The Bad Judgment Series: The Complete Series

by Leigh James

  “Nicole, you looked fine. You didn’t have any time to get ready. You’d slept here two nights in a row. David didn’t even give you any notice,” Mandy said.

  “I was there with our gorgeous client and I looked like Orange-ish Bargain Basement Barbie,” I wailed into my hands.

  “Well, it wasn’t a good look for you. But now you know. And at least your hair’s clean, now,” said Alexa, in what was meant to be an encouraging tone. “Look at the bright side. All you need to fix the problem is to go shopping. Like, definitely before the next hearing,” she said.

  I sniffled from behind my hands.

  “Okay, Slutty Barbie — that’s you, Mandy. And Bargain Basement Barbie — you already know who you are, Nicole. Time to stop your sniffling. Let’s get to this meeting with our hot client.”

  I stopped sniffling and huffily walked with them down the hall. “At least I don’t have to show my boobs at work to get attention here, unlike you two. No offense, Mandy,” I said. Mandy shrugged and flipped her hair over her shoulder, which was probably going to be her new hot-girl signature move. “My brain gets me all the attention I need.”

  Alexa snorted at me. “Um, your brain’s not as exciting as you like to think it is,” she said. “Remember that I went to Harvard,” she said, pointing to her chest. “And you went to Boston College,” she said, and pointed to mine. “And we all know that Harvard beats Boston College every single time.” She pointed from her chest to mine, and I had to ball my hands into fists to keep myself from smacking her. “So therefore,” she said, “it follows that my brain is more exciting than yours.”

  “Your logic is as flawed as your choice in eye makeup,” I said, glaring at her sparkly pink eyeshadow. “I may be Bargain Basement Barbie, but don’t forget that I grew up in Somerville and I can still kick your boarding-school ass.” Mandy laughed, obviously forgiving me for my comment about her boobs, and smiled at me: Don’t let her get under your skin, her look said, but that was easier said than done.

  “You’re Trust Fund Stripper Barbie,” I said to Alexa, as I pushed past her into the conference room. “Little Barbie who has it all, but still wants to take it all off.”

  Someone coughed and I looked up in horror. Broden Walker was sitting at the table, looking at me and laughing.

  “Wha,” I said, unable to complete a word, my mouth hanging open in horror. I thought I might pass out. The double-whammy of him hearing what I’d said and laying eyes on him again was almost too much for me to bear. I felt myself flush red, and I sat down heavily. Seeing him again literally knocked me on my ass.

  “Trust Fund Stripper Barbie?” he asked, still laughing. “Did I get that right?”

  I nodded. “I don’t remember my sister having that one,” he said, his voice friendlier, more relaxed than he looked. He was more haggard than he’d been that morning, the lines on his face making him look rugged, like he’d been through a lot.

  He had been through a lot.

  “Err…I didn’t know you had a sister,” I said, lamely. I could still feel myself blushing furiously so I focused on setting up my laptop, refusing to look up.

  “She’s a lot younger than me — closer to your age,” Walker said, in an easy manner. He was probably trying to make me comfortable, which was not going to happen. I just sat and tapped lamely at my keypad.

  Alexa snorted at my awkwardness. “Don’t mind Nicole,” she said to Walker, sailing down the table and setting up her computer perilously close to him. “She’s an introvert.”

  “I don’t mind Nicole at all,” Walker said, kindly, and I blushed even more furiously. I made myself look up and smile weakly at him, which was sadly becoming my signature move. He smiled back and I immediately looked back down, unable to stare directly into those brilliant blue eyes for longer than a moment. He had a perfectly symmetrical face, square jaw, some black afternoon stubble across his strong chin, and those massive shoulders. I could see his muscles straining against his lavender button-down shirt. He’d loosened his tie and thrown his suit coat over the back of his chair. I tried to keep my eyes on my monitor and not on those shoulders.

  He was too sexy for a conference room. I knew he was a CEO and probably lived in a conference room, but he really belonged on a beach with no shirt. With Minky Lucca. In a yellow bikini. Not a Giant Nerd on her way to a Giant Nerd Convention, I reminded myself.

