by London Casey
“Done.”
“You’re the best.”
“Your other meeting was supposed to be with Donnelly. But, yeah…”
“Oh well,” I said. “Johnny and the big wigs will figure that out. I did what I could for him. He wanted a guilty charge as far as I’m concerned. He did nothing to save himself during the entire process.”
“There’s one more thing,” Leslie said. She bit her lip.
“What?”
“You have another meeting.”
“When?” I asked. I looked at the giant calendar on my desk. Did I miss something? Did I forget something?
“Uh, Willow,” Leslie said. “Johnny called from upstairs.”
“He’s upstairs?” I asked.
“Yeah. They want to talk to you.”
“They called and I wasn’t here?”
Leslie nodded.
“Damn,” I whispered. “I was running late. I had, uh, you know…” I touched my hair. I pointed to my boobs. I had nothing.
“It doesn’t matter to me,” Leslie said. “I told them you were in traffic but on your way.”
I stood up. “Thank you. Okay.” I grabbed a stack of folders. “Take these for me. You can stay here in my office. I need these emails to be organized in chronological order. I’m trying to put together a defense for these two doctors bickering over a side business that collapsed. I’m tracking down their original agreements, but for now, these emails help to show communication and what was paid, when and why.”
“Sure,” Leslie said.
“Hey, how do you take your coffee?”
“Me? Cream, two sugars.”
“Just like me,” I said.
“Yeah, I guess.”
I grabbed my coffee and handed it to Leslie. “Enjoy.”
I hurried out of the office and made a quick detour to the women’s room. I checked my hair, earrings (to make sure I had a matching pair… don’t ask), and made sure I looked presentable.
I didn’t bother opening the top button on my shirt either. It didn’t matter.
I was going upstairs for one reason.
I was going to be fired.
(Roman)
“Motherfucker. You fucking piece of… just… fuck. Okay? Fuck. That’s all I’ve got. Fuck. That’s my favorite word. I just want to grab you by the neck, right? I want to fucking squeeze until your face turns red. No. Fucking purple. Like a grape. And then I want to slam you against a wall. Over and over. Watch your head smash against the wall. Then, just before you’re about to collapse, I’ll stop. I’ll stop, right? Just to see what you would say. Maybe you need a few more hits to your fucking head, Roman. Smarten your ass up.”
Mackey paced back and forth behind his desk. The looser his tie got the more pissed off he was. How mad was he? The tie was off and on his desk. I had never seen him do that before. He curled his fingers and stared at me, wincing and making hand gestures. He was seriously thinking about choking me.
Not that he could.
Even if I let him, he couldn’t grip me and take me back to a wall.
I leaned forward and opened a small wooden box on his desk. I took out a cigarette and held it out to him.
“Have one,” I said. “Before your heart explodes.”
“I quit a year ago, you son of a bitch. This is the closest I’ve come to starting again.”
I nodded. “Go ahead. I won’t tell.”
“Fuck off, Roman.”
Mackey put the cigarette back in the box. He then crashed down to his chair and sighed.
“I’m going to handle it,” I said. “I always do.”
“Roman. You beat up a fan. The guy had a fucking Dragons hat. Just think of that image. You don’t just have the law on your ass right now. Or this guy if he decides to press charges. You have the entire league now. The Commissioner is driving me fucking nuts right now. Not to mention the owner of the Dragons. His entire family…”
“They’re all greedy pigs,” I said. “I make them money.”
“You’re lucky they’re in Paris right now.”
“Oui,” I said with a grin.
“You’re a fucking asshole, Roman.”
“Hey. That guy started with me. I handled it. There’s no proof of anything.”
Mackey took another breath. “The Commissioner made it very clear to me that if this was during the season you would be suspended. Pulled off the field. From the game. From the team.”
“Good thing it’s the offseason,” I said.
Mackey slammed his fist down. “That doesn’t make it right. Fuck, Roman.”
“What else did he say?”
“He’s not sure what he’s going to do yet,” Mackey said. “Could be a fine. A program for drinking.”
“Fuck that,” I said. “That wasn’t a booze thing. That was an asshole thing.”
“Well they don’t have programs for assholes,” Mackey said.
I gritted my teeth. “Yeah, right.”
“He might suspend you for the preseason. Maybe a game or two.”
“Then we appeal it. Anything he does. Fuck him.”
“He can destroy you,” Mackey said.
That was enough for me. I jumped up put my hands to the desk. “Don’t threaten me, Mackey. Nobody destroys me.”
I hated when people said that shit to me. That’s what the old man used to preach before he found his weapon of choice for the night.
Mackey put his hands up. “Okay. Hey. Calm down.”
The rage filled my body head to toe. “I’m going to go settle this thing right now. I’m going to the bar to talk to the owner. Show good faith in the mess. Report that to the fucking Commissioner. Then I’m going to the Dragons practice facility to hit the weights and throw some balls.”
“It’s the offseason,” Mackey said.
“Yeah. And while three quarters of the league are on an island getting their balls played with, I’m going to the field to throw that same pass over and over until I perfect it. Because that’s what I fucking do, Mackey. I don’t back down from anything.”
