“I know,” I say, giving her one more longing kiss.
“For what is worth, if I had found you before, maybe we could’ve been perfect together.”
She kisses my cheek and pats it, “Doubt it. Take care of yourself, Nathaniel.”
Fourteen
Nyx
Nothing says professional better than reaching for a trash can during a mediation. The stupid bug is back. Yesterday I was fine. Maybe Mom is right, and I have an ulcer. This must be due to the stress. It has been a terrible day and it’s only eleven in the morning. Earlier today, I lost a case. This day can’t get any worse.
Can it?
Once I’m done heaving, I excuse myself and run to the bathroom to rinse, clean myself, and try to settle down before I go back to the conference room.
“Better?” my client asks, arms crossed, hateful glare, and foot tapping.
“Umm, yes. Sorry, I think I caught a bug while I was in New York.”
She sighs. “Listen, you’ve been gone for a long time, and I need someone to be here for me. Your firm came highly recommended, and you’re one of the best family law attorneys, but I think I’m going to hire someone else before my soon to be ex-husband ends up with everything we own.”
Not my fault, sweetheart. You’re the stupid one who met with him thinking he was going to ask for forgiveness and move you back into the house where he’s now living with his mistress.
“I told you to wait until I was back,” I argue, and this is why I try to avoid divorce cases, but Sarah, my boss, doesn’t understand the meaning of the word, no. “You’re the one who decided to sit down with your ex-husband and his lawyer without me. You can’t blame me for not taking my advice.”
She huffs. “So, you're telling me that they reduced the alimony because of me? That’s rich. You made me lose that twenty percent.”
“No, I told you to stay at home and wait for me. What did you do?”
“They tricked me,” she defends herself.
I try not to give her a do you think I’m stupid lecture and instead I hit her with the facts, “They have a recording. I’m trying to fix what we—”
“You’re fired,” she interrupts me, turns around and leaves.
My boss has no boundaries. Sarah Bryant thinks that she not only owns the place but owns us all. When she wants to speak to us, she lets herself into our offices. It doesn’t surprise me to find her waiting for me when I arrive at the firm. This is like the cherry on top to end my Monday of Hell.
She glares at me. Her eyes bore into mine, her jaw is clenched, and her finger is wagging at me, “I didn’t hire you to drag the name of my firm through the mud. You lost the Bortner case.”
No, I didn’t lose it. More like I puked, had to run to the restroom, and the new counselor—your nephew—opened his mouth without me being in the room. He lost the case. Oh, by the way, you should stop hiring your family and start searching for good lawyers.
Of course, that’s not what I tell her because I’d like to stay employed for a few more years.
“We were going to settle with the hours the ex-wife was offering us,” I remind her. “This custody case was…delicate. He agreed to go to rehab and stop drinking. He didn’t, and your nephew said, ‘Dude, you smell like a distillery,’ while I was taking a break. You should teach him to keep his mouth shut.”
Yes, I lost the case, but if I’m being honest, I am happy that Joseph Bortner won’t be seeing his children. He’s a raging alcoholic—with money. The guy should stop paying lawyers to get him to see his kids. His wife divorced him because he was abusing her and his children. Get a hint, buddy. I should be defending people like his wife.
“Are you going to blame my nephew for Cathy Eigner’s dismissal too?”
“I emailed you about her case,” I respond, not adding that I was also puking when she decided to fire me.
“Well, we lost the client and she left us an ugly review.”
“Against my advice, she sat down with her soon to be ex-husband and his lawyer to iron out some of the divorce details. I told her not to do it while I was out of town.”
“You shouldn’t be out of town,” she growls.
“I agree, but you sent me to work a case with Edward.” My response is laced with frustration.
I should remind her that his license was suspended a couple of months ago and I’ve been doing his job. We’ve yet to finish with that case.
“Well, you should’ve told me. We have plenty of lawyers who could have represented you while you were helping Eddy.”
My God, the man is almost forty and they still call him Eddy.
I sigh and nod. “Look, Sarah, I’m not sure what you want me to tell you. Losing the Bortner case isn’t the end of the world.”
“You’re on probation,” she announces.
“What?” I ask, staring at her with horror. My stomach twists, and I barely reach the trash can.
I run to the bathroom to get cleaned. Looking at myself in the mirror I repeat. “You’ll be fine. This is just a bug, and that woman is just being spiteful because she’s bitter. You’re going to walk into that office and show her that she can’t intimidate you.”
When I come back, she gives me a pitiful glare.
“This is what I’m talking about,” she states. “You’re unprofessional. Your behavior during the mediation was atrocious. Throwing up, not even going back to the room to apologize...then losing the client. You’re lucky I don’t make you pack your things.”
Deep breaths, Nyx.
Once she’s out I close the door and call my mentor, Pierce Aldridge. If he was still working for the firm, things would be so different.
“Need help killing Edward yet?” he answers instead of greeting me.
“No, but I’m about to quit. Remind me why I need to stay,” I ask.
“You’re next in line to become a junior partner, but… Maybe it’s time to leave,” he says, and I freeze.
