London Undone

by Nan Higgins

  Thank you for your attention to this matter.

  Sincerely,

  Frederick Craft

  Sent via Larry Kopp, Attorney at Law

  “Are they fucking kidding with this?” London shook her head, read the letter a second time, then flung it toward the coffee table. It didn’t make it, fluttering to the floor beside Reggie’s feet. She felt like gathering every piece of paper from the offices of Larry Kopp and setting them on fire. Creating a blaze to match her anger seemed fitting. “This is…this is bribery! How can they do this, and through a lawyer?”

  “I don’t know,” Reggie said. “Have you talked to your lawyer about all of this yet?”

  “No, I haven’t.” In truth, it hadn’t even occurred to her. She had no intention of taking their money, so what would be the point in getting another lawyer involved?

  “I think you should. I don’t think your father has any concept of how successful you’ve become. He thinks he can continue to send these letters, essentially harassing you and the people who love you, because he doesn’t know you have any recourse. A scary letter from another attorney could go a long way. Besides, right now this is just an annoyance. A pretty major one, obviously—someone needs to teach your family about healthy boundaries—but nothing so crazy that you feel unsafe. Not yet. But we don’t want it to get to that point, and it wouldn’t hurt to let them know you’re not a sitting duck.”

  “I don’t think he’d actually do anything to hurt me.” Unless ignoring her for decades counted. She pushed that thought from her mind.

  “You’re probably right,” said Reggie. “Still, a paper trail showing an official response from another lawyer surely wouldn’t hurt.”

  “Okay. I’ll call Thomas tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  London was livid, absolutely furious at her father. Yet something Reggie said had made her heart jump with happiness. “So my father is harassing the people who love me. Can I assume that still means you?”

  Reggie placed her hand on London’s thigh, and maybe London imagined it, but she thought it rested a little higher this time. “You know I love you. That’s never changed. I don’t think it ever will.”

  London lifted her hand and lightly stroked Reggie’s cheek. “I love you too.” Her voice was hoarse. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “Mostly,” Reggie murmured. “Mostly, I do.” She leaned in, her hand moving unquestionably higher on London’s leg, her mouth brushing London’s cheek, her neck, and moving toward London’s lips.

  The loud opening chords of the chorus of “Turn Down for What” blasted at them, making them both jump and causing Reggie to jerk back to the far end of the couch. It took London a second to come out of her haze, and when she did, she picked up her cell phone from the coffee table and shut off the alarm. It was time to rinse her hair.

  “I should go.” Reggie grabbed the letter from the floor and handed it to London as she stood. “I figured you’d want this copy to give to Thomas. Tell him he can contact me if he has any questions.”

  “Are you sure you need to leave? Grant will be back soon, and we can open a bottle of wine and—”

  “I’m sure. As much as I’d like to stay, I think I need to go.”

  “If that’s what you want.” She didn’t do a good job concealing her disappointment. She wanted Reggie to stay, and she definitely wanted to see what might happen if they had time to get their mouths together. She longed to kiss Reggie, ached for her touch. It took a few moments to remove herself from those thoughts. She stood and walked Reggie toward the door. Once there, Reggie opened the door, closed it, and turned.

  “What is it?” London asked.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about marriage and whether it’s something I really need.”

  London inhaled sharply. “And?”

  “And I don’t know the answer yet.” Reggie raised her hand and slid the tips of her fingers down London’s cheek, a gesture that made goose bumps rise on the back of London’s neck. “But I’ll let you know as soon as I do.” She leaned forward and brushed her lips against London’s for a brief moment before turning to leave. London stood for several seconds, touching her fingers to her mouth.

  * * *

  Grant returned twenty minutes later with snacks and wine, which had given London just enough time to wash and towel-dry her now bluer hair. She grabbed one of his bags, and they went to the kitchen. She had to smile when he went directly for the bottle opener before getting anything out of the bags.

  “You’re a great friend,” she said.

  He handed her a glass filled to an obscene level with dark red wine. “Same to you.” He tapped her glass with his own and took a drink. “How did things go with Reg?”

  “Well, I assume she told you about the letter, and that’s what those spy movie voices were all about.”

  “I can’t believe the gall of your family.”

  “Sadly, I can.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Well, Reggie suggested going to my attorney, and I can’t believe I never even thought of that.”

  “Oh.” Grant set his glass down with a loud clank. “Are you going to try to set up a meeting?”

  “I figure I’ll call tomorrow to see what steps I should take.” He nodded, and a light went off in her mind. “Shit, Grant. Thomas. I didn’t even think about that. I’m turning into as much of a self-serving asshole as my dad and sister.”

  “You just have a lot going on. I get it.” Grant was responsible for connecting London to Thomas’s law firm; in fact, that was how Grant and Thomas met. Grant helped London research different legal firms to find the best one to help represent her with her business dealings once he realized she’d been winging it and hadn’t bothered to find representation.

  “You’re getting too big and important to keep using Legal Forms for Dummies as your only source of expertise,” he’d said, obviously flustered with her. “You’ve been lucky so far, but that can’t last forever.”

  “It’s not luck. I’m meticulous with those forms.”

