Conflicted

by Missy Johnson

  I laugh and find myself loosening up. At least I’m not the only one intimidated by him.

  After a quick coffee, I go back and wait in his office. The last thing I want is to be told off for not being there when he returns, though I can imagine worse things than being reprimanded by him. I sit at his desk, waiting awkwardly, with still no clear idea of what he’s expecting me to do.

  Glancing around the office, I’m intrigued by the lack of personal things. No photos of family, nothing. All I see in every direction is work. He either works way too hard or he’s a very private person. In his field I can understand wanting his privacy, but his office is so cold it’s disconcerting. I pick up another book from his library and flick through it. Like all the others, it’s covered in a layer of dust that suggests it hasn’t been read in a while. I place it back and move along the bookcase. Spying a copy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, I pull it out and open it, amused to see something fiction in his collection. That’s a relief. I was beginning to think his idea of relaxing might be reading the phone book.

  Holy shit, it’s signed. Impressed, I run my finger over the soft imprint of the ink. Remember the key to life is living it. This gives me more of a look into his life than anything else in this room. I slide the book back into its place and walk back over to his desk. Sitting down, I run my finger over the wooden top and glance at the three closed drawers.

  My hand creeps towards the small metal handle on the top drawer. Not that I expect it to be open. My heart skips a beat when it slides out with ease. I pick up a piece of paper and study it. It’s a child’s drawing. I turn it over and search for a name, but I can’t find one. This is the first thing I’ve seen that makes him feel human.

  “Tell him I need it right away.”

  I jump, shoving the picture back in its place as I look up, the unexpected interruption scaring the hell out of me. Aaron marches in, oblivious to my presence. I quickly slide the drawer closed and stand up. My legs are like jelly as I swallow, surprised he can’t hear my pounding heart from across the room.

  “Sorry, that took much longer than I was expecting,” he announces, glancing at me. “I didn’t intend to be away all day on your first day.”

  “It’s fine,” I assure him. My voice croaks out, sounding like I’ve been chain-smoking cigarettes all day. “I spent most of the time reading over your notes anyway.”

  “And?” he asks, his attention now on me. He sits down on the chair where I was sitting only moments ago, and nods for me to do the same opposite him. “What do you think?”

  “From what I’ve read, I don’t think a jury is going to believe he wasn’t sane at the time of the murder.” I’m both nervous and excited to share my opinion. My earlier reservations over whether I can handle this career have all but gone. “Though he did mention regular use of drugs in the lead-up to the crime. I assume he was tested?”

  “Yes.” Aaron nods, a small smile playing on his lips. His dark eyes dance as he watches me, the intensity of his stare making my stomach flip. “What would your next move be?”

  “I couldn’t see anything in the notes about a psychiatric assessment. I think that would be my next step. And from there, decide what defence is likely to be more successful in front of a jury.” God, I hope I’m right.

  “Very good.” He nods. He sounds impressed, which gives me some confidence. “Would you like to sit in on the psych assessment? Obviously not in the room, but inside the observation room with me?”

  “I-I’d love that,” I stammer. He’s just described my dream date.

  “Great, then I’ll arrange it,” he replies, winking at me. “I have a feeling you and I are going to get on very well, Lacey. You’re intelligent and you’re willing to learn. They’re two very admirable traits,” he praises me.

  I smile, happy that he’s able to see how hard I’ve worked to get the results I have. It’s nice having my achievements acknowledged, especially by someone as successful as he is.

  My nerves are beginning to settle, and I’m even able to look at him without breaking out into a sweat, which is a big step forward. He still intimidates the hell out of me, but I force myself to come out of my shell and ask him things.

  By the end of the day I’m feeling much more relaxed and my self-belief has sky rocketed. It’s amazing what having someone who believes in you can do for your confidence. He makes me leave just after six, even though I’m not done reading through his file. He makes my day when he tells me to take it home with me. Just like a good book, I know I’ll be up half the night reading it.

  I’m exhausted by the time I get home. No sooner do I get through the door than I’m out of my skirt and fetching a pair of sweatpants from the dryer. Pulling them over my thighs, I walk over to the sofa and collapse, wondering if every day is going to be this tiring.

  Somewhere between sitting down and watching the news, I fall asleep. When I open my eyes, I’m confused as to where I am. It takes me a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I make out the shape of the TV and the sliding door and realize I’m on the sofa.

  Sitting up, I yawn, stretching my arms out behind my head. I fumble on the seat next to me for me phone and check the time. Wow. It’s after three in the morning. I’ve been asleep for hours. My neck aches so I gently rub it, trying to work out the kinks caused by three hours of sleeping crooked. It doesn’t do much, so I give up.

  My stomach rumbles. I get up and check the fridge to see what my options are. Apparently not much. I make a face as I toss a half-eaten apple and an out-of-date carton of milk. It’s Ariel’s turn to shop this week, so I leave her a note telling her to get it done tomorrow. My stomach rumbles louder, letting me know it’s not going to give up. I grab my keys and my jacket and march outside, headed towards the gas station a few blocks away. I should’ve woken Ariel and made her go. That would teach her for not shopping. I was forever doing the shopping for her and it was pissing me off.

