by Holly Rayner
“I’m a biker too, actually” Sean said, his eyes bright. “I love the energy it gives me. It seems that several of my advisors think I’m a bit too ‘important’ to the company to be biking around. But the view of the city on your way in? You can’t beat it,” he said. “After spending so much time on the East Coast, I really appreciate this kind of environment.”
Charlotte nodded, wanting to tell him that she’d gone to Yale as well, that she’d seen him speak. But she yanked herself back, conscious of maintaining her professional distance. “Well. I suppose we should get started, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” Sean said, tapping a pen against his cheek. It still held that classic five o’clock shadow. He still spoke with the air of a man who didn’t quite know how attractive he was.
“All right. Well, let me see. I’d like to get a bit of background regarding your friendship with Evan Greene.”
“Sure.”
Charlotte attempted to make her voice articulate; she worked to seem presentable and confident. She rolled her pen over her notepad, jotting down notes. “When did you first meet Evan?”
“It was junior year,” Sean said. “Not long after I broke up with my girlfriend. Evan was smart, if a bit cocky, and we spent a lot of evenings and late nights talking. Not really about work or money; more about girls. About our personal philosophies. Things like that. When my ex moved out of our apartment, he moved in.”
Charlotte already knew much of this, but she treasured learning about it directly from him. She longed for his voice to weave into her ears long into the afternoon, perhaps into the night.
She looked at him intently. “And at any of these times, did you talk to him about InvestMe or your plans to launch Lawson Technologies?”
Sean shrugged. “Of course I did. I was speaking about it all the time. I stayed up late just fantasizing about what it could become. Not in the ‘I want to be famous’ way. No, I longed to be an innovator, to make a lasting impact on the tech world and to help fellow entrepreneurs. Evan was into that scene, sure, but his ideas were lackluster. I would toy around with them, telling him that he had good concepts, but only because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.” He smiled slightly, shaking his head. “He had this girlfriend—the woman who eventually became his wife. He spent a lot more time making out with her than coding with me.”
“And you worked a great deal on InvestMe in that apartment?” she asked.
“Pretty much exclusively, yeah.”
“Did Evan ever lean over your computer, pointing things out, suggesting changes—things of that nature?”
At this moment, Sean’s expression changed. He frowned, his dark eyebrows making slight creases in his otherwise flawless skin. “No. And—I have to ask, Charlotte. Did you happen to read over the rather detailed document I sent last week, regarding all of these questions?”
Charlotte’s face turned bright red. She felt like she’d driven directly into a nightmare of her own creation, that every moment of expectation she’d ever had throughout her life had led her here—to this timely death. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, her brain racing to find an answer.
Finally, she fumbled into her explanation. “I’m—I’m so sorry, Mr. Lawson. To be honest, I wasn’t meant to be here alone. I’m essentially the intern on this project, while my colleague—er—boss, Katrina Ellis, is meant to be in charge of your case. She’s read the documents.” Charlotte knew this was a lie, that Katrina was even less prepared than she. But still she yearned to make Ellis and Associates look as good as possible; if she went down, they all did.
Sean nodded, still looking at her with confused interest. “I see.”
“Anyway. Katrina called in with food poisoning this morning. I guess the new Indian place in Capitol Hill is a no-go.” She was breathless now, scrambling. “And so, my boss told me I was to do this alone. Unprepared. And wholly wasting your time. My sincerest apologies.”
The silence that followed this confession nearly destroyed her. She looked down at her hands, realizing that everything she’d ever worked for, everything she’d ever dreamed of, was crashing down around her. She’d been given the chance to meet the man she’d lusted after; she’d made a fool of herself, and there was a chance she would lose her job over it. Charlotte was mortified, biting at her tongue, watching the ticking clock on the wall. Outside, a siren wailed through the city center, and she had the fleeting wish of it being an ambulance, come to pick her up before she had a heart attack.
Sean finally spoke, breaking the silence. “Well. I suppose this meeting can’t go on a moment longer, then. I wanted to have an early lunch, anyway.” He began to gather his supplies, stacking his papers. “I hope Katrina gets well soon. And I’m sorry that you were put in this position, Charlotte. Truly, you know more about this case than most people, without educating yourself.”
Charlotte exhaled, realizing she’d been holding her breath, unsure if she was about to laugh or cry. “All right. Thank you for your time.”
She began to lift herself from her seat, ready to make the walk of shame out of his office, then something in her pocket shifted, and she remembered—with a mixture of hope and fear—that she still held the single link between them. The cufflink.
She slipped her slim fingers into the pocket, feeling the smooth chill of the metal.
“Before I go,” she began, her voice barely louder than a whisper, “I wanted to give you something. It’s something that belongs to you, and I’m sorry it took me so long to return it.” She lifted the cufflink into the air and watched as the sun glinted off of it. In the back of her mind, she said goodbye to it, this treasured token from her past.
Sean’s face changed instantly. He opened his palm and allowed her to drop the cufflink onto it. Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to lift her head to catch what his expression was.
