by Lex Martin
I’m hoping my dad can look past the Cartwright name and see Josh for who he really is. Because unlike my mother, Josh isn’t stuck up or weird about money. He’s not snobby or high-brow. I’m sure if my dad gives him a chance, he’ll see that Josh is down-to-earth and wonderful.
The only drawback of dating Josh is my increasing paranoia of getting found out at work. I’m starting to feel tortured by keeping him a secret.
This, us, goes against every ethical fiber in me. I’ve never cheated on a test, I don’t cut in lines, and before Josh, I’ve never entertained the idea of sleeping with a client, much less considered a relationship with one.
I should talk to Malcolm and switch Josh to a different attorney, but I keep obsessing over the possibility that this could expose Josh to someone who is less conscientious about maintaining his anonymity. In fact, last week, I overheard one of the partners joke about a client’s boob job and how she used her husband’s life insurance to pay for it after he passed away. It took me all of two seconds to figure out who they were talking about. I can only imagine the conversations that might go down if a few more people here get wind of Josh’s blog, and I will lose my shit if I overhear them talking about how he’s some kind of deviant.
This is a touchy subject with Josh too, because while he wants us to be open about our relationship, I know he doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of switching to a different attorney.
But maybe it’s time we talk about this and make a plan.
As I pour my cup of coffee at the counter, Angela, Nathan, and a few other staff members stroll in, carrying bags of Chinese food.
“Want some?” Nathan asks.
I shake my head. “No, I just ate, but thanks.”
Although I’d love to dive into a container of egg rolls, I’ve been so good lately working out and eating well. It helps that I have tons of motivation. I guess having hot romps with a sexy guy will do that for a girl.
Honestly, I love being with Josh. From the way we help each other focus when we need to get our work done to how much I love hanging out and watching a movie with him. I bite my lip to hide a stupid smile, the one that always erupts when I think about him.
If only I didn’t have this exasperating work conflict hanging over my head.
Once I’m done prepping my coffee, I turn back toward the table and find that Angela has set down a container of sweet and sour chicken on top of my work. My eye twitches.
“Can I get those?” I ask as I head back toward her.
“Oh, sorry,” she says, not sounding the least bit remorseful, when she snatches up the folders.
I dart around the table and reach for them, but she ignores me, taking a moment to flip through my materials. What the fuck?
“Do you mind?” I say, yanking them away.
Her brow lifts, a sneer contorting her face.
What is that? What’s that look?
Glancing down, I’m grateful that the top file isn’t Josh’s, but now I’m worried she saw something she shouldn’t have.
When my eyes meet Nathan’s, he’s frowning. Please tell me he sees what a bitch she’s being right now.
He reaches into a bag and pulls out a fortune cookie and hands it to me as I make my way through the lounge in a huff. “One for the road.”
“Thanks.” I give him a small smile and take it, grateful that he’s been cool since that awkward brunch with Malcolm and Gwen.
I’m about to head back to my office when Angela laughs. “Did you guys hear about Simpson Sanders? He got disbarred for sleeping with his client.” I pause mid-step as she snorts with laughter and turn back to the table where Angela presides over a table now filled with my colleagues. My heart is pounding in my chest. Is she trying to tell me something? Does she know about me and Josh? “Sanders somehow convinced some old bat to write him into her will. Idiot.”
Everyone starts chiming in, and within a minute, one of the guys pulls up the Oregon bar website so they can read about the details.
“The disciplinary board disbarred Portland attorney Simpson H. Sanders for commencing a sexual relationship with a client, dishonest conduct, charging excessive fees…”
The list goes on and on.
My coworkers are howling with laughter, but my attention snags on Rule 1.8 (j), which pertains to conflicts of interest. I know this one by heart. It’s the one that says attorneys can’t sleep with clients.
My stomach is in a knot, and sweat breaks out on my neck. Seriously, what am I doing? My whole life is on the line here. I’m crazy about Josh—ass-over-head crazy about him—but if we don’t maneuver this correctly at work, I’m jeopardizing my entire career.
Like a mannequin, I’m frozen in place as I process everything.
I’m on the verge of running back to my office and calling Josh to set up an appointment with Malcolm when Nathan’s voice cuts through my internal freak-out.
“Did you guys read Fleming’s email?” he asks, which is met with immediate groans.
That’s when the devil himself waddles in. Bill Fleming is a balding man with a tire around his mid-section and an anvil for a heart. Since I’m the closest one to the doorway, I’m the one who has to deal with his leering. Of course, since he’s a short man, I’m sure he would probably say my breasts are at eye level and he isn’t trying to stare.
“People!” he barks after he checks out my modestly-displayed cleavage. “I hope you all took time to read my email this morning. Our third fiscal quarter was abysmal. Abysmal! Until you get caught up on billing, we’re cutting salaries and canceling your bonuses. Maybe that will light a fire under you to make sure your accounts are up to date.” He taps on the door. “Only Angela is caught up, and that, my friends, is how you make partner some day.”
She winks at him, and I vomit a little in my mouth.
My stomach is in a free-fall.
