years and considerable effort. Back then, it took more than large billings to gain partner status.” His contemptuous tone just asked for a response, but I stayed far away from the low-hanging fruit and took another bite of cheesesteak.
The silence grew, and he finally continued unaided. “I mean, when Brad came on, for example, he was with us for only six months before Clarke approached him about partner status. I was vehemently against the idea, but Clarke’s shares overrode my opinion. Brad is just cut from a different cloth than us. He doesn’t understand the hard work behind law.” Bitterness laced his voice and my rebellious side spoke up before I had a chance to rein it in.
“Is that why you told me to stay away?”
“What?”
“You’ve told me a few times now to stay away from the East Wing, and from De Luca specifically. Why?” He shot me a perturbed look, as if irritated that I would question his authority. I held my gaze steady, despite the battle that raged inside me.
He avoided my gaze, and suddenly seemed very interested in the remaining piece of his meatball sub. Finally, he set it down and looked at me. “I don’t like De Luca, Julia. Some in this office would say I hate him, but that isn’t the case. I dislike Brad for two reasons. First, I don’t think he displays the work ethic or ethical standards that I would like upheld by our office. But second, six years ago—and I apologize for the language—Brad fucked my wife.”
I gasped and stared at him, my half-eaten piece of sandwich hanging limply in my mouth. Somehow, ridiculously, I felt tears welling up somewhere behind my corneas, and I blinked them off. I didn’t know what to say and I stumbled over the next sentence.
“I’m so sorry.”
He stared off in the distance, pursed his lips, then shook his head. “I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m sorry. It’s too personal. I just wanted to give you an honest reason. You are a beautiful, innocent young woman, and it was very inappropriate for me to assume anything, but I didn’t want you to fall into his trap like other interns have. You seem too intelligent for that, but I wanted to give you a warning anyway.”
I blinked at him, not really knowing what to say. Then I nodded, my eyes grim. “Trust me, that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about.”
We ate the rest of our meal in silence, with me having so many questions that were way too personal to ask, and he seeming to prefer brooding over chatter. Once we finished, I cleared our plates and we continued working, the bustle of papers shuffling and keys clicking the only sounds in our deserted wing.
* * *
I drove home with the radio off and the windows down, trying to think. I don’t know what I even had to think about. Any confusion I’d had about Brad should have been answered by this new information. Brad had slept with his business partner’s wife. Enough said. So what did I have to think about? Nothing. I rolled up my windows and tried to think about anything other than De Luca.
Twenty-Eight
Tuesday at 1:00 p.m., my office line finally rang with De Luca’s extension showing. I ignored it, letting voice mail pick up. He didn’t leave a message. He called again at 3:00 p.m. Again, I ignored the phone. With Broward in Dallas the workday was light, and at 4:45 p.m. I started packing up, preparing to leave. I wandered by Sheila’s desk and spent the last fifteen minutes of the day chatting up the older woman. She had warmed to me considerably over the past few weeks, and now bordered on almost friendly. I was intent on cracking her shell before my internship ended.
I pressed the down button on the elevator and waited in the lobby for it to arrive. Todd came through the East Wing doors and gave me a big smile. We waited, the doors opened and we got on together. When the doors shut, we both started talking at once. I stopped, and Todd hesitated.
“Go ahead,” I said with a laugh.
“I was just going to ask if you were free tomorrow to, ah, hang out.”
“Sure. Do you have my number?”
“Yeah. It’s on the intern roster Dr. Ennis distributed the first day.”
“Great.” I looked at my feet as the elevator doors opened to the parking garage. He stepped out and we kind of shuffled around.
“So, tomorrow night?” he asked.
“Yeah, tomorrow night. See you then.”
“I’ll call you. Maybe around eight?”
“Sounds good, Todd. Night.”
He gave a quick wave and spun on his heel, sauntering to his truck, a late-model Ford F-150. I headed to my car and stopped short. There was a note tucked into the window. I opened it cautiously. It was a hand-scribbled note on thick, embossed paper. It had only one word, and initials scribbled underneath.
Dinner?
