Blindfolded Innocence

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Blindfolded Innocence Page 21

by Alessandra Torre


  "Look, Julia - De Luca came and talked to me yesterday. He said I could talk to you, or hang out, or whatever. It's cool."

  "So he gave you permission."

  "I guess. He just let me know that he shouldn't have said anything, and I can hang out with whoever I want."

  "How swell of him."

  He sat down in the chair across from me, and played with a lone paperclip that was lying there. "What's the deal with you two?"

  "What do you mean?" I said. I swore silently to myself. I should have realized that this would all seem really weird to Todd.

  "I mean, you act so pissed at him... and the way he warned me about you - are you seeing him or something?"

  I laughed harshly. My laugh sounded weird, not the casual way I had meant it to come out. "Todd, I've never even met the guy. Maybe once, in passing. I just hear all the stories and he sounds like an asshole."

  "De Luca? No, he's like the coolest guy ever!"

  "Well he sounds like a jerk. I just don't like anyone telling you what to do. Last night I was drunk, and overreacted. I'm sorry."

  "Yeah, you like wigged OUT. We were all wondering where you were headed, you had this death stare going."

  "I was just pissed about something else. I'm sorry. I swear, I'll be normal and sane next time."

  "Yeah, heard Broward's going to be out of town next week some." He looked down at the paperclip, which he had now twisted into something resembling a fortune cookie. "Maybe next week, you'd like to hang out or something?"

  Just what I need right now, more workplace drama. "I don't know Todd. I've heard they take interoffice dating really seriously."

  "Dating! No, I didn't mean dating." he laughed nervously. "I just meant, like hanging out. Watching a movie or something."

  "Sure, Todd. Something like that sounds good." I smiled at him and his whole face lit up.

  "Awesome! Really awesome. Okay, I'm, ah, gonna get back to the East Wing. We got a lot going on today."

  "Thanks for stopping by." I waved at him and he did the same, turning so fast he bumped into the doorframe. He blushed and ducked out, closing the door softly behind him. I groaned and returned to the brief I was proofreading. I don't know why, but it seemed my good girl days were gone, and all I knew how to do now was break the rules.

  ----

  Associated Press, June 27, 2012

  Estranged Wife gets almost half a Billion in Divorce Settlement

  Yesterday the gavel fell in what many will call the Divorce Settlement of the Decade. Martina Bennington, wife of oil tycoon Frank Bennington, was awarded a $420 MILLION dollar settlement after a 13-month trial. Mrs. Bennington was awarded the large purse in part due to her sole custody of Bennington's three children, but also due to her "substantial contribution" to his wealth accumulation. It is unknown how Mrs. Bennington who was living on a teacher's salary prior to marrying, had substantially contributed to Mr. Bennington's wealth. This is just another feather in the cap of Brad De Luca, Mrs. Bennington's divorce attorney. This is the third $100M+ settlement this year for Mr. De Luca, a fact he has avoided in interviews. "Mrs. Bennington requests privacy at this point in her life, but is satisfied with the terms of the settlement," De Luca stated, in a press conference after the hearing.

  Martina Bennington had been separated from her husband for the last 18 months of her marriage, and was rumored to be dating local businessman Richard Davis. The Bennington's were married a total of nine years.

  ----

  I didn't hear from Brad again after I hung up from him. The weekend passed uneventfully, me spending Saturday cleaning my room (oh joy), and Sunday working on photo scrapbooks with the girls. I wasn't really sure if Brad was mad at me, or if I was still supposed to be mad at him,. It had been a little childish of me to hang up on him, but I was fresh off Broward's admonishment, and seemed like the easiest thing to do. Monday was coming up, and I wondered if he still planned to take me to dinner. I also didn't know if I wanted to go. Well, I knew I wanted to go, but didn't know if I should go.

  You can only screw with your mind for so long before it will just up and quit on you, walking out the door holding her middle finger up. I think I was close to that point. I knew what I should do in the Brad department. It was so freaking obvious and easy. Stay away from him. Old Julia would have not hesitated; she would have walked down that path and not looked back. New Julia really really wanted to tell Old Julia to go to hell.