  The supposedly twenty-four-hour gas station is unattended when I get there. I glance at the hastily scrawled note on the window, “be back in twenty minutes,” conveniently located directly below the “We never close!” sign.

  Sighing, I head back home. In typical Sydney weather, it’s fucking freezing and way too cold for me to wait it out. Back in the safety of home, I search the kitchen again and find nothing.

  I’m defeated. Sitting down, I get my phone and send Lucas a text because he’s the only person I know is probably still awake at this time.

  Me: The universe doesn’t want me to eat. Even the Twenty-Four Seven isn’t open.

  I click Send and toss the phone on the couch next to me. No sooner has it hit the seat than he’s calling me. A smile on my face, I pick it back up and press Answer.

  “Hello?” I say.

  “Three a.m. munchies? Should I be asking questions?” he teases.

  “I fell asleep when I got home from work and only just woke up,” I grumble, ignoring his joke. “And Ariel hasn’t done the shopping yet so I’m left with nothing to eat.”

  “You’re snappy when you’re hungry,” he chuckles. I hear the jingle of car keys in the background. “What do you want? I’ll bring it over. You have the choice of Burger Shack or Burger Shack.”

  “You’d do that for me?” I say, even though we both know that was the motivation behind my text. “A cheeseburger and fries should do me.”

  “I’ll see you soon,” he says, chuckling.

  I curl up on the couch in front of the TV while I wait for Lucas. This isn’t the first time he’s gone out of his way for me, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. When we were fourteen, he borrowed his gran’s car and drove an hour to visit me after my parents decided to send me away to a language camp for the summer. Yes, a language camp. After four weeks of intensive learning, I was insanely bored but fluent in Japanese. Lucas broke me out and we spend the whole night on the beach, eating junk food. It was the only way I was able to get through the last two weeks of that stupid camp.
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br />   Much to my relief, Lucas is fast. I hear him pulling up outside less than ten minutes later. I race outside and meet him as he climbs out of his car. He hands me my food and shakes his head.

  “Am I allowed to come in, or is this a case of you have your food so I can go now?” he asks, his tone dry.

  I give him the finger and then walk back inside, munching on my fries. He follows me inside and sits down on next to me on the couch, pulling my feet into his lap. I groan as he begins to rub them, the sensation almost orgasmic.

  “You look tired,” I observe.

  “Yeah, well, it’s nearly four in the morning. You know how well I sleep.”

  It’s true. He’s always awake. I have no idea how he functions. He runs his hand through his dark hair and I look away. Sometimes I feel like if I don’t catch myself, I could stare at him for hours. Everything about him amazes me—probably more than it should, considering our platonic relationship.

  Over the years I’ve memorized every little thing about him, to the point that when we’re talking on the phone, I can close my eyes and picture his face and know that when he’s laughing, the left side of his mouth lifts about an inch higher than the right, or that his jaw twitches when he’s angry or passionate about something.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me how my day went?” I say lightly.

  “Oh yeah. How did it go?” he asks, with about as much enthusiasm as he’d have about a trip to the dentist.

  “Really good. I think I’m going to learn a lot from him. You should see all the information I have on this case. It’s like my birthday come early.”

  “I’d rather not,” Lucas says, rolling his eyes. He reaches over and takes a big handful of my fries and I grunt in protest. “So, what’s he like?”

  “Aaron? He’s nice. Friendly and professional,” I say, distracted by trying to rescue the last fry from the bottom of the packet.

  “Huh. Just what you want in a boss, I guess,” Lucas mumbles.

  There’s an edge to Lucas’s voice and I can’t work out why, but I’m beginning to sense a pattern. Every time I mention the internship or Aaron, I get the same reaction. He’s never been jealous before, so I can’t work out why he would be now. Especially when there is nothing to be jealous about. It can’t be the job, because we’re studying two completely different fields. Not to mention the fact that Lucas is allergic to effort. He’d never apply for anything that required more than the minimum. He jumps to his feet so quickly that I jump, spilling my drink. I glare at him.

  “I better get back and try and get some sleep,” he says.

  “Because you have such a big day ahead?” I’m joking, but it comes out more scathing than I’d intended.

  Lucas raises his eyebrows.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  “Worry about yourself, Lace, and leave me to me,” he retorts.

  It’s a fair comment so I bite back my response. I hate that I sound like a nagging wife, but I can’t help myself. He has the potential to really get somewhere, and it shits me that he wastes that when others have to work so damn hard for it. Like me.

  But he’s right: what he does is none of my business because I’m not his wife.

  Or even his girlfriend.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lacey

  The first week flies by, and by the beginning of week two I’m feeling much more relaxed about everything. The workload is huge, and I’m finding myself spending half the night researching things for the next day, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.

  It’s Tuesday morning and I’m in Aaron’s office compiling some reports for the psychiatric assessment due to be held the following day when I look up and see my father standing in reception. I’ve been dodging my parents’ calls all week just in case they’ve found out about the internship. Apart from a couple of texts, we’ve had no contact for nearly a month. Not that that’s really that far out of the ordinary.

