Animalistic Galley Fin

by Lizzie Lynn Lee

  “Sabrina, I left my phone on my desk yesterday.”

  “Oh.”

  Sabrina wasn’t satisfied unless she had a reason to chastise Arielle over an imagined mistake. She had been extremely vindictive since the day she took over the firm. Arielle had been her father’s protégé—she was on the fast track to partnership when her mother was diagnosed with terminal ovarian cancer. Arielle took sabbatical leave from work for seven months to take care her mother. When her mother passed away, Sabrina had taken over as chairman and Arielle’s position had been scrapped. Sabrina would love to be able to fire her, but Old Man Hoffman put his foot down. The firm, Sabrina decided, didn’t need any third year associates and she was offered a position as a senior paralegal as an insult. Sabrina expected her to quit, but her plan backfired. Arielle swallowed her pride and took her demotion in stride because she needed the money to pay her mother’s astronomical medical bills and while she had applied for other work, nothing had come through yet.

  That was six months ago.

  Ever since that day, it seemed Sabrina had made it her mission to make Arielle’s life as miserable as she could. And Arielle had vowed she would annoy Sabrina by staying at the firm for as long as she could manage. Why would she leave the firm so she could give Sabrina a victory? She planned on staying for the foreseeable future. Once she paid off the medical debts, though, she’d look for a new position somewhere else.

  Sabrina followed Arielle into her office. She pointed out a stack of documents on Arielle’s desk. “Check out the first folder. It contains a summons for Frank Darbo, the owner of the After Dark club. We need you to deliver it to him.”

  “Why me? Don’t we have a process server available?”

  “We do and he tried and failed. Darbo always seemed to sniff them out, so none of the process servers have panned out.”

  “What about the PI? Don’t we have that in-house investigator you just hired?”

  “It’s just our luck that Jessica is already on assignment in Vermont. She won’t be back until Friday. In the meantime, the summons must be delivered by tomorrow evening. Don’t screw up this job.”

  “Now, you just wait a minute. I’m a paralegal. This isn’t part of my job description.”

  Sabrina crossed her arms over her chest, looking triumphant. “Arielle, you do what I tell you to do. If you no longer want to follow my instructions, then feel free to look for another source of employment.” With that, she turned on her heels and exited Arielle’s office with the flounce of a peacock.

  Arielle deflated instantly.

  That bitch!

  Someone rapped on the door. Arielle looked up and saw her on and off and on again boyfriend, Chris Rolland, by the door. He was also an attorney at the firm and worked under Sabrina. They had been going out since their sophomore year in high school, but she had known him for a lot longer than that; they had been childhood friends since kindergarten.

  As a former star quarterback, Chris was tall, well-built, and reasonably good looking. Arielle had been crazy about him since the first time Chris asked her out. Chris said she was his first love. They had a bumpy ride over the years, yet had somehow managed to stay together.

  But over the last few months, they had drifted apart. Arielle suspected Chris had been cheating on her, but she didn’t have any proof. With her mother’s passing, losing her associate’s position, and the mounting medical bills she needed to pay, she didn’t have time to dwell on her suspicions. She had enough on her plate already.

  “Have you seen Sabrina?” Chris asked.

  “I’m fine, but thank you for asking,” she answered sarcastically. She looked like shit, her hair was messy, her clothes dirty, and the broken attaché sat on her desk, yet he remained oblivious. A sympathetic, “Hey, are you okay?” would be nice. After all, he was her boyfriend, right? She remained faithful all these years. Her eyes never even strayed to any other man. Arielle had been pretty when she was younger, but she knew she had kind of let herself go the last couple of years because of stress. Food was her refuge. Sweets were her anxiety release. Still, despite gaining that weight, she was still cute. Guys still looked at her. In fact, an insanely hot and gorgeous guy asked for her number earlier. She didn’t oblige him because she wasn’t single. Wouldn’t that, at least, merit her a brownie point of loyalty? Was a simple “Are you okay?” too much to ask?