  “I’m sure you are, but you’re not a lawyer.”

  “Lawyers,” she’d scoffed.

  “Hey!”

  “I don’t mean you. You’re not that kind. If you’re so concerned, why don’t you be my attorney?”

  “Because as you said, I’m not that kind. I deal with adoptions and foster care, guardian ad litem work. I could do it for you in a pinch, but you’re not in a pinch, and you should stop acting like you are.”

  Two days later, they’d had a meeting with Mr. Stein and his much younger associate, Thomas Wagner. For Thomas and Grant, the rest had been history.

  “Have you talked to Thomas?” She leaned on the kitchen counter and dipped a pretzel in some hummus.

  “Not since Tate’s funeral, and he left before I could talk to him alone.”

  “Do you want me to set up a meeting, and you can tag along?”

  He laughed. “Would you do that?”

  “Sure. What are friends for?”

  Grant paused. “No. Don’t try to set up a meeting. If he asks for one, great, and I’ll come with you. But don’t ask if he doesn’t offer; just see what he suggests when you call.”

  “Okay. May I ask why?”

  “I’m leaving things in the hands of fate.”

  She snorted. “Really? Fate hasn’t been very good to us lately.”

  “I know. Which means it’s about time for a change of heart.”

  * * *

  London hadn’t looked at the green construction paper, or even thought about it, in weeks. Now that Reggie had received this infuriating communication from Larry Kopp, it brought the list back to the front of London’s mind. After a few glasses of wine with Grant, she said good night and closed herself in her room.

  She opened the top drawer of her nightstand, grabbed the file, and pulled out the construction paper. As always, she stared, fascinated, at the list of items she’d felt, at ten years
old, were destined to make her life complete.

  She traced her fingers over number four, the one she had been glossing over since she’d first discovered the letter. Falling in love with a boy was out of the question, and maybe it was for that reason it didn’t bother her much. She and Tate had both dated boys when they were kids because that was what you did. In the time and place where she and Tate grew up, little girls dated little boys. She felt pretty confident that was how number three had ended up on the list.

  “Get married,” she said softly. Was that on the list for the same reason falling in love with a boy was? Because it was just what people did? “Maybe,” she said to herself. “Maybe not.”

  Being with Reggie tonight had caused a great ache in her. London wanted to tell her to come back home, to stop this foolishness because they belonged together. She hadn’t said any of those things because she knew that Reggie was doing her best to at least try to find a way to move forward together right now. She was thinking about whether she really needed marriage, and if Reggie could think about that, surely London could do some thinking of her own.

  Could she get married? It was a great question, a question that had been pushed further to the back of her mind with every new blow she’d been dealt. But she knew Reggie wouldn’t wait forever, even as patient as she was.

  She thought about the For Times Three game she and Tate used to play. If she were to play that game now and someone yelled Reggie’s name to her, she’d respond with, “Forever,” no question. She knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Reggie, so what was the big deal? Why was it so damn hard to say yes to promising forever to the only person she’d ever wanted to be with until death they did part?

  “Because I’m the girl who wanted to quit therapy every week,” she answered herself out loud. She lay down and buried her face in her down comforter. It was true. Even when something was good for her…and sometimes especially when it was, she always needed an escape route. Even when she knew she needed to go back, she couldn’t commit long-term.

  Ross’s normal policy had been to schedule one month of appointments in advance, getting four dates at a time on the books for each patient. London had forgotten that part until this moment. She’d become so panicked when she was new to therapy, and he tried to schedule four appointments, that Ross said, “Okay! That’s okay. Why don’t we just do one week at a time for you? When you get to the point where you feel comfortable scheduling further out, we’ll do that.”

  That had been five years ago. Had he simply given up on her ability to commit to long-term therapy? He’d never asked again.

  With a weary soul and no real answers, she eventually fell asleep in that position, curled up on top of her comforter, her hand resting on the letter.

  Chapter Eleven

  London woke the next morning feeling stiff and cold from sleeping in an odd position on top of her covers. Shivering, she fumbled around until she found her bathrobe, stumbled into the kitchen, and found Grant sitting at the counter eating Frosted Mini-Wheats.

  “How can you eat that stuff?” she asked. “It’s like somebody poured some sugar on twigs and formed them into little patties. It’s like eating a frosted bird’s nest.”

  “Good morning to you too. There’s coffee.”

  “Thanks.” She grabbed the biggest mug she could find, poured herself a cup, and sat on the stool beside him. “You’re up and ready early.” She noted that he was showered and dressed at a time when he normally would’ve been just waking up.

  “I woke up ready to greet the day.”

  She sipped her coffee. When she got about halfway, she said, “Oh, right. I’m calling Thomas today. That’s what you’re ready to greet.”

  He grinned. “Touché.”

  “I guess I better call, then. Just let me finish my coffee.”

  Several minutes later, she retrieved her phone from her nightstand where it charged and found Thomas’s work number in her contacts. She hit the call button, and Grant reached over to put the phone on speaker. She was surprised when Thomas answered.

  “Thomas! It’s London. I can’t believe you’re at work already; it’s barely after seven a.m.”

