by Ines Saint
He raised an eyebrow and bumped his leg against hers. “Now I’m intrigued. Anything I tell you, you’ve probably seen a version of on TV, but your stories will be new to me. How about you start?”
After considering it for a moment, she agreed. “I’ll start with my third most-bizarre request,” she said and shifted to face him. “The CEO of a certain well-known Midwest retail chain wanted us to build his office in the center of the second floor of their three-story building, and he wanted the floor, ceiling, and walls to be made of one-sided mirrors so he could look out and see almost everything, but nobody could see him. And he also wanted a toilet and sink in the office.”
Josh felt his eyes widen as he took that in. An image formed in his head. “I can’t imagine you were able to comply.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Not when it came to the floor and ceiling, but we were able to satisfy his other requests. He ended up being the most paranoid individual anyone of us had ever worked with, though, and the contract was a nightmare from start to finish.”
Josh asked a few more questions, interested to know what the nightmare was like. When it was his turn to share, he searched his mind for his third-most fascinating case. That way, they’d each have two more stories to trade and they could talk a while longer.
The awareness remained between them, but there was no trace of the awkwardness now that they were having fun. He decided not to make too much of the undercurrent. She was appealing on many levels, and he deemed it natural that he’d be conscious of it. And it was possible she was merely reacting to the attraction she sensed from him. He was glad she didn’t shy away from him over it, though. It meant she trusted him to some extent.
* * *
Hours later, long after Josh had left, Gracie couldn’t find peace. Against her better judgment, she opened one eye and took a peek at the digital clock on the dresser. It was long past midnight. Reading, warm milk, breathing exercises, counting sheep . . . she’d tried them all. But adrenaline kept shooting through her body, making her thoughts race, her pulse speed up, and her breath hurt.
Some of the thoughts were pleasant, like when she’d relived the way Josh had looked at her, as if she was as interesting and funny and clever to him as he was to her. Only an important phone call from Helen Sacket had pulled him away, and when he’d left, it was as if he still wasn’t ready to go. But when she remembered the reason Josh had come over in the first place, her stomach would roil.
Taking a deep breath, Gracie threw off the covers, grabbed the quilt, and dragged it to a chair by the window. Outside, a yellow streetlight shone down on a bench overlooking the river. It was a lonely sight, and it calmed her. She again focused on her breathing, this time with her eyes fixed on the bench, imagining she was sitting on it, looking out into the river, ignoring the spotlight above.
Spotlight. Now there was a thought. One that filled her with dread. She’d meant it when she’d said Josh couldn’t drop out of the race. Everything in her rebelled powerfully at the idea of having someone out there using her to pull the strings of someone else’s life. But she also knew what it could mean for her if comments kept popping up and enough people decided to look into it. That was the thought self-preservation kept pushing away. What would happen if she made news again? Her breathing picked up again, but she forced herself to confront the possibility. To prepare herself.
The spotlight would be on her once more. She’d feel exposed.
As if she was standing naked in front of Brad again, seeing the hostile triumph in his eyes while feeling weak and stupid in her own.
As if she was once again allowing his touch, knowing it didn’t feel right.
As if she was again watching the crowd of boys standing around, laughing and high-fiving Brad, and finding out they’d just seen a recording she hadn’t known existed.
Gracie let the tears fall. The words slut and trailer trash echoed in her mind, in the voice of the most popular girl in school. The feeling of being powerless to stop it filled her.
She rocked back and forth a few times. As painful as it was, she knew she needed to confront all of it. How would she handle being exposed again? Could she handle it at all? It might not have made sense, it might have been too harsh, but she forced herself to picture Diane and all her coworkers looking at her naked, seventeen-year-old self. The thought hurt. It was humiliating. The idea of the men in her office looking at her the way Brad had and the women judging her. What would she do?
Gracie stopped rocking. Her breathing slowed. Diane already knew. She’d always known and she’d been sympathetic. Her coworkers were adults, not teenagers. Their reactions would be their issue, not hers. All she could do was refuse to allow it to continue to dictate her personal life.
Easier said than done, she knew. But it was the only way. If she could take one step, right now, it would be a start. Gracie looked at the clock one more time and then settled her gaze on the closet door, steeling herself. Everything she needed for a first step was right there, in the secret stash in her closet. All she needed to do was choose which step she wanted to complete first.
And it seemed she knew, in her heart of hearts, exactly what she wanted to do.
Gracie opened the door and looked over at apartment 1B. She’d need help and Hope, who functioned on less sleep than most humans, was probably still up. A sliver of blue light flickered under the door. Hope, probably working while watching TV. If she knocked on the door and asked for her sister’s help, there would be no going back. Gracie sprinted across the hallway and knocked.
Chapter 7
When Josh got to his office the next morning, Rachel and her fiancée, Craig, were waiting for him. Rachel looked weary and Craig was wearing a deep frown. Josh shook Craig’s hand and nodded to Rachel. A regular greeting seemed out of place given the looks on their faces. “What brings you here?” he asked, leaning on his desk.
Rachel blew out a breath and handed him a piece of paper. Josh quickly scanned it.