  Chris’s expression darkened. “I wasn’t asking because I don’t want to get into an argument. I guess I can’t win, can I?”

  In Chris’ language, that meant he didn’t want to argue when she was clearly PMS-ing.

  Arielle gritted her teeth and counted to ten to calm herself. Everything was out of control and she felt like she was losing her grip on her sanity. Her crappy apartment was falling apart. Her career was circling the drain. Her financial outlook was dire and she had lost her mom, the one person who had been her pillar of her strength, to cancer. Truthfully, she felt lost. Was it, really, too much for her to ask for a little sympathy?

  Arielle tried to force her face into a blank expression. “Whatever.”

  Chris snorted and left.

  Arielle wondered if they should have gone their separate ways months ago. They broke up, but when she lost her mother, Chris said he wanted to reconcile, since Arielle needed emotional support. But Chris wasn’t of much comfort in her bereavement. He remained distant and aloof, so what was the point of them staying together?

  She drew a deep breath, her heart heavy with anxiety.

  Let it go. You don’t have time for this crap.

  Just let it go.

  Arielle decided to get to work to distract herself. She cleaned her desk and did some light filing. Since she had been demoted, she’d lost her secretary and assistant. She now did all the legwork for Sabrina’s cases. Researching and drafting strategies, preparing paperwork, all the things that Sabrina hated to do. All Sabrina needed to do now was to look good in front of the clients. The bitch rarely even argued her own cases at trial. It gave her frown lines, she’d said.

  Arielle went to the firm’s law library and did some research on an arbitration that had been dragging on for almost a year. She jotted down notes and filled almost a whole legal pad before she retreated to her office and typed a counter offer for Sabrina to present to the client. She then studied the documents that Sabrina gave her and did some research on Frank Darbo.

  Frank Augustine Darbo was a twenty-six-year-old entrepreneur, but he came from old money. His father owned a few construction companies in New York, Seattle, and Los Angeles. After several failed business ventures, rumor had it that Frank had been cut from the family gravy train by his father. But Frank bounced back because he secured a financial investment in his nightclub from Anthony Caputo, a notorious Jersey Mafia boss.

  About seven weeks ago, Darbo was partying with his friends, and he got so drunk that he harassed a cocktail waitress to the point that the girl fell and hit her head on the table, and she sustained brain damage from her injuries. Sabrina currently represented the woman who sued him in civil court. Her boss tried to serve the guy, but Frank was slicker than an eel when it came to avoiding the summons in person. Since the in-house private investigator was swamped, the unpleasant job fell into Arielle’s lap.

  Arielle wrote down Frank’s information, then she took the letter and placed it inside her purse. The guy owned a club about sixty blocks from her office in the Bowery, so no matter what time of day she went, it would be a trek. She would get a taxi this time and Sabrina could pay the fare. She didn’t care if Sabrina grumbled; this wasn’t her job to begin with.

  The afternoon traffic wasn’t as bad as before, but it still took her about thirty minutes to get to Frank’s club. Because Frank liked to consider his club “exclusive,” one couldn’t easily find its location. It was sandwiched between a hookah lounge and insurance agent’s office. Arielle checked her watch.

  It was 2:30pm.

  Sabrina’s client
informed the firm that Frank was usually at this club around this time. Arielle wondered whether she should barge in or wait and ambush him when he got out.

  It felt kind of risky just to barge in, since Frank associated with nasty individuals. So, Arielle decided to ambush the guy. She kept her eyes on the Ferrari that was parked in front of the club. She checked the plate number and it was a match with the information she had in the file. The Ferrari definitely belonged to Frank.

  Arielle spotted a Laundromat across the street, so she went there and sat on the bench inside the shop, waiting for Frank to come out. She waited for over an hour, but there was no sign of Frank and she found she was getting bored.

  Arielle bought a frozen cherry drink from the convenience store next door, and then went back to her stakeout. She checked her watch again.

  It was 3:45pm now.