  Panic-stricken, I jump off my seat and dive behind the filing cabinet just in time for Aaron to walk in and witness it. He halts in the doorway and watches me, his eyebrows raised, an amused smirk on his face.

  “I, uh, dropped a file…” My voice trails off as he eyes the empty carpet next to me. Why couldn’t I have come up with a better lie? Fuck it. I’ll tell him the truth. I nod in the direction of reception. “That’s my father.”

  “Your father is William Anderson?” he asks. He lets out a low whistle, impressed. “Is there any particular reason you’re crouched behind my filing system?”

  My face heats. “We don’t exactly see eye to eye when it comes to my career choices. He doesn’t even know I’m working for you.”

  “You didn’t tell your parents?”

  “I tell my parents what they need to know,” I reply. “And this was something I didn’t think they needed to know.”

  “Because it’s not important to you?” His eyes glint. I know he’s trying to wind me up, and it’s working.

  “No, because I don’t want to have the conversation with them where they tell me how disappointed they are with me for ‘wasting my life,’” I practically snap. Could I sound any harsher? He’s only joking, Lace. “I’m sorry. It’s kind of a sore spot.”

  “Family relationships usually are,” he murmurs. He glances through his office window and then turns back to me. “You’re safe to come out now.”

  I get to my feet and straighten my skirt, aware that he is watching me. I can’t even imagine what he’s thinking, but I feel obliged to try and change the subject.

  “Do you have kids?” The question spills out, and as his face clouds over, I regret asking.

  “Yes, but like you, it’s complicated.” He turns his attention back to his laptop. You think that would make it clear for me that the conversation is over, but I’m nervous, and when I’m nervous, I babble.

  “How old?”

  He looks at me oddly.

  “Your kids,” I mumble. I want to turn and run from his office, but I’m glued to the spot. I can almost hear the stupid, invasive questions lining up in my head waiting for their chance to make a fool of me.

  “Your age,” he finally says. “Lacey, I’m sorry to cut this socializing hour short, but I needed to finish this brief half an hour ago.”

  I bow my head and quickly leave, cursing myself for what just happened. As if hiding from my father wasn’t bad enough, I can add crazy, nosy stalker to the list of adjectives he’d probably use to describe me.

  It’s just after lunch and I’ve finally gotten over what happened earlier when Aaron stalks into the room and over to my desk.

  “Get your jacket,” he orders. His loud, imposing voice makes me jump, and I feel like I’m about to be punished.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, threading my arms through my jacket, but he’s already half out the door. Hurrying, I grab my bag and follow him, finally catching up to him at the elevators.

  “The psych assessment just got pushed forward.”

  Oh.

  My heart pounds when I realize what that means.

  “We’re going to the Francis Centre?” I ask, naming the psychiatric unit where Fairgone is being held. The thought of being within arm’s reach of Duane Fairgone terrifies me, even if we do have a mirrored wall between us. But surprising even to myself is how excited I am by the exact same prospect.

  “We are,” Aaron confirms. His eyes twinkle as he sees the anxiety in my expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll be with you every step of the way, and you have a two-hour drive to prepare yourself.”

  His tactic works, because I’m no longer thinking about Duane. Now I’m wondering how the fuck I’m going to handle a two-hour car ride with Aaron Wilmot when I can’t seem to go a half hour without doing something to embarrass myself.

  We catch the elevator down to the basement parking lot and get into his silver BMW, which I don’t doubt cost more than I’ll earn in my first ten years of employment. I buckle up my belt, breathing in the musky, sweet scent that is a mix
of new car smell and Aaron. I breathe in again. It’s his shampoo. Or maybe his body wash. An image of him showering flashes into my head, causing my body to react in ways I wish it wouldn’t.

  “What are you thinking?”

  His voice cuts through my thoughts and I quickly turn to stare out the window so he can’t see the colour I’m sure is spreading over my cheeks.

  “Nothing,” I mumble. “I’m too nervous to think.”

  He lets out a low laugh. “You’ll be fine, Lacey. You’re not even meeting him today. Everything we do today will be completely observational.”

  His words put me at ease and I find myself relaxing. I glance at the clock; it’s nearly eleven.

  “What time is the assessment?” I ask.

  “One. It should only go for an hour. I’ll have you back home before five.” He leans forward and flicks the radio on. “Any requests?” he asks.

  I shake my head. I’ll listen to anything, besides metal and country, and I can’t see Aaron being into either of those things.

  The more into the drive we get, the more relaxed I become. At one point I find myself singing along to a Foo Fighters song. I quickly shut up when I realize what I’m doing.

  “Don’t stop on my account,” Aaron chuckles.

  “Sorry,” I mutter. I wince and look out the window so he can’t see my telltale blush.

  “Don’t be,” he replies. “It’s cute.”

  Cute? I cringe as he continues to chuckle away.

  “You’re an interesting girl, Lacey.”

  “Just what every woman wants to be called,” I quip. I don’t add that “girl” makes me feel like I’m five and not the twenty-two-year-old I actually am.

  “Interesting is a good thing. People get bored of normal.”

  “Compared to my friends, I’m as boring as it gets.”