/> BDL
I crumpled the note as tight as possible, then I had an idea. I uncrumpled the paper, ripped it in half and then recrumpled the two pieces. I looked around for the car I had passed in Brad’s driveway. I saw it parked by the elevators in one of the three reserved spots, a new BMW 750Li, white, with a personalized tag: B D BEST. Nauseating. I strode over and dropped the crumpled pieces in Brad’s open sunroof, and they fell onto the driver’s seat. What was really shocking was that the man was still at work at 5:15 p.m.
I felt that I had accomplished something by the time I got into my car. I cranked up the radio, backed up and pulled out of the garage. I had plenty to smile about. I was currently flush with cash, had made a decision on the Brad debacle and had a date the next night with a smoking-hot guy.
* * *
Todd and I decided to stay in and watch a movie at his place. He let me pick, so I tried to pick something guy-friendly and went with Old School. It was a typical college date, a barely disguised excuse to hook up, minimal expense and effort required from the guy. But I didn’t really care. I was pissed at the Brad situation and wanted a rebound. Todd was available and hot. I didn’t need much more than that right then.
After another day passed with zero contact from Brad, I’d gotten home from work around 5:45 p.m., showered, shaved and dressed in tight jeans and a spaghetti-strap tank that showed a little of my stomach. I wore sexy panties and a shelf bra in case the evening led to anything other than kissing. Old Julia would never have considered anything more than kissing on a first date, but I seemed to be throwing caution to the wind these days. Brad had been a little too persuasive regarding casual sex, and I figured if I took his teachings outside our nonexistent relationship, tough shit.
Todd had offered to pick me up, but I wanted to have control over when I left, so I told him I’d meet him at his house.
He lived in a townhome complex, located in an area at least two steps up in price from mine. Todd yanked open the door with a huge smile and a giant Great Dane. The dog launched himself at me and I found myself in a sort of dance with the pooch, holding both his front paws and trying to dodge his huge tongue.
“Walker!” Todd yelled, grabbing his collar and pulling him off me. He herded the large dog down a side hall and through a doorway, shutting it firmly behind the dog. There was some whining and scratching, and Todd shot me an apologetic smile. “We have about five minutes till he goes bat crazy, so I’ll give you a quick tour before we let him out.”
“Sounds good.” I set my purse on the counter and looked around. The living room was small, but with nice furniture—a leather couch and granite coffee table. Todd must have rich parents. A large Godfather movie poster hung over the couch, and the small room was dominated by a big plasma TV. The smell of Febreze hung suspiciously in the air and a candle was lit on the kitchen counter. The house looked tidy, but not necessarily clean, as though everything had been picked up or hidden just moments before, and nothing had been wiped down or vacuumed. I looked at Todd. He appeared to be clean. Really clean. He had on soft sweatpants and a short-sleeved Under Armour shirt. His hair was wet from a recent shower, and I could smell the soap he had used, some type of “ocean breeze” scent. He didn’t have the manly, developed body of Brad, but his thin frame was what I was used to, and his Abercrombie looks were what I had spent the past ten years of my life pining after.
“So, the kitchen and the living room. Very impressive,” I drawled, leaning back against the counter and letting the action slide my tank slightly up, exposing my stomach. Todd’s eyes instantly focused there. “Anything else to show me?”
“Um...yeah,” he stammered. “My bedroom is back here.” He went down the hall and opened a well-stickered door, revealing a king bed and white dresser set. He got points for no dirty clothes, at least none in sight. I grabbed him and threw him on the bed. His eyes widened and he scooted back, but I pressed him down with my hand and straddled his hips, grinning down at him. “Oh my God, this is so hot,” he whispered.
I was back in my element. Not like being with Brad when I’d felt like a bumbling, inexperienced geek.
I pulled my tank off, revealing my lace bra and tanned stomach. I leaned forward, brushing my breasts against him, kissing him, starting at his neck and moving up to his ear. He squirmed beneath me, his hands grabbing my waist and my back. Our lips met, a battle of tongues. He was a hard, forceful kisser, and I tried to match the tongue thrusts and soften his firm play, but it didn’t quite work. I finally pulled my mouth off his, moving forward until my breasts fell in his face and he gobbled at them, using his hands to free my nipples; his rough mouth found them and sucked.
It was hard, a little too aggressive, his tongue jerking over my skin, teeth scraping. I winced and pulled my tender nipples away, putting his mouth at my neck instead. My hands grabbed and teased his hair, and I traveled back down his body until our faces were together again. I reached down and slid my hand over the ripped abs of his stomach, under the waist of his pants and met boxers. Who still wears boxers? I fought with his hands as they reached for the zipper of my jeans, forceful and rushed. This is so not what I expected.