  She was hungry, tired, and annoyed. She had a lot of work waiting at the office and Sabrina was wasting her time by making her do this job. It wasn’t as if she was getting paid extra for this. Sabrina just relished the concept of making Arielle miserable.

  It wasn’t long before her bladder was full from the drink, and she regretted her decision to drink that much liquid. She was pondering whether she should look for a bathroom or keep watching, and that was when she saw a squirrelly man that matched the description she had on Frank Darbo exiting the club. Arielle quickly sprinted outside, the envelope containing the summons was in her hand.

  The man remotely unlocked his Ferrari.

  “Frank Darbo!” Arielle shouted at him.

  The man glanced briefly in her direction, then ignored her. Before she could reach him, a bald man with a thick neck and giant muscles stepped into her path and blocked her.

  “Darbo!” Arielle called desperately.

  “What kind of business do you have with Mr. Darbo?” asked the bald man unkindly.

  “It’s private. Get out of my way.”

  “No. You’re the one who needs to go away.”

  Crap. It was Darbo’s bodyguard.

  Darbo’s Ferrari engine roared to life. The tires squealed as Darbo hit the gas pedal.

  Arielle watched with desperation as Darbo slipped away. She shoved the bodyguard away. “What the hell is the matter with you? Get off me or I’m calling the cops.”

  The man was built like a tank with a face like a Rottweiler. He was someone you wouldn’t want to mess with and her bravado diminished instantly.

  The bodyguard jabbed a finger at her. “Now you listen; you’re the nuisance here. Go ahead and call the cops. I’ll tell them that you came here to harass my boss.”

  “You think I’m afraid?” She was actually freaking terrified, but she wouldn’t show it to this bull of a man. He wasn’t the first person to threaten her today.

  “You should be,” the Bald Rottweiler glowered. “Now scram. The next time I see you—you’ll be very sorry.”

  “You can’t threaten me like that. This is public property.”

  “Lady, you had your last warning. Don’t try my patience.”

  Why do I need a law degree if I’m going to be doing this kind of work? Arielle lamented. This is useless.

  “Fine! One way or another, I’ll get to your boss,” she spat back. She knew it was an empty threat, but whatever. Licking her wounds of defeat, she retreated.

  She walked quickly in the other direction and fished her phone out from her purse. She dialed Sabrina. A sugary, annoying voice answered her.

  “Did you do it?” Sabrina asked.

  “I can’t. Can’t get past his bodyguard.”

  “Try again. Make sure he gets the summons today.”

  “You know, delivering summons’ isn’t my only job. I’ve got five open cases on my plate. Your cases, remember?”

  “Make this a priority. I’ll give you an extension.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m fucking serious. This is a big fat case and I want that big fat settlement. Now go and make it happen.” Sabrina hung up before Arielle could answer.

  Arielle wished she could reach into the phone and strangle her boss’ thin neck. That woman was seriously infuriating. She knew Sabrina did this kind of thing for kicks. Arielle had never wished bad on anyone before, but at this very moment, she hoped a grand piano would fall on top of Sabrina. No. A grand piano was too nice. A thousand angry monkeys sounded better. A thousand angry monkeys with rabies.

  Just when she was about to put her phone back into her pocket, it rang. It was Sabrina again.

  “Yes?” She didn’t feel like being nice. She had exceeded her pleasantry quota for the day.

  “I thought you’d like to know that Frank Darbo is going to be at a party in the Castlewhite hotel at eight. You might have better luck this time.”

  “Is it a private party?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how do you suppose I get in there?”

  “Improvise. I’ll see tomorrow.”

  Arielle seriously wanted to hurl her phone into a nearby lamp post. But she couldn’t afford a replacement if she did that. Swallowing her bitterness, Arielle marched back to the office, contemplating a new strategy.

  Chapter Three

  Trent didn’t feel like going out tonight, but his brother John thought it would be a good way to take his mind off his mysterious woman. Trent himself wasn’t big on partying. He preferred an intimate gathering with close friends and family. Since he had been sulking all evening, John had been bugging him to come. Trent agreed to tag along just to shut John up.