“What?” I ask, staring at the phone astonished by his words. “You told me this is worth it. How can you change the speech all of a sudden? Is this you, Aldridge?”
He laughs. “Yes, it’s me. Tell me what happened with my mother, Brassard.”
I explain everything from the litigation to just now and he huffs. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I mean…what am I going to do if she fires me?”
“Not about the job, your health. It sounds like you’re sick,” he amends.
“Mom thinks it’s an ulcer,” I comment, not mentioning the other probable causes.
“Go to the doctor,” he orders.
I sigh defeated because I should pack my things and just leave this hell hole. Then again, I need the job.
“As I said, she put me on probation. If I take an hour off, she’s going to fire me.”
“Document everything that’s happening,” he recommends. “If she fires you for any of this, we have a case against the firm.”
“We’re talking about your family.”
“Which is why I’ll represent you for free,” he offers.
“Are you still being held against your will? Because if that’s the case, you can’t do it.”
He laughs. “No, I’m living my best life. My advice to you is to stay until Mom fires you so we can take them down. I love my mother, but…the firm isn’t what it used to be. We know how they win some of the cases.”
By buying the judges, I don’t say out loud.
“You think she’s going to fire me?” I ask, scared.
“Honey, Ed is going to do something stupid and lose the case. You’re the one leading it, so he’ll blame you. I told you not to accept it. He’s done that before,” he announces, and I feel the entire weight of the world settling on my shoulders.
This phone call has the opposite effect of what I expected. What happened to work hard and fuck the opposition? Climb to the top… What am I supposed to do with his new advice?
“I can’t lose my job.”
“You can come and work f
or me,” he suggests.
“In the middle of nowhere Oregon? I thought we were working on getting you out of there,” I press, not understanding what is happening with him.
“It’s not as bad as I thought. Listen, I’m working on a deal, and I need your advice. I’ll email everything to your personal address. Bill me for that okay? Remind Mother that you’re good, but you’re better suited for corporate, estate law, and intellectual property. That’s what you were doing for me.”
“Like she’s going to listen. Send that over. I’ll go through it tonight and send you an invoice on Friday,” I agree. Usually, I’d say no, I’ll do it for free. However, if I’m going to be without a job soon, I might as well start gathering some seeds for the winter like a smart ant.
My conversation with Pierce doesn’t make me feel any better. He knows his mother better than the rest of us. She’s planning on firing me, and if she does, what am I supposed to do?
I don’t have time to think because nausea hits me hard and I end up puking in my trash can—again. Talk about having a shitty Monday. This is probably the worst I’ve had in a long time.
Fifteen
Nyx
It’s said that if an unfortunate event has already occurred twice, it will most likely happen a third time.
On Monday I lost a case and a client fired me. I’m not ready for the other shoe to drop, but I followed Pierce’s advice. I spent all night preparing for the worst. Those two events were enough ammunition to put me on probation. On Tuesday, things don’t get any better. I’m interviewing with a potential client. This IT company is growing, and they don’t have a legal department. They are contemplating the possibilities of hiring a law firm or hiring lawyers to work just for their company. It’s important for Bryant, LLP to land the account.
Since Pierce left, most of his corporate clients have left the firm too. He’s not working with them, but he referred them to a different legal firm. Now that I’m looking at everything closely, I can see how he’s screwing his family from afar. I have to sit down and talk to him to see what happened between them.
All morning I’ve been sick, and before I step into the conference room, I explain to Sarah that I’m not feeling well.
She doesn’t care, and like the previous day I end up vomiting and dry heaving for five minutes in a row. The clients excuse themselves. When I have my assistant call them to reschedule, they respond saying they have decided to go in a different direction.
Sarah blames it on me.
To no one’s surprise but Sarah’s, Edward Bryant fucks up the case even before we have to go to trial. I’m on the phone with the client when Sarah barges into my office. Security is right behind her.
“Out!” She yells, making me jump.
“I’m on the line trying to salvage what your nephew did,” I protest. “Pierce and I think that—”
“Wait, you discussed this case with someone outside our firm.”
“Pierce is your son,” I remind her.
“He could be the pope and you are still not allowed to discuss this case with him. He doesn’t work for Bryant, LLP. This is a breach of the client confidentiality agreement. I’ll be filing against your license.”
I feel as if a cluster of spark plugs ignites in my abdomen. Tension grows in my face and my limbs. My breathing becomes shallow, and I have to remind myself that it’s going to be okay. She can’t do anything. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours documenting everything that’s happened in this firm since Pierce left. Deep breaths, slowly, take air in and out.
Once I calm down, I pack my personal belongings while I finish backing up my external hard drive.
When I arrive home, I feel lost. What am I supposed to do now? I pull out my computer and stare at the black screen. It’s as if someone just pulled off my limbs and I don’t know how I’m going to function anymore.
I’m not sure what time it is, but it’s dark outside when my phone rings. Pierce’s name appears on the screen.
“Brassard here,” I answer, my mouth tastes like metal and my throat is dry.