The color left Mackey’s face.
I guess I had made my point.
I grabbed my leather jacket and stood there for a few more seconds.
“By the way, my father has cancer. He’s going to be dead soon. I’m going to need your help figuring out my schedule so nobody knows.”
“Jesus, Roman. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not. You don’t need to know more than that. I don’t want anyone finding out. This isn’t going to become a pity party for me. I’m not going to do events for cancer or anything like that. Not because of him.”
I walked to the door.
“Roman?”
I looked back. “I love you.”
“I hate when you fucking say that,” I said.
I left Mackey’s office.
He was the first agent to take a shot with me. He looked beyond my past and didn’t care how much of a hothead I was.
I walked to the receptionist’s desk and tapped my knuckles on the desk.
A pretty blue eyed girl named Jane looked at me. “Mr. Knight.”
“Roman,” I grinned. “When do you get off today?”
“Five.”
“You were supposed to say ‘In your bed, Roman.’”
Jane gasped and blushed.
I pointed to a picture hanging on her desk. “Husband? Fiance? Boyfriend?”
“Boyfriend,” she said. “I’m only twenty-two.”
“Goddamn,” I whispered. “You’re lucky you caught me at a bad time. I have a meeting. I hope that guy is taking care of you. All the way.”
I laughed as I walked away. She would think of what I said for the rest of her life. That small window of chance to fuck the craziest QB in the world. Not that I gave a shit about her boyfriend. If I had really wanted her, she would have been in the women’s room, bent over, crying out my name.
But I really did have some shit to take care of.
I had to make
peace with the guy at the bar.
Then I had to talk to my brothers about our dying father.
I pounded on the backdoor, knowing there would be people out front waiting to see what would happen next. The press had a way of always finding me. It was their job and I couldn’t blame them for it. It made it a little hard on me to trust anyone because I never knew what was going to happen next to me. One night stands were the only way to commit to a relationship. And friendships? No. If I couldn’t get along with my own brothers, what the fuck was I going to do with friends?
The door opened and the old man stood there, eyes wide and weary.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know who I am?”
“I’m old, not blind.”
“Can I come in?”
“Why?”
“Listen, I want to talk to you. I want to apologize.”
“Then apologize.”
“Come on. Let me in. Let me buy you a drink. Figure this out.”
“Give me a minute. Let me clear the place out.”
The door shut.
I stood there for a few seconds before I heard someone yell my name.
“Roman! Look here!”
I half turned and a camera snapped my fucking picture.
I lifted my middle finger and kept it up.
“Hey Roman! What did the Commissioner say? Are you going to get punished?”
“Fuck off,” I yelled.
“Are you being formally charged for assault? Exposure? Roman, I heard your lawyer walked out on you. What about your agent?”
“Roman, give us a statement!” another one yelled.
Then there were six. Eight. Ten.
I grabbed the front of my jeans and opened them. Okay, I knew better than to take out my dick in public. Fine. I didn’t want to make anyone jealous anyway. I dropped my jeans and showed them all my bare ass.
“Here’s my statement!” I yelled.
The backdoor opened and the old man grabbed my shirt. “Get the hell in here, idiot.”
I stumbled forward into the back of the bar. I hurried to pick up my jeans and followed the old man through the storage room, a small kitchen, and out to the bar. He went right behind the bar and I sat at the end.
He put his hands to the bar and looked at me.
“Are you going to offer me a beer?” I asked.
“Are you going to offer to pay for all the damage to my bar?”
“You have insurance.”
“Not against you.”
“Think of a number and call my lawyer,” I said. “I’ll make sure you get settled up.”
The old man reached under the bar and put a beer in front of me. He twisted the top off and slid it toward me.
“Ten bucks.”
“For a beer?”
“I’ve had to raise my prices recently. Security concerns.”
I reached into my pocket and put a twenty on the bar. He snatched it up and grinned. “And I don’t give change.”
I smiled back and nodded. “Cheers.”
“Roman,” he said.
“Old man.”
“Hank.”
“Hank,” I said. I put a hand out. “Nice to meet you. Formally.”
He shook my hand. “You know, I wanted to blame your offensive line for that last play. I wanted to blame your receiver for not having enough power in his legs to get that extra yard. I wanted to blame the coaching staff for not having a better game plan for the team. But then I saw you last night and you know what? Fuck you. You should have had that extra yard on the ball.”
I took my hand back. “Yeah. Right. I take it you’re a Dragons fan.”
“It’s on the TV,” Hank said.
“Well I’m sorry I let you down, Hank. I think about that play everyday.”
“I know you do. I can see it in your eyes.”
I drank some of the beer. “Do you know why I’m here, Hank?”
“I can venture a guess.”
“Then venture for me.”
“You, uh, you’re taking heat from this thing. Everyone has a goddamn cell phone and an opinion.”
“And you have a camera right there,” I said and pointed. “That camera shows me throwing the first punch.”
“That it does.”
“Now if that camera wasn’t working or the footage goes missing, then the scales turn my way.”
Hank laughed. “This is the life you dreamed of, Roman?”