Because now is probably not the best time to relinquish clients.
Except I can’t wait any longer. Not if Josh and I are serious.
24
Josh
Snapping my laptop closed, I look up and breathe in the stale smell of old popcorn and spilled soda.
The Sellwood movie theater is one of America’s oldest single-screen theaters. Built in 1925, this is a useless throwback compared to the huge multi-screen complexes that have recliner seats and the latest in technology. Everything is small, sticky, old.
It would be easier to raze it and build anew. That’s what I was trained as an architect to do—build anew.
But I love the challenge of working within the design constraints—working within the system, basically, to get the job done my way. I think it’s more interesting, more in tune with the urban environment. I love to update buildings to make them more efficient and eco-friendly, like my loft.
As I walk around, I check the measurements for the seating. Hanging out in a vacant theater in the middle of the day feels strange. Normally you get to a seat and stay there, experiencing the visuals and the sound. I imagine the new seats will be luxurious so people will want to settle in for a two-hour movie. After all, it’s what’s on the screen that matters—the other world they enter into while watching it.
Like my blog. It’s a fantasy, not real.
Speaking of fantasies, I pull up Evie’s number when I realize the theater manager is running late.
She picks up after the first ring. “Hey, handsome.”
“How’s my girl?” It feels so good to call her that.
“Missing you. This week has been insane. I take care of a few things on my to-do list only to have ten more piled on my desk. This billing situation here is out of control.” She growls, and it’s adorable. “At this rate, I won’t leave my desk until the new year. If only I didn’t have a mortgage. And student loans.”
I frown and place my messenger bag on the ground. “Sorry to hear that, baby. You know, if you need some money, I can float you until—”
“No, Josh. Do not finish that sentence. Even if the
y reduce my pay, I’ll make it. I do not want your money.”
It’s not every day I get turned down when I offer someone cash. Even Tiffany, with all of her family’s wealth, would never have turned me down if she were in Evie’s position.
Although I’ve paid her attorney’s fees, I don’t think they’re as high as they should be considering the work she did. Since we’re dating, I think she’s being overly cautious with her billable hours, which is bullshit because I want to pay what I owe.
But now is not the time to bring it up. I don’t want to upset her any more than she already is.
She’s quiet for a moment. “We need to meet with Malcolm about our situation. Maybe early next week. I know we’re both anxious to… resolve this.”
Resolve this. In other words, find me another attorney.
Shit.
I can hear the worry in her voice, and while there’s nothing more I want than to be open about my relationship with her, I’m guessing getting me off her client list won’t help her financial situation.
With a sigh, I rub the back of my neck. “Baby, that can wait.” God, did I really just say that? “Look, get through your workload, and once things ease up there, we can handle this together.” In a few weeks, things will calm down for her, and we can move ahead to get me reassigned at her firm.
“Are you… are you sure?”
“Evie, I hate that you’re stressed out. Let me drop off some dinner. You have to eat.”
“You’re so sweet. It’s okay. I packed enough this morning when I made my lunch so I won’t starve.” I can still feel the tension radiating off her. “I don’t mean to take this out on you. I swear I’m fine.”
I lower my voice. “I can think of at least one way to work out the tension.”
A little whimper escapes her. “I wish. Unfortunately, I’ll be here late tonight. And tomorrow. Every day this week.”
“You need someone to walk Chauncey?”
“No, honey. Thank you for offering. My neighbor is planning to stop by each evening until I’m not chained to my desk.”
“I’ll still see you this weekend, right?”
“Absolutely. Attorney-client privilege,” she jokes.
It’s good to hear her laugh. “Do I get boyfriend privileges too?”
“For wining and dining me and my best friend? Absolutely.” she whispers. “You get the all-access pass. Anything you want.” Her voice, low and sultry, sends all the blood south. I groan as images of my naked girlfriend scroll through my mind. Her mouth parting when I push into her, those gorgeous tits bouncing with every thrust. The way her nails dig into my ass when she comes on my cock.
I clear my throat. “Yeah, uh, thanks for giving me a hard-on in the middle of the day.”
She laughs, and it makes me smile. I’m finding I’d do anything to make this girl smile.
It sounds like she pulls away from the phone. I can hear her talking in the background, and when she returns, she sounds rushed. “I’m so sorry I need to go, but I wanted to let you know that Kendall and I are really looking forward to Sunday. Is Drew still coming?”
“I’ve reminded him at least twice this week, so he’d better be there.”
The moment she gets off the phone, I miss her. This is going to be a long damn week.
A few minutes later, as I weave my way past broken seats taped off with yellow caution tape, the theater manager finally pops his head in the doorway, silhouetted in the bright lobby. After apologizing for making me wait, he holds out his arms, gesturing to the expansive seating area. “Can’t wait until you make this baby shine.”
“Neither can I. Bet you’ll have a killer premiere.” I start envisioning coming with Evie on my arm.
“We will. We’ve been working with Gary the Gossip to get a film festival going.”
My dream skitters to a halt.