  ---

  Monday I listened for my office phone to ring, hoping for De Luca's call. It didn't come, and I worked till 10pm in my silent and lonely office. Broward stayed late also, and we worked in and out of the conference room, all of the mediation prep files laid out on the big conference table, us passing each other silently in the halls. At 7:30, I stuck my head in his office and asked if he wanted me to order dinner.

  "Yeah," he said, distracted by the document he was highlighting. "Have one of the couriers go get us something. Subs, if possible."

  "What kind do you want?"

  Silence, then "What?"

  "What kind of sub do you want?"

  "Oh. Uh, meatball on wheat. With provolone." I withdrew my head from his office and walked back to mine. I got on the phone and tracked down Jerome, our night security guard, the only person we had resembling a courier at that point in the night. I told him I'd call it in if he'd pick it up. I went ahead and got his order also, then called the local Jimmy Johns.

  At 8pm, 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 6 or 6:30. 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 12 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 are really excited about it. Claire is a stay at home mom and when the kids graduate, then me and her are really looking forward to some one-on-one time, a chance to get to know each other more." Something I would have thought you would have done during the first 12 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 nin
e. I worked at another firm - Daly & 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 are 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 contemptible tone just asked for a response, but I stayed far away from the low hanging fruit and took another bite of cheese steak. 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 twice 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 of 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. One, I don't think he displays the work ethic or ethical standards that I would like upheld by our office. But second, and I apologize for the language, six years ago 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 and 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, me having too many questions that were way too personal to ask, and him seeming to prefer brooding silence over chatter. Once we finished, I cleared our plates and we continued working, the sound 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 had about Brad should have been answered by this new information. Brad 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.

  CHAPTER 29

  Tuesday at 1pm my office line finally rang with De Luca's extension showing. I ignored it, letting voicemail pick up. He didn't leave a message. He called again at 3pm; again I ignored the phone. With Broward in Dallas, the workday was light, and at 4:45pm I started packing up, preparing to leave. I wandered by Sheila's desk, and spent the last 15 minutes of the day chatting up the older woman. She had warmed to me considerably over the last 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, tonight or tomorrow. To, ah, hang out."

  "Tomorrow would be better. 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 on the garage floor. 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 8?"

  "Sounds good Todd. Night."

  He gave a quick wave and spun on his heel, sauntering to his truck, a late-model Ford F150. 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 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 right by the elevators in one of the three "Reserved" spots. A brand new BMW 750Li, white, with a personalized tag: B D BEST. Nauseating. I strode over and dropped the crumpled pieces in Brad's open skylight, the pieces falling onto the driver's seat. What was really shocking was that the man was still at work at 5:15pm.

  I felt like I had accomplished something by the time I got into my car, and cranked up the radio as I backed up and pulled out of the garage. I had plenty to smile about. I was currently flush with cash, had made a decision with the Brad debacle, and had a date tomorrow 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 typically college date - a barely disguised excuse to hook up, a date with minimal expense and effort 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 now.

  I got home from work around 5:45pm, 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 was throwing caution to the wind. Brad had been a little too persuasive regarding casual sex, and if I took his teachings outside our non-existent 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. I had written down the address on an office post-it, and yanked out at least eight pieces of crap from my purse before I found the wrinkled square. I plugged the address into my maps app and saw that he was only a half-mile from my house. Translation - Todd lived in college crap too.

  Todd's address turned out to be a town home complex, located in an area at least two steps up in price from mine. I parked in a spot reserved for Apartment F and found the town home with little difficulty. About 10 seconds after I knocked, 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 of his front paws and trying to dodge his huge tongue.

  "Walker!" Todd yelled, grabbing his collar and pulling him off of me. He herded the large dog down a side hall and through a doorway, shutting it firmly behind the dog. There was whining and scratching, and he shot me an apologetic smile. "We have about five minutes ‘til 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 large Plasma. 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 - it looked like everything had been picked up or hidden just moments ago and nothing had been wiped down or vacuumed since. I looked at Todd. He looked clean. Really clean. He had on soft sweatpants and a short-sleeve 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 last 10 years of my life pining after.

 

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