  “There’s not much rest for those who’ve been put on partnership track.”

  London glanced at Grant, and he looked as surprised as she was. “Wow, partner! Congratulations.”

  “Don’t congratulate me yet. I’m deep in the proving myself worthy part of it right now, with no end in sight.”

  “I’m sure you’ll make partner. You’re a great lawyer.”

  “Thanks. Spread that around, will ya? Anyway, enough about me. Are you calling me in an official capacity this morning?”

  “I am, actually.” She filled him in on what was happening as quickly as she could.

  When she finished, Thomas whistled. “I knew your family was a piece of work, but this is beyond my expectations.”

  “I know. They’re charming. What do you think I should do?”

  “The first thing I want you to do is send me copies of everything. Do you have access to a scanner?”

  “At Hell, yeah.”

  “Great. Scan everything and email it all to me. And forward anything you’ve received by email.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I can do that today.”

  “Excellent. Once I receive it all and look everything over, I’ll write a letter. Basically a cease and desist, calling them out on harassment and telling them we’ll be contacting authorities if they don’t cut it out. It will all be very terrifying.”

  “Sounds good.” She’d been taking notes, but when she looked up and saw Grant’s sad smile, she dropped her pen and rubbed his back. To Thomas, she said, “Where do we go from there?” She hoped he’d suggest a meeting to formulate a plan of action for Grant’s sake.

  “We just wait. If all goes the way I hope, we won’t have to do anything else. If they respond, we may have to file something in court. But we won’t know unless you receive anything else from them.”

  “I appreciate this, Thomas. Truly.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” he said. “You take care now, and call me if you have any other questions.”

  “Thank you. Bye.”

  “Good-bye.”

  London hit the end button and turned to Grant’s sullen face.

  “He knows I’m staying with you,” he said. “He didn’t say one word about me, like he didn’t even know my name.”

  “Looks like fate hasn’t changed her ways.”

  “That bitch. I’m done with her.”

  * * *

  London scanned the documents and sent them off to Thomas as soon as she got to Hell that morning. She also sent a quick email to Reggie letting her know about her conversation with him and telling her he might be in touch. He hadn’t said that, but she liked having a reason to reach out to Reg.

  Then she went over her designs for spring again. She’d be sending them out today, and while it was later than she’d hoped or expected, she was glad to be finishing up with them, and happy with how they turned out.

  She had enjoyed throwing herself into her work to keep her mind and heart occupied. What she did was so creatively fulfilling, it felt healing to her. She’d checked in with Ross on using her career as a coping tool to keep her preoccupied, and thankfully, he agreed it was fine as long as she continued to do emotional work in her downtime.

  It had been a productive morning, and London popped her head into the shop. Jasmine was chatting with some customers near the front of the store, and Diego was behind the cash register.

  “Diego!”

  He turned and gave her a smile that seemed to take up his entire face. “How are you?”

  “I’m hanging in there. How are you? Driving the girls crazy, I hear.”

  He laughed. “You can’t believe everything that comes out of the mouths of mothers. Especially mine.”

  “Your mother is one of the few I trust completely.” She couldn’t help smiling. Diego
had the same peaceful quality Jasmine had, the ability to put people at ease, the same easy smile. She couldn’t believe it’d been so long since she’d seen him.

  “I was really sorry to hear about Tate,” he said. “I wanted to be at the funeral, but with midterms and everything…” He shook his head. “I should have been there.”

  “It’s okay. Really.” She wondered if she’d ever stop having the sharp twinge of pain in her heart when anyone talked about Tate. Would it ever stop feeling like a fresh loss any time she heard his name?

  Jasmine said good-bye to the customers and joined them at the register. “You see how big and handsome he’s growing up?” She played with the dark scruff on his chin.

  Diego laughed. “Ma, come on! Hey, would you ladies like me to go pick up something for lunch?”

  “Actually,” London said, “why don’t you two go? I can hold things down around here while you’re gone.”

  “I don’t know.” Jasmine frowned. “I should stay. Diego can run out, and we can have a picnic in the back or something.”

  “Jas, I am perfectly capable of running the store for an hour or so while you’re gone. You do remember it was just me here for over a year before I could afford to hire anyone full-time.”

  “Yes, but that was a long time ago, and it was before—”

  “Stop it, I’m fine. Go on, now. Grab me a club sandwich from wherever you go or the closest thing they have to it.” She practically shooed them out of the store.

  As much as she loved Jasmine and appreciated everything she did, London was weary of being treated as if she was made of eggshells. Yes, she’d been through a lot, and yes, she was still struggling with the pain and shock of losing Tate, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t capable of running the business she’d spent years building.

  When they were gone, she stood in the middle of the room, surveying this odd kind of heaven she’d created and named Hell. She ran her hand over a faux fur pillow that said “It’s always a good time to question authority.” Who would have thought that these strange things she’d started out making for herself and wearing around town while she worked as a server or receptionist at a tattoo parlor would turn out to be both a deeply satisfying and surprisingly lucrative living? She was glad she’d sent Jasmine and Diego out. It had been quite some time since she’d been here alone. She reveled in the pride she always felt when she let herself take a moment to be still in this place.