by Jan Moran
“You’re quite a woman,” Johnny said, admiration in his voice. He pulled the car in front of her classic townhouse. The sun was rising, and birds were chirping in the purple blossomed jacaranda trees.
Scarlett stepped out of the car with trepidation. Johnny put his arm around her and escorted her to the front door. Even though she’d vanquished her attacker, she felt safer having him so close to her. She turned her key in the lock and Johnny went in first, checking each room.
“This is the cleanest place I’ve ever seen,” he said, taking in her near-empty rooms. “But that’s only because you don’t have anything but a bed in here.”
“That’s not true. I have a desk and a chair, too.”
“What do you do with this emptiness, throw sock hops on Saturday nights?”
Scarlett started laughing. “Sock hops? Have you been watching Happy Days reruns again?”
Johnny crossed his arms and grinned. “It’s good to see you laugh. Now go get ready. I’ll make myself comfortable… on the floor.”
She hurried into the bathroom and showered, feeling much safer that he was here. As the warm water streamed over her hair, she thought about the incident. Was it a random attack? Her car was the only one left there. Didn’t the guy have earlier opportunities? Or was she the target. If so, the man had to wait a long time for her.
She dressed and just before she left, she sent the video she’d taken on her phone of Fleur to the investigator. She’d planned to meet him last night. But she’d never made it.
“I can take it from here, Johnny.” They had left her car here last night.
“Are you sure? I don’t want you parking in that garage again.”
“The police seemed to think it was a random occurrence.”
“The police.” Johnny stared at her. “Is that what you think, counselor?
Sometimes she thought he knew her too well. “I don’t know for certain, but I have to go to work. I’m meeting with the partners this morning.” Eight years she’d been waiting for this day. She wasn’t going to let the events of last night stop her from getting the partnership she’d earned.
“Promise to call me after you meet with them?” Johnny faced her and took her hands in his.
She glanced down. His hands felt firm and seemed to transmit strength through her hands, warming her to her core. “I promise,” she said, her voice sounding a little thick to her ears.
He kissed her on the cheek. “Good luck, chica. I’ll be thinking of you.”
7
JOHNNY PULLED INTO a parking place in front of the restaurant and waved to Lance and Maude, who were already standing in front of the little stone cottage. Maude had called him yesterday saying that she and her husband had spoken, and she wanted to see the restaurant right away.
“Good morning,” Johnny said, kissing her on the cheek. Maude looked lovely in a white silk pantsuit and a broad-brimmed hat. He turned to Lance and said, “Thanks for bringing Maude this morning. I had an emergency with Scarlett.”
“And a good morning to you, my—what was it?—my Latin lover boy toy. Yes, I think that was it.” Maude patted Johnny’s muscular arm.
Lance chuckled. “Look, Maude, I think I see paparazzi.” Joking, he pointed across the street.
“Why do think I wore this giant hat?”
“To hide?”
“No, for a better shot. It frames my face, don’t you think?” Maude struck a pose. “There, I hope they got that. It was my best side.”
“The owner’s not here yet?” Johnny was anxious to get inside.
“He called and said he’s running late,” Lance replied.
An attractive woman with a groomed standard poodle on a leash approached them. “Why, I don’t believe it,” she said, pushing oversized sunglasses over a mane of dark curly hair.
“Carla?” What are you doing here?” Johnny gave her a quick hug, trying not to touch too much skin, which was easier said than done. She wore a tight spandex sports bra and tiny shorts.
“It’s my regular morning walking route. What are you doing here?” She gazed behind him.
Johnny introduced her to Maude and Lance. He and Carla had gone to school together. Carla had married—and divorced—a well-known film director. Now she was a wealthy woman who spent her days doing zumba, having lunch, and going power shopping.
Lance spoke up. “We’re thinking about opening a restaurant here. Do you live nearby?”
“Johnny knows I do. I could bring in all the neighbors.” She smiled up at Johnny. “And then I wouldn’t have to drive so far to see you.”
“Ah, Carla, Carla. Always teasing me.” Johnny feigned surprise, but he knew all he had to do was call her, and she’d come running. Not that he had, but Carla definitely had an eye for him. She’d been showing up at the Polo Lounge right before closing and dropping hints for him to invite her out. Or take her home.
But that wasn’t his style. He liked to choose, and he was very selective. Of course, Carla was attractive, and normally he’d call on her. But someone else had just landed in his life again.
“Johnny, I asked you a question.” Carla touched his chin and turned his face toward her. “Are you free on Saturday night?”
“Saturday? Our busiest night, you know. Private party, I’m afraid.”
Lance and Maude traded looks.
“Well, keep it in mind all the same. And if you need a decorator for this place, give me call.”
“Look, here’s the owner,” Lance said.
Carla brightened. “Great, I’m dying to see the inside. I can give you some ideas right now.”
Johnny sighed, and Maude winked at him from under her broad-brimmed hat.
Scarlett sat down at the conference table and folded her hands on the table. From all outward appearances, she was cool, competent, and confident. But inside, her nerves were doing a cha-cha in her stomach.