Your mom’s 1982 conviction for illegal possession of controlled substances and illegal processing of drug documents might hurt your campaign. It could be dug up and used against you. That would be a shame. Your mother has worked hard to put it past her.
Josh read it twice before locking eyes with Rachel. He hadn’t known about her mother’s conviction. The fact that she was sharing this with him and the look in her eyes told him she was trusting him with the information, not accusing him of anything. “It looks like someone wants us both out of the race and they’ve had to either lie or dig real deep to find things they think can be used against us,” he said.
Craig leaned forward. “That would seem to point to Bosco’s people, but who knows? You and Rachel have both racked up quite a few enemies.”
Josh nodded in agreement before handing the piece of paper back to Rachel. “When did you get this? Where did it arrive?”
Rachel took the paper and folded it evenly. “Yesterday’s mail. My house.”
“It had a stamp?” he asked. He knew Rachel had security cameras at her house and would have checked footage if it had arrived without one.
Rachel nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. And whoever wrote it is slick. It’s not a threat. It can even be interpreted as concern. Sorry to bring it up, but it’s like the comments about you in the newspaper.”
He rubbed his neck. “No. You’re right. There are no accusations—only suggestions to look into certain aspects of my past.”
Craig got up and stood behind Rachel’s chair. “Rachel says we can’t look into anything because there’s nothing to look in to. It’s exasperating.”
Josh straightened and made his way around the desk, wondering how he should phrase his next question. They were co-workers, but they were also competitors, and he didn’t want her misinterpreting his concern. “Have you told your mom?” he finally asked.
Rachel gave him a plaintive look. “Yes. And we had already talked about the possibility of her past coming up during the campaign. She’s o
kay with it, Josh. It all took place two years before I was born. She was a nurse, she suffered from severe back pain, and she became addicted to opiates. In 1982 she was caught forging prescriptions. She lost her job and her license, did her time, went to rehab, and got clean. It still pains her, but she’s proud of how far she’s come. The only thing that distresses her is that her past actions could hurt me.”
“That’s what gets to me. It’s like the punishment for Rachel’s mom never ends, not even thirty-six years after the fact,” Craig added.
Josh nodded in understanding. He was sorry Rachel’s mom was hurting, but he was glad she wasn’t backing down. As Gracie had said, they shouldn’t win.
Whoever they were . . .
Rachel and Craig left, and Josh tried to get back to work, but it was difficult to focus on his cases or paperwork when he knew Gracie was in the building. She would be relieved to know the comments were definitely about the election and not about her. The only problem was that he had no clue where she was, and he had too much on his plate to go looking all over the building. If only he’d gotten her telephone number yesterday, he could at least send her a text.
Finally, he threw down his pen and went to find her. If she was alone, he’d grab a minute to talk. A walk and a break would do him good. Fifteen minutes later he found her, but his reaction to seeing her made him want to turn around and walk straight back to his office.
There were now rose-colored locks running through her wavy, pale blond hair. His heart lifted. There was something refreshing about it . . . She reminded him of a time when he could pick out a crayon and color the world any way he wanted.
Her eyes met his, then, and her smile widened. God, she was pretty. He put up a finger, signaling he needed a moment of her time, but he didn’t smile back. She excused herself and walked up to him. Her sky-blue eyes looked up expectantly from behind teal-framed glasses. Yesterday her glasses had been purple. The day before they’d been red. Until that moment he hadn’t even noticed he’d noticed.
“Hey,” he said, working to sound detached. “I just wanted to tell you that it looks like the comments weren’t about hurting you. They were about the election.” He hesitated before looking into her eyes. “And I’ve told you how sorry I am that you’ve been dragged into it.”
Gracie’s single nod was forthright and accepting. His nod indicated he was done. And yet they both stood there. His gaze swept over her hair once more and before he could find cause to regret his words and wishes, he spoke. “Would you tour the manor with me tonight to give me ideas? I’d like a little bit of this,” he smiled and gestured to her hair, “in there.”
Gracie looked up, and in her eyes he caught a mix of pride and pleasure. “Yes. I’d like that.”
“I’m having dinner with my parents first, but I should be out of their house by seven-thirty. How about we meet in front of your house at eight?”
A slight shadow crossed her face when he mentioned his parents, but it soon disappeared. “That sounds like a plan. I’ll see you at eight,” she said before giving him a slight wave and leaving.
* * *
That evening Josh turned onto his parents’ street, took one look at their house, and braked to a hard stop. Seven expensive cars were parallel parked on the right side of the long, extra-wide driveway. The stately Georgian brick house was lit up, and he could see a small group of people gathered in the large living room to the left of the front door. To the right, a bright, teardrop chandelier shone down on the formal dining room table. Dinner for sixteen.
Up until about two months before, dinner at his parents’ had mostly been a silent affair. Mark and Catherine Goodwin were disappointed to the point of despair over their only son’s continuing refusal to join his father’s law firm. And Josh had become frustrated to the point of exasperation with his parents’ inability to recognize that what he did was worthy. At some point they’d all stopped trying to make one another understand. As a result, their monthly dinners had become more of a forced family ritual than an agreeable experience, but they continued to take place because they were family, they still cared, and that meant they had to make time for one another.