She snagged her papers and her briefcase and swept herself into the hallway, feeling tears roll down her face, ruining her so carefully and hopefully applied makeup.
The secretary saw her when she exited the elevator, and Charlotte could have sworn she saw a small smirk creep across her face. The tears and the red cheeks had given Charlotte away, betraying her as someone who couldn’t handle the intensity of this industry, somebody who should probably just get into a different law field. Something easy, like divorce.
Charlotte found herself on the sidewalk in front of the Lawson Technologies building. She peered up toward the highest room, where she’d met with the CEO himself. She shoved her hand into her purse and called her best friend, already feeling tearful words bubbling to the surface.
“How did it go?” Chelsea asked. She’d answered after only a half ring.
“Can you meet me outside your office?” Charlotte asked, feeling choked. “I shouldn’t go back to the office right away; that meeting was meant to go for two hours.”
Chelsea’s tone changed immediately. “Okay. It’s okay. Let’s meet at that bagel place. You haven’t eaten, have you?”
“This is why I love you,” Charlotte said.
She raced down the street, grateful she’d found a lifeline. Her entire career might be over. She’d ruined her chances of working with the most important tech mogul of her generation. And, worst of all, she’d given him a token that revealed how much he meant to her, and how much she’d actually messed up.
***
Chelsea was already waiting for her outside of the bagel place. Her face broke into a sympathetic smile, and she wrapped her arms around her friend, holding Charlotte close. Charlotte allowed a single sob to escape from her mouth.
The girls ordered bagels with cream cheese and smoked salmon, voiding their minds of the worries of carbohydrates and diving into a nearby booth, bringing their faces close together and whispering.
“Okay so. What happened? Did he remember you?” Chelsea asked, her eyes large.
“Of course not,” Charlotte scoffed, swallowing a bite of her bagel. She blotted under her eyes with a napkin,
trying to remedy the mascara streaks. “Remember how I told you I had to take on all those other projects to help Katrina? Meaning, I couldn’t read over all the paperwork he’d sent over?”
Chelsea nodded. “Sure. Not that Katrina would ever prepare for anything.”
“Right. Exactly. And then, she calls in sick. And just like that, I’m forced into this meeting that I’m not prepared for, with the man of my dreams.” Charlotte sighed, and realized she’d lost her appetite. She shoved her bagel to the side, placing her cheeks in her hands. “And worst of all, I gave him the cufflink, and I bailed before I got to see his reaction.”
Chelsea tilted her head. “You brought it all the way there?”
“I’d already brought it with me across the States, Chelsea. I might as well have brought it along today. And now he knows how weirdly fascinated with him I am. Obsessed with someone who doesn’t even know I exist.”
Chelsea bit her lip. “I think it’s sweet. And if you explained the reason for being unprepared, I’m sure he understands. He’s probably been unprepared before, too; you have to remember he’s only human.”
“But I’ve never been unprepared,” Charlotte said. “I passed the bar with flying colors. I know he and I are so alike, but I didn’t prove myself or show him that. And now it’s over.”
The two friends sat like that for a while, Chelsea playing the role of therapist, helping to guide her friend from the depths of her sadness and self-doubt. She knew not to ask questions. She knew to keep her head above water. And she knew to box up Charlotte’s bagel for her, because she was definitely going to want it at 3 p.m.
“Listen. Don’t destroy yourself over this,” Chelsea told her as she walked her back to Ellis and Associates. “Things happen for a reason. And I wouldn’t drop all hope on this. Not yet.”
Charlotte kissed her friend on the cheek and snuck back into her office building, highly conscious of the people who passed her on their way out for lunch. She slipped into the elevator, thankful she hadn’t yet had to speak to anyone, and hoped she could get through the day without a single conversation, without a single explanation. Perhaps Sean had already called Ellis and Associates, explaining that he was going to go with a different firm. Perhaps it was already over, and she would return to her normal, ladder-climbing life.
Perhaps it didn’t matter any longer.
FIVE
Charlotte locked herself in her office for the afternoon, her mind spinning. Outside, she sensed that the usual schedule continued without her. She watched interns scan documents and play on their phones; she watched Lyle come back into the building and waddle into his personal office, holding a bag of fast food. She’d told him countless times to cut back on the sodium and saturated fat, but his continuous stress led him to drive-thru lunches, eaten on the hoof, and she understood his motives in that moment—carbs equaled comfort.
Her attention outside of her room didn’t last long. Today, Charlotte was hiding, diving into her massive workload and feeling her eyes dry out as she stared at the screen. She didn’t dare peek into the Sean Lawson file labelled “priority” in her email, even knowing that the casework she’d been given was important and wasn’t to be ignored. Her mind was a million miles away.