She gazed around the table at the partners. Every seat was taken by a man in a dark conservative suit. The mood was as somber as a funeral parlor. The scent of men’s cologne was overpowering, which wasn’t helping her queasiness.
Lucan cleared his throat. “We called you here today for the obvious reason. Scarlett, let me begin by saying how much we appreciate your dedication to Marsh & Gold. We are a better firm for having you in our midst.”
Scarlett inclined her head in a slight acknowledgement of his compliment. Why then, did she feel like she was waiting for the guillotine?
“You have certainly put in the hours necessary to become a partner here. However, our decision is predicated upon a number of points.”
Scarlett sensed a swirling undercurrent and felt the need to reinforce her value. “Among the associates, I’m the best candidate for partnership at the firm. I’ve brought a substantial amount of business into the firm and will continue to do so, in addition to pro bono work.”
“Of course. We appreciate that. Your future compensation will reflect such contributions.”
A small silence ensued.
The conversation was not going as she’d expected. Equity partners had ownership stakes in the firm. Were they going down the path of a non-equity partnership?
“As you know, we have many talented associates and only a limited number of partnership openings. Our decision is no reflection upon your skills, which are quite fine, as we all agree.”
Heads bobbed around the table, and she couldn’t shake the thought of bobble-headed attorneys going through the mechanics.
Scarlett braced herself. Every nerve in her body was tingling with apprehension.
Lucan lowered his gaze. “We will make an announcement this afternoon that David Baylor is the newest partner in the firm.”
Stunned, all Scarlett could do was blink. Eight years of her life. Her mouth felt dry, and she had to remember to breathe. This can’t be happening. She struggled to compose herself and find her voice.
“Of course, we’d like—”
Scarlett jerked to her feet, cutting off Lu
can. She’d heard enough. She faced the partners. “Gentleman. Thank you for your consideration.”
She threw a glare at Lucan, whipped around, and strode to the door. She hurried through the hallway on legs weak as putty. The dark green walls were closing in on her, robbing her of her breath. Everything felt surreal, as if this nightmare were happening to someone else.
Not her.
Not the woman who had given her life to the firm, who had endured snide comments, unreasonable clients, and biased partners; who had passed up weekends, trips with friends, even sleep and love. And who had endured Lucan Blackstone’s harassment.
How dare they?
Sure, David was a fine attorney, but even he didn’t think he’d performed well enough to make partner this year. He’d told her so just last week. She was the best partner candidate that firm had, and she knew it. Everyone knew it.
So what had just happened?
Her heart pounding, she stopped by her office, snatched her purse, rode the elevator down, and burst into the bright sunshine. She gulped the fresh air. But it did nothing to assuage the hurt and anger surging through her.
She could’ve asked them why, but she’d known the answer would be vague and inconclusive.
In short, a lie.
She circled a flowing fountain a couple of times in an effort to reign in her flailing nerves, and she then tapped an email to her assistant saying she was taking the remainder of the day off.
As she headed to her car, she couldn’t help but think there was more to this denial than she’d been told. The back of her neck was crawling with alarm.
In her experience in the legal field, she’d learned there were few true coincidences. And in the past week, there had been far too many. Fleur, High Gloss, Lucan, her attacker.
Someone was pulling the strings of her life, and it had cost her the partnership she’d worked her entire adult life for. She brushed an angry tear from her eye.
She was determined to find out who it was, and why they were doing it.
Scarlett gritted her teeth. This was not over. Far from it.
She punched a number on her phone.
Zelda Robinson stood and splayed her fingers on her antique desk. “Scarlett, what seems to be the problem?”
Behind her mentor, palm trees swayed over the village streets of Beverly Hills. With tapestry cushions and potted orchids, Zelda’s comfortable office was a far cry from Scarlett’s cold corporate offices in Century City. “I was passed over for partner.”
On the way to Zelda’s, she’d called Johnny as promised. When Johnny asked her if congratulations were in order, she’d lost her temper, spewing a string of Spanish expletives over the phone. Then, when she heard Carla Ramirez talking in the background, she hung up. Why give him the chance to lie to her, too?
Scarlett shook off her anger. She had immense respect for her former law school professor. Zelda was a high profile attorney whose specialty was women’s issues, including sexual harassment, equal pay, healthcare, education, and child care. More than that, Zelda was a friend, and she valued her advice. Pent up words tumbled out. “I thought I had it. I was the best choice at the firm. A partner told me last week I had it.” She bit her lip in consternation. “Something rotten is going on.”
“That’s a natural reaction.” Zelda nodded her short, stylish grey hair and sat down. She’d been one of Scarlett’s law professors, and she had a private practice. “Is there anything specific you might attribute this to?”
Scarlett outlined the events of the past week, disclosing only what she could without breaching her attorney client privilege with High Gloss. However, she told her about the CNBC news report and other public details.
Zelda listened thoughtfully. “And how are your relationships at the firm?”
“They were excellent. Before the return trip from London,” she added. She went on to tell Zelda about Lucan’s behavior on the flight.
“Sexual harassment. Not surprising.” Zelda steepled her hands. “Plan to do anything about it?”