“What’s that?”
“Living like this. Filthy rich but chasing down money and legal issues.”
“Doesn’t matter what I dream of, Hank.”
“Most guys like you would take the paycheck and run. You could build a mansion, have your own bar to fight people in. What gives?”
“I’m just a regular asshole who found a way out of his own version of hell,” I said. “I have millions, Hank. Like tens of millions. But I just do my own thing.”
“I can respect that,” Hank said. He reached under the bar again. He put a disk on the bar. “Wasn’t sure how it would play out. This is the footage. I still run mine on disks. So if the police or a lawyer asks, I can say I forgot to put a new disk in. I’m old. What the fuck do I care? Maybe I have something wrong and I forget things.”
“Or maybe I came into the bar and stole the disk. If it was going to cause you some trouble.”
“Sure,” Hank said.
“I appreciate this, Hank,” I said. “I’m sorry about your bar. If you do need any money to fix anything, you call me. I’ll help you. I’ll make sure the noise settles down out there too. What happened…”
“I saw it,” Hank said. “That guy had it coming. He was trying to set you up.”
“I’m sorry my security guy punched you,” I said.
“I’m sorry I swung a bat at you. Funny as it is, Roman, as I was swinging it, I prayed I didn’t hit your throwing arm. Then I’d be the old bastard that took out the QB.”
I laughed hard. “You got that good of a swing, huh?”
“Played baseball,” Hank said. “Had a contract with the majors but gave it up to have a family. Wife was pregnant and I couldn’t leave her.”
“Jesus,” I said. “That takes balls.”
“Family is life. Now get out of my bar.”
I stood and pointed to the bat above the bar. The same one Hank had swung at me. “You want me to sign that for you.”
“No. Why ruin it?”
I laughed again.
I had the disk with the footage and I had made peace with Hank.
All in all, not a bad day.
The only thing that could make it better was if Caine or Slade called and said our father was dead.
(Willow)
Johnny turned a glass of crystal clear water. Paul stood with his hands in his pockets, staring out the window across the city. Jay was at his private bar, pouring another glass of scotch. He was the guy. His face looked beat up and cratered, his eyes big and saggy, his hair thinned and slicked back, but the man commanded the respect of everyone. There was a rumor around the office that he had died four years ago but when he got to hell, he managed to file a lawsuit against Satan and was sent back here.
All bullshit, of course, but when you met Jay, you understood it.
“Are we just going to sit here?” I asked Johnny. “I mean, I love the view from up here, but I do have work to do. I know the Donnelly case slipped by me but that doesn’t mean I have nothing else to do.”
“From the day I met you, Willow,” Paul said, still looking out the window, “you were bold. Fierce. Way too confident for yourself. Something just worked. It clicked.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “My eyes? Or my breasts?”
“Jesus,” Johnny said. His face turned bright red.
I had never seen Johnny nervous like this.
I didn’t care.
If they were going to fire me, whatever.
Paul looked back at me. “That’s some serious feminism coming from you, Willow.”
“What? Have I not been told to show off my tits when needed? Or to cover up so I don’t bother any of you? What are you going to do? Ride my ass because of some asshole and his DUI’s? You know what? Fuck him. Fuck Donnelly. Fuck all of you then.”
“Holy shit,” Johnny said. He slid the water toward me. “Drink this, Willow.”
“Why?”
“So you’ll shut the hell up.”
I closed my mouth.
Jay turned from the bar and walked slowly to the long conference table. “He’ll be here in a minute.”
“Who?” I asked.
Nobody would answer me.
So I just sat there.
Finally, I said, “You know what, if you’re going to fire me, then just do it. I’m not going to sue you. I’m not going to claim feminism or anything, okay? This is bullshit.”
Paul finally turned and looked at me. “You’re right, it is bullshit. We need you, Willow.”
“You need me?” I asked.
Jay put his glass on the table and looked at me. He had the most terrifying stare I’d ever seen. “We would like to fire you, but instead, think of this as a promotion.”
And with that, the conference room door opened.
“This is Ted,” Jay said. “A good friend of mine. Taught me everything I know about law.”
“And got him out of jail a few times.”
“That’s not relevant.”
“What is going on here?” I asked.
“I can’t believe I’m here,” Ted said. “But I’m at the end of my line.”
“Willow,” Jay said. “We need you to do something. For us. The firm. For Ted.”
“And what’s that?”
“You like football?” Ted asked with a grin.
“No. I don’t like sports.”
“Okay. Have you ever heard of Roman Knight?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Athlete that’s always in trouble, right?”
“That’s him,” Paul said. “Forever in trouble.”
“Roman is my client,” Ted said. “I’ve known him since he was in college. Maybe I’m the one that got hit in the head the wrong way but I can’t just push him away. That’s my personal fault. Okay? He’s a good man deep down inside.”
“How far down do you have to go to find the good?” Paul asked.
“Paul,” Jay said. “Shut up.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’m confused.”
“Roman is in the offseason. He just got a big payday from the Dragons. He’s in trouble again. I’m trying to smooth out the legal stuff…”