“You okay there?” Pierce asks. “You hung up on me when my mom entered your office and I haven’t heard from you for hours.”
I don’t have the energy to answer and he speaks, “My mother called me. They need help with a case that you fucked up. I’m assuming Eddy blamed you, and he’s using you as his scapegoat. Which brings me to my next conclusion. They fired you.”
“Well, counselor, two out of two,” I say, and it’s as if they are the magical words to open the dam. I begin crying, and I can’t stop myself.
The crying seems like yet another way to disrupt my stomach and I’m puking again. This time I run to the kitchen sink. Once I clean myself and get ahold of my emotions, I grab my phone.
“Sorry,” I sniff. “It’s been a bad week.”
“And it’s just Tuesday,” he informs me. “Did you document everything as I told you?”
“Yes, I barely slept because I worked on it all night. I had a bad feeling. However, she threatened to take away my license.”
“She won’t have time to do anything. She’s too busy with Eddy’s fuck up. We need to move fast,” he says and adds, “Can you please go to the doctor soon?”
I hear voices in the background and then he asks, “What are your symptoms.”
I give him a brief history of my nausea, fatigue, and mood swings. He repeats them to whoever is around him and the guy says, “Sounds like what Blaire has.”
“Who is this Blaire, who are you talking to, and what does she have? Dad diagnosed me with stomach cancer,” I say, yawning.
“I’m with my oldest brother. He’s a doctor,” he answers. “Blaire has hyperemesis gravidarum.”
“English, please?” I ask, hoping the guy can send me the prescription to the pharmacy and I can skip the doctor.
“Excessive vomiting during pregnancy,” Pierce responds.
“No, I can’t be pregnant, “I protest. “Your brother is wrong.”
“Defensive,” Pierce highlights. “So, there’s a possibility.”
“Fuck!” I grunt. “I’ll call you later.”
I take a shower, change my clothes, and head to the pharmacy. Once I’m back, I stare at the boxes I bought. One of these seven tests has to be right. All of them say that they can give results as early as the first missed period. Checking my calendar, I realize that my last period was two weeks ago. It was light, but I had a period.
This is a waste of time.
Why am I even listening to Pierce and his brother?
Because he’s the second person who suggested the possibility, and unlike your mother, he is a real doctor.
Instead of taking the test, I head to the kitchen and look for some food. It’s to no surprise that I only find leftovers growing green stuff on top of them.
“This is a wakeup call,” I tell myself. “You’re not pregnant, but you’re unemployed. This is your opportunity to reinvent yourself.”
When I pick up the phone, I find a notification from Nate.
Nate: Call me when you’re back from work.
Nyx: It’s eleven your time, are you still up?
Nate: Heading back home from the office. It was a long ass day and it made me think of my favorite workaholic.
Reading his text, I start crying because I’m unemployed. My phone rings and it’s him.
“Hey,” I sniff.
“What happened?”
Between sobs, I tell him how my week has been going, and I can’t stop crying as I tell him that my boss threatened to take away my license.
“She won’t be able to touch you. Trust me. Her firm will be closed before she tries to file any documentation against you,” he assures me. “I need you to take a breath.”
“I’m trying, but I can’t stop crying,” I say angrily. “It’s like someone opened the fucking dam and the water flows freely. There’s no valve to stop this insanity. Let me call you when I feel less…or more…I’m not even s
ure what I’m feeling anymore.”
“Call if you need me, okay?”
After he hangs up, I find some courage to grab the boxes, head to the bathroom, and use the first test. According to the box, two lines means pregnant. The longest sixty seconds of my existence pass, and after I look at the small window I feel my blood draining, so I try the next test. Then another one. And when I’m done with the seven, all of them agree. My entire world just flipped.
Sixteen
Nyx
And just like that, my world went sideways. I don’t think it’s upside down. Perhaps it is downside up, and there’s no way to put it back in the right place.
Ever.
I’ve heard that having a kid is life changing and when one learns about them, it is the happiest day of one’s life. My future has gone from frightening to scary as hell. I cried for an entire night—and I’ve yet to find my happiness. On Wednesday morning I can barely open my eyes. My phone is dead, and when I have enough energy to charge it, there are several texts from Nate.
Nate: Are you okay?
Nate: Answer your phone.
Nate: Why is my call going to voicemail?
Nate: Nyx, I need to know that you’re okay or I’ll call the National Guard.
Nate: Please, call me.
Nyx: My phone died. Please, don’t send anyone to check on me.
Nate: How are you?
Nyx: I’ll be fine.
Nate: I don’t like the sound of that.
I stare at the phone that begins ringing. I decline the call.
Nyx: I promise to call you once I can talk.
Nate: Why can’t we talk now?
Nyx: I’m not in a good place.
He doesn’t respond and I sigh with relief. I’m usually the stubborn one who doesn’t let go until I am sure the person on the other line is okay. My siblings drop it the moment I say I need time. This guy takes more than one text to give me space. In all honesty, I’m not sure if I want the space.
Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds Book 2) Page 10