  There was a long, awkward pause during which I scrutinized my laptop, sometimes looking up at Walker’s gorgeous face, and Alexa and Mandy just blatantly stared at him. Walker smiled at all of us indulgently, clearly used to having this effect on women, his fatigue not affecting his threshold for female attention. Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was probably more like a very long second, David Proctor came into the conference room, reams of paper with him, and a pen sticking out his mouth like a cigarette.

  He threw everything down onto the table, into a huge, messy pile. “Hello girls,” he said. “I see you’ve spent some time with Walker. Walker, these are the associates you met earlier. Mandy and Alexa. You remember Nicole from this morning.”

  “Of course,” Walker said, nodding at us, an amused glint in his eyes. I wondered what he actually thought about us — Trust Fund Stripper Barbie and her cohorts, myself included. But his amused look faded quickly, and Walker turned back to David. “Do you have any idea how long this is going to take?” he asked. Again, I noticed the lines on his face, the dark shadows forming beneath his eyes. “It’s been a long day. And if I remember the representation agreement I signed yesterday, I’m paying you by the hour. All of you.” He motioned around the table. But David wasn’t paying attention to his client; he was reading through a report he’d grabbed off his pile, his brow furrowed.

  “Probably just a couple more hours,” Mandy offered, kindly. If she was nervous speaking to Walker, her voice didn’t betray it. I watched as she smiled at him. She looked ridiculously pretty, and I started to think that I might not like her as much as I’d always thought. “David will probably take it easy on you, if you’re exhausted.”

  “David? Take it easy on me? I doubt it,” Walker said. David snorted in lieu of a response and rifled through the report. Clearly, he was not concerned about the balance accruing on Walker’s legal fees.

  “He’s had me in meetings since the hearing this morning. Making sure all of my property and money are properly located in various trusts. So that when I go to jail, it will be protected.” Walker sighed and stretched his hands out behind his head; I tried not to stare at his massive shoulders and thick black hair.

  “You mean if you go to jail,” I said, gently, remembering that I was here to be this man’s lawyer, not to be his groupie.

  “Marnie Edmonds is out to get me. You saw her,” Walker said. “David assured me that I need to expect the worst.” David snorted again and continued to otherwise ignore all of us. He was now settled in and reading another large document, pen sticking out of his mouth, largely oblivious to his surroundings.

  “David is very big on worst case scenarios,” Alexa said, beaming at Walker. He was studying Alexa’s face. I felt my stomach clench, again, and I vowed to have a long talk about professionalism with myself as soon as this meeting ended. Right after I clawed Alexa’s eyes out.

  “Hey wait — aren’t you Senator Blake’s daughter?” he asked.

  “That’d be me,” Alexa said, shrugging at him like an innocent schoolgirl. “We met at a Best of the City party a couple of years ago. But you’re so famous, I was sure you wouldn’t remember me,” she said. I was pretty sure that Alexa believed that all males would remember her, into perpetuity and beyond, but she was trying to be humble and appeal to him. It made me want to reach across the table and smack her.

  “I didn’t recognize you at first. Sorry,” he said, and the practiced smile was back. Sorry, Trust Fund Stripper Barbie. What color are your underwear? That’s what his smile said.

  My heart sank, watching them.

  “You kind of ha
ve a lot on your mind,” Alexa said, now sounding sexily sympathetic. I felt my hackles rise. Alexa could be prettier than me, richer than me, she could have better boobs — that was life. It was a mix of genetic coding and luck, and I could deal with that. But I hated liars. I loathed people who cheated to get ahead. And that’s what Alexa was doing with Broden Walker right now. Pretending to be nice and sympathetic when really, she was Mean-Spirited Trust Fund Stripper Barbie. I caught Mandy’s eye and Mandy shook her head: Typical Alexa. I rolled my eyes back at her and resumed looking at the file on my computer, willing my brain to start working, to start being productive.