  The party was being held in a posh hotel on the Upper West Side. John had been invited by his friend who was a famous Broadway producer. The two had been talking about collaborating on a modern take of King Lear. John usually only produced rock albums; he had worked with two of the biggest names in the industry and had won several Grammys. After he finished recording a new group he believed was going to be big, John took a break, and was considering taking a detour from his usual creative endeavors.

  The party was in full swing when they arrived. New Yorkers loved theme parties, and the theme of this party was “Hell Frozen Over.” There was snow everywhere, but waitresses mingled around the guests in cute little devil costumes, while huge torches blazed in every corner. It was beautiful, but at the same time… unsettling.

  John grabbed two glasses and sipped one. “What do you think, Trent? It isn’t that bad, is it?”

  Trent wished he could muster the same enthusiasm. He sipped the drink that John handed him and grumbled unhappily.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Jesus. You’re a ray of sunshine, Trent. Did you know that?”

  “If all you wanted to do all night was make fun of me, we could have stayed at home.”

  “At least try and enjoy yourself. And look at those women. I think the brunette is taking a liking to you.” John switched into his usual flirty mode.

  But Trent wasn’t interested in checking out any brunette. Thoughts of his mysterious lady in black filled his head. Arielle Winter. He wondered what excuse he could use the next time he saw her. She wasn’t an attorney, so he couldn’t just go to her firm and make an appointment with her.

  He needed something natural. Something that wasn’t forced, like he accidentally bumped into her?

  Nah, too cheesy.

  Maybe he could just go to her office, bring her a bouquet of roses, and ask her out. Sometimes the old school methods were the best. Like his brother Quinn, for example. He pined over his mate for months and she was too oblivious to realize it.

  Not even five minutes into the party, he and John had attracted attention from most of the women there. John enjoyed the attention and flirted with every lady in the room. A gaggle of blondes had already flocked around them. Trent resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Here we go again. He wondered why John never got tired of the chase. He wasn’t big on making small talk, or pretending to give a shit about these women when he actu
ally didn’t.

  “John Alexander!”

  An elegantly dressed man in his fifties called to his brother with a theatrical flourish.

  “I’m so glad you made it! How nice of you to come.” The man was flanked by a pair of gorgeous blondes, one draped on each arm.

  What’s up with the blondes tonight? Trent thought. They’re everywhere.

  “I was afraid you might not make it.” The man eyed Trent appreciatively. “And who’s this handsome man? Don’t tell me; let me guess. You’re John’s little brother?”

  “Older,” Trent corrected.

  “My mistake! You look younger.” The man winked at John.

  Trent wasn’t accustomed to men flirting with him, but John didn’t seem bothered at all. Perhaps he was just used to it now. “Trent is a year older than me and my brother Quinn is three years older. He is the oldest.”

  “I know Quinn Alexander. He’s one of the nicest gentleman I’ve ever met. We were introduced at the mayor’s charity gala last month. I heard Quinn got engaged recently, and it was only a few days later than I received the invitation for the wedding. How about that? All the ladies in the city are heartbroken. One of the most eligible bachelors in New York had been taken.”

  This time, Trent felt like running toward a wall and ramming his head into it repeatedly until he died. He couldn’t stand this idle chatter.

  John only laughed. He seemed to be thriving in this environment.

  Trent cringed. Who would’ve known that his brother liked to gossip?

  Eyes twinkling, John drawled in his smoothest tone, “Sorry ladies, the only single Alexander left is me. Quinn is getting married and Trent here had his heart stolen today.”

  “What? No...” the blondes chorused their disappointment.

  “Who’s the lucky lady?”

  “Who is she?”

  “Tell us!”

  “Now, now my chickadees, no fighting. I believe you’ll find many eligible bachelors at the party tonight,” said the man dotingly.

  Trent wished he brought his gun. He would very much like to use it on himself right now.