Well, damn. So much for attending the film festival. Not with that slimeball presiding over it. Just this morning, he published a piece about my breakup with Tiffany and how I’m now “dating a mystery woman.” Like anyone gives a shit about that.
Fuck. I should’ve warned Evie about Gary’s post. Not that he wrote anything specific about her, but I know it’s weird to see “news” online about your boyfriend if you’re not prepared. I let out a breath, debating whether this will stress her out more.
As the manager flips on the lights, my phone buzzes in my hand, alerting me to a message from Drew.
Scrubbing my face, I laugh. Fine, at least one person cares about my dating status.
Can I be ur mystery woman, Joshy-poo?
Suck it, turd, I type back. Don’t forget dinner this weekend!
After I’m done reviewing my notes with the theater manager, the sun is still bright along the horizon when I get to my car.
My phone buzzes again, this time with a text from Spencer.
My house NOW.
Does anyone care that it’s the middle of the workday? Not my brother, apparently.
I’m busy, I text.
Immediately, a call comes in. Without preamble, I hear, “I know he’s your friend, but seriously, can’t you get a handle on him?”
“Hello to you too, Spence. I see your political career has made you remember all the niceties of conversation.”
“Goddamn it, Josh. You need to help me.”
“And who are you talking about?”
“Drew. He tags along with you to every event, and he’s always wasted. One stupid story ends up in the news, and I’ve lost.”
I snort. “Then why the hell did you invite that gossip blogger? Gary’s an ass. Did you see what he wrote about me this morning? He’s the one who will ruin you. Not Drew.”
“I’m sorry the news is so slow that Portland has to be entertained with your dating status.”
“Hey, it ain’t easy being a stud.” I can tell by his laugh that he knows I’m joking. “Spence, not all of us can be the savior of the masses.”
His voice softens. “Look, I need the publicity, but I need the right kind. And you know better than I do that Drew can be bad news. He seemed like such a normal kid growing up. How did he end up being such a fuck up?”
My jaw tightens. Drew might be a mess, but he’s been there for me more than anyone in my immediate family. “That’s easy. His parents don’t give a shit about him while ours are up our asses.”
“Yeah. I get it.” Spence pauses. “But can you do me this favor? Please?”
As many times as I’ve envied Spencer, as many times as I’ve wished I was more like him, I don’t want his life. I like mine just fine. But I’ll always support him. “Okay. I’ll keep Drew away until after the election.”
The moment I say those words, though, I have a twinge of regret. I don’t like hiding my friends. Just like I don’t like hiding my girlfriend.
“Thanks, brother. This is really important to me.” He’s quiet a moment. “You always do the right thing, Josh. You know that? You always do.”
I swallow, the swelling of some emotion I can’t quite name blooming in my chest.
Because I hope I’m doing the right thing. As much as I’ve resented my family at times, I love them and want them to do well. And I’d hate for my blog to come back to bite me on the ass and hurt them in the process.
Even though AATD is doing better than it ever has, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s really worth the risk.
25
Evie
Kendall weaves us through traffic on our way to the restaurant to meet Josh and Drew. I didn’t think telling her Josh’s identity would be a big deal, but I guess I was wrong because she’s gone completely mute.
A few minutes later, I clear my throat. “Are you mad I didn’t tell you? You know I couldn’t disclose who Josh was until he said it was okay.”
She shakes her head and her thick red hair falls over her shoulder. “No, I’m not mad at you. It’s just a lot to take in.”
“You said it yourself that this should be simple. Josh and I both
like each other and want to take things further. Anything outside of our relationship shouldn’t matter.”
As she pulls her BMW into the turn lane, she tilts her head to look at me. “For the typical guys you date, this is not a big deal. But you’re dating Josh freaking Cartwright, one of the heirs to the Cartwright mega-fortune and one of the biggest porn bloggers in the country. I’d say this is a big deal. Especially if any of this lands in the press.”
She mutters that last part under her breath as she returns her attention to the road.
Her words send a bolt of unease through me. “Kendall, you promised you wouldn’t utter a word of this to anyone.”
Frowning, she gives me the side-eye. “Of course I’m not telling anyone. Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick rusty needles in my eye.” That promise, the words we’ve been saying since we were kids, makes me smile. “I’m just…” She shakes her head, and silence fills the car while I wait for her to finish what she was saying.
“Just what?”
“I’m worried about all of this. I mean, his brother is running for Congress! You weren’t joking when you said Josh was a high-profile client, and people like this always have leeches who use their proximity to them for their own gain. I’d hate to see you get caught in the middle if anything went wrong.”
Ugh. This conversation is not going the way I planned.
“You and Drew are the only two people who know about Josh’s blog, and I think that secret is safe with his best friend.”
“Fine, but what about your office? It’s huge. Any number of people there could get wind of this. Your secretary always screws up my calls. You’re sure she won’t see his files and leak that info? Add the complication that you’re sleeping with a client, and this reeks of trouble.”
“Penny wouldn’t rat him out. She’d never risk her job over something like that. She’s actually a great secretary. Our phone system is ancient, and no one ever took the time to train her properly, so don’t blame her for the firm’s cheapskate ways.”