  David Proctor put his document aside then and looked up. He jumped out of his seat almost immediately and started pacing, his hands in his pockets; a big bundle of too much energy now that he’d finished reading. He seemed like the type of man who could sit still only in short spurts, and I imagined he preferred those spurts when he had a nice glass of Scotch. “The arraignment’s going to take place tomorrow afternoon. That’s less than 24 hours from now, in case you’re all sleep-deprived and confused.” I sucked my breath in: Whoa, Walker could go to prison as early as tomorrow.

  “Now, an arraignment is a pretty straightforward procedure,” David said. He was explaining this as much to Walker as he was to the rest of us. “We’ll go to the federal courthouse, where we were this morning, and we’ll be seen in front of a magistrate judge. It’s basically an initial hearing. Your rights are going to be explained to you in more detail, Walker, but we’ll go through everything before that, so you’ll know what to expect.”

  “What can I expect?” Walker asked. “Are they going to hold me until the trial?” His jaw was set, tight, all traces of playfulness vanished.

  “The government will try to have you held,” David answered. “But I’m going to argue that you are in no way a flight risk. I’m going to ask for home detention pending trial. You’ll have to turn in your passport, of course. You’ll probably have to wear monitoring equipment and stay in your house. With a babysitter, or two.” Walker sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “You’ve got everything you need there though, right?” David asked, smiling sympathetically at him, trying to lessen the sting. “Gym? Air conditioning? A fully-stocked bar?”

  Walker looked at him. “You know the bar is fully stocked, David.” He sat there, contemplating the table, opening and closing his hands into fists. Now that I was looking at them, I noticed that his hands were enormous. You know what they say, I thought. Big hands, big... I refused to let myself finish the thought. I shivered and looked away. A hobby, I thought. Find a hobby!

  “I need to understand everything that’s happened, Walker. You need to give us an overview of the past three years, everything that’s happened with the Securities and Exchange Commission. I’m going to send Mandy over to Blue Securities to get your files — copies of securities filings, any government correspondence, tax records.

  “Mandy,” David said, looking at her, “they know you’re coming. Bring Andrew with you. They’ve already made most of the copies and there’s a ton of boxes. These files are pending a request for documentation, but the company has agreed to let us have them now. You’re going to need to show identification, so make sure you have it. Don’t talk to anyone there, except to be polite. Go ahead and have Linda get you a car.”

  Mandy nodded at him, packed up quickly, shot a warm smile Broden Walker’s way and scooted out. I looked up at Walker, who was resignedly looking at David. “I’m not going to get to go home anytime soon, am I?” he asked. He now sounded and looked completely exhausted, like contemplating the prospect of jail versus home imprisonment had finally gotten to him.

  “You can go home right now,” David said, and again, he smiled at him kindly. “But you have to take Nicole with you. Going forward, she’s your dedicated babysitter. And you have to start getting to know each other, because Nicole is going to be the firm’s first point of contact. She’s cheaper than me,” David said, shrugging.

  “And much more polite,” Walker said.

  “True,” David said. “Anyway — tonight, just take her through the basics — your background, the history of the company, more about what Blue Securities actually does.”

  My stomach plummeted for a number of reasons. First, because I was probably going to be having another late night, and I was already shaky and wired. Second, because I was going home with Broden Walker. Third, because I was going to hear his side of the story, or at least part of it, and I was curious beyond belief about that. There were other reasons, too, but I wouldn’t let myself think about them. My palms were sweating. I had to remember to be careful with my laptop, so my slippery palms didn’t drop it. I didn’t want to look like even more of a bumbling ass than I already did.

  Alexa stood up and started packing her things. “Where do you think you’re going?” David asked, watching her with detached, slightly amused interest.

  “Oh,” Alexa said, looking up at him like she hadn’t realized he was still there. “I assumed you wanted me to help Nicole.” I tried not to glare at her and held my breath, watching David.