A series of loud barks and bangs erupted from the hall, and I figured that Walker’s five minutes of patience had been reached. I climbed off Todd and rolled over, lying flat on my back. Todd rose on an elbow and looked at me yearningly—a look I used to get off on. The barking increased, punctuated by howling every four or five barks. I sat up, grabbing my top. “Maybe you should get him before he breaks something.”
Todd groaned and sat up, hopping off the bed and walking out. I heard a door open and him scolding Walker, apparently ineffectively, because the dog came bounding into the bedroom ten seconds later. I had my shirt on by then and was planning my exit strategy. I was feeling zero spark and starting to fantasize about my warm bed and a good book.
Todd chased Walker into the room and grabbed his collar, pulling him off the bed. “Maybe we should move to the living room,” I suggested.
His face fell, but he shrugged it off. “Sure. Walker will leave us alone in there.”
I walked back to the living room, snagging my purse on the way. “Hey, is there a bathroom I could use?”
“Sure. It’s back in my bedroom, the door by the closet.”
I walked to the bathroom, locked the door and leaned against the sink. Pulling out my phone, I searched through my apps. Some computer nerd, circa 2010, had invented an ingenious app called Fake-A-Call. I opened the app and scheduled it to send a fake call to my phone in five minutes, from Broward. I set a second call in six minutes, also from Broward. I then set my ringer to extraloud and put it back in my purse. I flushed the toilet, washed my hands and primped for a minute. No point in looking bad on my way out.
I exited the bathroom and wandered back to the living room, where Todd was standing awkwardly with a Coke and a bottled water. “I thought you might be thirsty,” he said, thrusting both out to me.
I set my purse down on the coffee table, grabbed the water and grinned at him. “Thanks. You want me to put in the movie? We can watch it out here on the couch.”
“Uh...yeah. Sure.”
“You got any popcorn?”
“Naw. I got beef jerky. Want some of that?”
“Umm, maybe in a little bit.” Like, never. “You sit. I’ll put the movie in.” I fumbled around with the DVD case and his TV, changing the channels and inputs until the correct screen popped up. Right about then, like clockwork, my phone rang. “Todd?” I asked, facing the TV on my knees. “Will you look in my purse and see who that is?”
He instantly obliged, unzipping my purse and digging around as if he was looking for gold. He pulled out my phone and looked up at me quickly.
“It’s Broward.”
“Broward?” I frowned, making a show of looking at my watch. “That’s weird. Don’t answer?
??let’s see if he leaves a message.”
“He’s in Dallas, right?”
“Yeah. Maybe it’s a pocket call.” I shrugged nonchalantly, turned back to the TV, grabbed the DVD remote and hit Play. I shoved to my feet and sat on the couch next to Todd, snuggling close to him. My phone rang again and we both looked at it lying upright on the table. “Broward” was clearly displayed. I moved uneasily. “Todd, I’d better answer.”
He nodded quickly. “Yeah, get it.”
I answered, and spoke to the inert phone. “Hello?” I paused for a beat. “No, I’ve already left....
“Which statute...?
“On your... Wait, let me get a pen.”
I turned to Todd and covered the phone. “Do you have a pen?” He hopped off the couch and ran to the kitchen, opening and closing drawers until he came back with a pen and paper. I held the phone close to my ear and scribbled some crap down on the pad. “Okay, fourth file cabinet to the left, Henderson file... And you have to have this tonight...?
“No, I don’t mind....
“Yes, sir....
“I’ll call you when I have it in hand....
“Bye.”
I hung up the fake call and frowned regretfully at Todd. “I have to go to the office.”
“Now?”
“Yeah. Broward needs something for court tomorrow and he wants me to send it to him now. ASAP, in fact.” I ripped off the page and stuffed it in my purse. I handed the pen and paper to him and leaned forward, kissing him briefly on the cheek.
“Thanks for the invite, Todd. Sorry I couldn’t stay for the movie.”
“Want me to come with you?”
God, no! “Aww, that’s sweet, but no. I don’t know how long it’ll take, or if Broward will want me to do other stuff there.”