“I thought about filing a complaint with Human Resources, but with the partnership decision so close, I didn’t. I know whistleblowers are often crucified, so I didn’t say anything. Once I made partner, I thought I’d have more leverage to make positive changes at the firm.”
“That’s logical. But it didn’t work out that way, did it?”
“No.” Scarlett considered Zelda’s comments. “At least I still have a job, and they indicated my compensation would be raised.”
“Did they give you a new employment agreement?”
“I left in a hurry.”
“You have two choices. Stick it out or leave. It’s really that simple.”
After Scarlett left Zelda’s office, she called the investigator she’d sent the video of the CNBC segment to. One of her law school classmates who practiced personal injury had referred him to her. He was a whiz at technology.
“Rob, have you had a chance to take a look at that video?”
“Not yet, Scarlett. Give me a few days. I’m pretty swamped right now.”
Scarlett had watched the video several times, but the quality on her phone was poor. Rob had the tools to sharpen the image and look closer.
“Great, and let me know as soon as you have something.” Scarlett hung up. She had to solve this puzzle before things really got out of hand.
8
THE NEXT DAY, Scarlett strode into the office with confidence, wearing her best black Armani suit with a white silk blouse and pearls. But she’d barely had a chance to open her briefcase when her assistant buzzed her.
“Lucan wants to see you in his office.”
And she wanted to see him. Straightening her shoulders, she walked into his office. Unfortunately, David was there, along with Lucan’s assistant.
“What’s up?” Scarlett acted calm, as if her world had not exploded yesterday.
Lucan looked up. “David brought in a Spanish cosmetics company who needs to have their intellectual property agreements reviewed before they go public. They’re moving their operation to New York.”
David’s face turned red. “Well, I didn’t exactly bring it in. Scarlett, you made the contact and the pitch. I just took the call this morning.”
Scarlett tapped her foot. “So where do we begin?”
“The two of you are going to Spain. Scarlett, you can interpret for David.”
Now she was being demoted to interpreter. “They speak English just fine.”
“We’d still like for you to go,” Lucan said smoothly. “David, why don’t you brief Scarlett? Take the small conference room. I’ll join you shortly.” He swiveled in his chair and addressed his assistant, signaling the end of the meeting.
As they walked to the conference room, David turned to Scarlett. “What can I say? It should’ve been you. Maybe next time.”
“Sure, maybe so.” Scarlett couldn’t be angry at David. They’d been colleagues for years and law school students before that. She quirked up a corner of her mouth in an attempt at a smile. “Your fiancée must be happy for you.”
“She was planning a celebration dinner this weekend, but now it will have to wait. Reality is quickly setting in, I suppose.” He held the conference room door for her, and they sat down at the table and spread out their notes.
“For the record, I think you did one heck of a job with Fleur.” David made a face. “She was one tough client. A real nut case.”
“I appreciate the sentiments.” She took a breath to say something and then hesitated.
“What were you going to say?”
Scarlett rested her chin on her hand, thinking. “I saw Fleur on CNBC. She’d sent them a video to air about her decision to go with Color Color instead of High Gloss.”
“What a prima donna.”
“There was something strange about the video.”
“What’s that?”
“When I picked her up the Chateau Marmont the morning after we returned from London, Fleur
had a fat lip. She said she’d slipped in the shower.” Scarlett narrowed her eyes.
“And did you believe her?”
“Not really, but that’s not the point.”
David leaned closer. “So what is your point, counselor?”
“Supposedly she made her decision to go with Color Color based on High Gloss’s reluctance to share her artistic vision. And she made that decision after the meeting with Olga.”
“I’m not following you.”
Scarlett ticked off points on her fingers. “High Gloss stock soared on the announcement of the deal with Fleur of London. The market anticipated their increased profits. Then, when Fleur backed out, their stock tumbled. When she signed with Color Color, their stock skyrocketed.”
“That’s normal, isn’t it?”
“True, but on tape Fleur said she made the decision after her meeting with High Gloss and signed with Color Color after she returned to London. I don’t think that’s true.”
David leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “Why not? And why would it matter?”
“In the video, Fleur’s fat lip had miraculously healed. It was a real bruiser, and swollen, too. There’s no makeup in the world that good. Not even High Gloss can make a foundation to cover a lump the size of a golf ball.”
David’s eyes widened. “So you think the video was shot beforehand?”
“Probably before we left London. She was in her office.”
“Someone could’ve made some serious money on the news.”
Scarlett pitched forward. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking.” She still had to verify what she’d seen, but she was ninety percent certain.
Later that evening, Scarlett stopped by her mother’s apartment for a late dinner. Isabel had made a salad and cold gazpacho, along with sweet empanadas for dessert. Scarlett loved the little half-moon pastries from her childhood.
The hardest part of the evening was telling her mother that she had not achieved her partnership goal.
Isabel hugged her. “When you were born, I didn’t look into my baby’s beautiful eyes and say, ‘I hope you make partner one day.’ No, I said, ‘I hope you have a beautiful life.’” She smiled at her. “Is there beauty on your path, mi niña?”