  “No Alexa,” David said, and I was thrilled to hear him be firm with her. Walker sat back, watching the show with a mild, detached interest. “I would have said so, if that’s what I wanted. What I do want is for you to go to your office and pull every federal case you can find about each charge that’s being brought. And then I want you to write a memo about defenses against racketeering charges.” Alexa kept her face neutral, but I could almost see the anger and disappointment rolling off of her like a sinister cloud of perfume. David continued pleasantly. “I need the memo on my desk by tomorrow morning. Thank you.”

  “Yes, sir,” Alexa said, evenly, the disappointment simmering just below the surface. She still managed to smile sexily at Broden Walker, and then give me an extraordinarily filthy look, as she stalked out of the conference room.

  “That leaves you and me,” Broden Walker said, tiredly. “You might be the most expensive babysitter in the whole history of the world.”

  Using my signature move, I smiled at him weakly. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Chapter 5

  “Are you okay with this?” Broden Walker asked, as we were riding down the elevator.

  “Babysitting you?” I asked. “I babysat my two little brothers my whole life. And I can tell you’re definitely better behaved than they are,” I said, hoping it was true. There was a pause between us. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you’re coming to my house with me, and you seem shy,” he said. Walker smiled tiredly at me and leaned against the back of the elevator. The lines in his face went deep, and they deepened every time he smiled. My stomach flipped stupidly when I looked at his face.

  I made myself ignore my churning stomach and my face, which was starting to burn. I decided to be professional for the first time since I’d met my newest client. “Of course I’m fine, Mr. Walker. It’s nice of you to ask. But I’m not shy. I’m just serious,” I said, somewhat stiffly, forcing myself to smile back. He looked at me briefly, amused. “We have a lot of work to do,” I said, warming up to the topic. “I assume that you have notes and documents at your house, and that’s why David’s sending us there. I also understand that you’re tired. We can go to your house, you can get more comfortable and relax, and we can get through as much as you can handle tonight. We can take a break, get some sleep and get some more done tomorrow. I’m fine with that, as long as you are.”

  “You’re the boss,” he said, and there was a playful edge to his tone that felt dangerous to me. Dangerous because I lit up at it. I said nothing, blushing furiously, as the elevator continued its silent descent. I couldn’t tell if he was flirting with me or not, but it didn’t matter: I couldn’t let myself enjoy taking it personally. This was who Broden Walker was, every second of every day. He dated models and actresses and he was Boston’s top bachelor. I was just going to have to work around him, while not looking t
oo closely at his gorgeous face or sexy black hair, because they were extremely, irrevocably distracting.

  “Sir,” said the young security guard in the lobby, “they’re just bringing your car around now.”

  Walker nodded at him, and I would have expected the guard to ignore him and go back to texting on his phone — he was always texting on his phone, never making eye contact — but instead, he looked thrilled to be acknowledged. Walker looked at him as the valet pulled up in front of the glass building in a gorgeous, sleek, black BMW. “Take it for a spin around the block,” he said, and although the guard looked stunned, he accepted without missing a beat.

  “Cool,” he said, and jogged outside to the car.

  “Why’d you do that?” I asked.

  “If you guys are actually worth what I’m paying you, you’ll keep me out of jail. And if I stay out of jail, I’m probably going to be coming in here quite a bit,” he said. “I want to make friends with the people here, right? So they take care of me, and it’s pleasant when I come in.”

  I looked at him blankly and he sighed. “You’re not a car person, are you?” he asked.

  “I’m completely clueless about them,” I said.

  “People get excited about my car. That guy was drooling over it this morning when I came in. If I’m friendly with him, he’ll keep an eye on it for me. Plus, it’s just nice to share when you have stuff like that. They don’t make a lot of my model of BMW. So that kid’s probably never seen one before.” I nodded at him, mutely, surprised that he was so thoughtful. And how he made it sound so normal, like all hot billionaire-CEOs let young security guards test-drive their insanely expensive cars for fun.

  “You seem nice enough,” he said. “I’m sure you shared with the other kids in the sandbox.” He smiled at me and I sensed that he was trying to figure me out. I wasn’t ever in the sandbox, I wanted to tell him, because I was either studying or taking care of my family. And I didn’t have anything to share. But he didn’t need to know that.