The tone and tenor of their dinners had changed the moment Josh told his parents he was running for county prosecutor. Suddenly they had a whole lot to say. Pride over their only son’s career fueled new, enthusiastic conversations. It had taken Josh by surprise, but he’d made a conscious decision not to harbor any hard feelings over it. If he’d learned anything throughout his career, it was that resentment was a destructive force.
He was rethinking the lesson, though. Maybe resentment could be healthy, too. It could make you angry enough to ditch your parents and treat them the way they deserved to be treated. He could clearly see what the surprise dinner party was all about. His parents hadn’t been able to show him off in years....
That thought took hold, and as he let it sink in, his tight grip on the steering wheel began to relax. Yes, his parents could be shallow, narrow-minded, and money-oriented. But they were also dedicated and loving parents who’d modeled working hard and taking responsibility for one’s life and choices.
And he didn’t know where he’d be if he’d grown up any other way.
It was easy for him to eschew money considerations and pursue his passion when he had zero student loans and a sizeable trust fund he’d done nothing to deserve except being born to the good life. Forgetting that was about as shallow and narrow-minded as one could get. The bitterness he felt turned inward and made him lose his appetite. Still, he knew he had no choice but to hit the gas pedal and park behind the others.
The first person he saw when he stepped through the door was the second surprise of the evening. Linda, his ex-fiancée, turned to look at the door just as he walked in. They’d run into each other a few times over the years, but they rarely acknowledged each other. She was pregnant, though, and it didn’t seem right to be rude to someone carrying a baby. Their eyes met then, and she smiled. It was difficult to ignore the hidden meaning behind that particular smile. It was the one she flashed when she knew she’d been wrong about something, didn’t want to admit it, and preferred everyone just accept that she was sorry without her having to say it so they could all move on. But what was she sorry about? The rumors she’d spread? That she’d thought he’d amount to nothing if he didn’t join his dad’s successful firm? Or was she apologizing for being there? He had no clue, but, pregnant or not, he wouldn’t smile back. He’d simply spare her his incredulous look, the one he saved for overreaching defense attorneys.
His mother hadn’t forgiven Linda for the rumors. The only reason he could think of for her being there was that Linda was married to William Konitz, Jr., a star in the criminal defense field, and that she was a cohost on a local morning lifestyle show. If his parents wanted to help him raise funds, Linda and William lent a little star power.
Still, even though nine years had passed, she had some gall to accept an invitation to his parents’ house after the appalling rumor she’d started. Josh had forgiven a lot of things of a lot of people, but that one was tough. Kicking Gracie when she was down, and questioning his motives for defending her, had been particularly nasty.
“Josh! There you are. The man of the hour. Are you surprised?” His father came up to him, draped an arm around his son’s shoulders, and turned him toward the others.
“Oh, he’s here? You were supposed to be on the lookout and tell me!” His mom came up to kiss him on the cheek, and everyone took turns saying hello.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” his mom said with a laugh. “We know you’ll need all the support you can get in the upcoming months, so we invited a group of old friends who are absolutely thrilled to back you.”
The bottom dropped out of Josh’s stomach. Back him. As in donate to his campaign. Without moving or saying a word, he mentally reviewed the faces he’d just greeted and realized they were all among his parents’ wealthiest friends and they were all atto
rneys and their spouses—a few of whom were also attorneys. A few of them were wonderful people, but some of them he didn’t trust. Those like Konitz, who had little to no scruples.
A few people stepped up and started to tell him how happy they’d be to support him. His mom pushed a wineglass into his hand. Josh smiled and mingled and waited for an opening. He didn’t want to embarrass his parents, but he wouldn’t be accepting donations from anybody at the dinner party.
Finally, someone said, “I have a few friends I know would be happy to back you. We should plan a fund-raiser at our house, too.” A few others made similar offers. And there it was. His opening.
Josh smiled. “I appreciate everyone’s good wishes, but actually, the best way to support me is to spread the word that our campaign has opted to decline donations from attorneys. While we know it’s perfectly legal—and I personally know most of you won’t even try cases that come my way—a lot of people in the general public don’t understand how it all works. If I win, I don’t want anyone wondering if donations will affect the outcome of a court case later on, or if I’ll grant special treatment to clients of attorneys who donated to my campaign.”
The silence was immediate. His mom’s eyes compelled him to stop. Stop what, he didn’t know. Stop embarrassing her? Stop being himself?
His father once again walked up to him and draped his arm around his shoulders, making it look as if they were facing everyone together, like a team. “Josh has always wanted to do the noble thing, as I know most of you remember. Ever since he was little.” Everyone laughed albeit awkwardly. His father then turned to look at Josh directly. “But all of us here have donated to prosecutors’ and judges’ campaigns in the past, either because we agreed with the candidate’s political ideology or because we believed the person to be fair and competent. It’s perfectly ethical. Nobody here wants to influence anyone.”