Of course, she knew she’d have to tell Lyle about what had occurred with Sean at some point. Throughout the afternoon, people came to her door, knocking and waiting for her to unlock it, peering through the one small gap in her blinds. Each time, Charlotte swept her phone to her ear, pretending to be on an important call, while mouthing “sorry” and shrugging apologetically. And each time, the intern, or whoever yearned to inquire about her meeting, nodded in understanding and mouthed that they’d come back later.
She couldn’t keep this up forever, she knew. But it would work until she cultivated some kind of plan of attack.
Around three-thirty, Charlotte was typing notes for one of her other cases, nibbling on the leftovers of her bagel. She turned her eyes to her office window and noted that Lyle was coming toward her, his walk determined. She lurched, shoving her phone to her ear in yet another fake phone call.
As Lyle reached her door, he peeked in through the gap in the blinds and gave her a steady, even wave.
“On the phone?” he mouthed.
She nodded, her eyes wide. “Sorry,” she mouthed. She felt moments away from vomiting.
As Lyle began to turn away from her, she leaned back in her chair, aching for the end of the day. Maybe she could leave, say she was sick. Maybe she could pull the food poisoning card, à la Katrina.
But as she leaned back, the phone actually began to ring, blaring in her ear. She jumped, and almost dropped it, nervous. Perhaps this was Lyle, catching her mid-lie. She took a sharp, fast inhale, pushed her shoulders back, and answered the call, her voice shaky. She couldn’t handle this lack of confidence.
“Hello. This is Charlotte Waters.”
“Charlotte. Hi. It’s Sean.”
Charlotte’s face snapped toward the window, where she caught a glimpse of Sean’s building, several blocks away. The afternoon sun was glinting upon it, emitting a warm orange across the glass panels.
“Sean—Sean Lawson?” she said. She felt she was imagining this. Perhaps this was a prank phone call, set up by Katrina.
“Yes. Sean Lawson, the salesman. Were you still interested in purchasing one of those prime-time television packages for your apartment? You have three days remaining with this sale. And let me tell you, an offer like this won’t come around for another fifty years.”
Charlotte paused, allowing the words to fall over her ears. And then, the man on the other line started to chuckle.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You sounded so surprised to hear my name. I couldn’t help myself.”
Charlotte’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets, bug-like. She tilted her head, her heart beating quickly at the sound of his voice. “You’re calling me? Why?” she asked. She didn’t respond to his joke; she felt too emotional, too shaken up. Sean didn’t sound angry; he didn’t sound as if he’d called to fire her. Rather—he sounded like a companion. Like a friend.
“Charlotte, I understand you were under a great deal of strain today. But you did what anyone of your caliber would have done—you tried to work with what you had. And I’m afraid I didn’t respond well to that; I get ‘hangry’ a little too easily. I jumped all over you for not being fully prepared—despite the circumstances, which were out of your control. And I wanted to apologize.”
“That’s quite all right,” Charlotte said, her voice just above a whisper. “Truly, it was unprofessional of me. I should have been upfront with you immediately. It won’t happen again.”
That’s right, she thought. Because you’re not his attorney. Katrina is.
“After all,” Charlotte went on, “Katrina will be well in a few days, and she’s far more prepared for your case. No further time will be wasted. I can guarantee that.” She spoke with certainty, attempting to take on her lawyer mentality. Inwardly, she was panicking. She’d assumed she wouldn’t hear his voice again in her life. And he’d actively searched out her number.
“I actually called about that, Charlotte,” he said then. “I wondered if you’d like to take on my case, yourself. Without Katrina.”
Charlotte stood up from her seat, lightning fast, onto quaking legs. She paused for long enough to cause Sean to laugh once more, a guttural, friendly laugh that made her smile.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go quiet like that,” Charlotte said, blushing. “I was just shocked. I mean. This morning—I was horrible. I had nothing to offer you.”
“I looked you up,” Sean said. “For obvious reasons. And I saw you graduated from Yale Law. You know that’s my alma mater, don’t you?”
She pondered this, wondering if he’d recognized the cufflink. It had been a strange gift, indeed. One cufflink, out of a set of two. Yet, why was he calling her, if he thought she was that kind of loon?”
“Sure,”
she said, pacing around her office. “I loved Yale. It was home.”
“I felt the same way,” he said, his voice going soft. “I also saw you graduated fifth in your class. Quite a feat, considering you specialized in tech law. Only the biggest nerds do that, don’t they?”
Charlotte grinned. “Biggest nerds? You’re one to talk, Mr. Lawson,” she said. She felt herself growing flirtatious, but she couldn’t allow these feelings to escalate through her—she needed to keep a clear head.
“Good point,” Sean affirmed. “But. I learned you’ve been clambering up the ranks at your firm, until you were passed over for promotion by none other than the owner’s daughter, and the very woman who was meant to represent me. Now, is that just a coincidence, I wonder?”
“Of course not,” Charlotte laughed. Her heart flipped.
“I’ve seen this kind of thing countless times over the years. The management believes they need to promote the daughter, the son, or whatever of the owner of the company. And people with real talent, that have put in real hard work, suffer because of it. Don’t you agree?”