by Leigh James
I just wish I knew what game we were playing. With whom.
Walker sat right next to me on the couch with his arm around me and I let him, not sure of where the new lines were between us, if there were any. He was still my client and I would still be disbarred if I had a physical relationship with him. To date, we had a semi-physical relationship and certainly an inappropriate emotional attachment; both were about to explode, I could feel it. The attraction between us was thick, making my limbs feel heavy my head ache. There was a physical heat between us that made me feel like I was burning when I was near him, which was all of the time. I didn’t know if he could feel it, too.
But he was still my client. I couldn’t fuck that up for him, no matter what my body wanted.
But my body wanted it bad.
I tried to make myself focus. There was no follow-up story about the driver on the news, but at least there wasn’t a companion story of some new act of violence. I couldn’t concentrate, and we couldn't talk, so I decided to make a list, because that’s what I always did to calm myself down.
Things to Do.
(1) Return laptop — download any pertinent docs first.
(2) Get a new cell phone.
(3) Make sure all my personal bills are paid.
(4) Get a P.O. Box for professional mail.
(5) Register my new address with the Bar.
(6) Get gap malpractice coverage.
(7) Make sure David files a Withdrawal.
(8) File an Appearance.
(9) Go see Richie and the boys.
(10) Make some sort of plan.
(11) Avoid sleeping with my client.
(12) Fire Lester Max.
“Oooh, we forgot to back and ask the Board to fire Lester Max today,” I said. “Too many margaritas.”
“Let’s talk about it tomorrow,” Walker said, squeezing my shoulders and watching the news.
I had to make myself stop looking at his gorgeous face and his tousled black hair, so I went back to my list. I refused to even think about number eleven, especially with Walker’s arm around me, but I had to put it on there to be thorough. Number ten was the real bitch. We were going to have to make a plan about how to move forward. I couldn’t really picture us going to trial while people were being killed and we were being followed and wire-tapped; I also couldn’t really picture myself going to the police to tell them our crazy story, even though it was true. I wasn’t sure what they could do, if anything.
I had to get prepared for the trial, though. I didn’t have enough time to ignore it, even with everything else going on. To make sure that I mounted a defense for every allegation, covered every base, and made sure that I had enough supporting cases. None of this was going to be easy without an extensive legal team and the help of Lester Max. It might be impossible.
But I could organize it. I knew I could. And as for Lester Max? I could subpoena him, I could depose him, I could do all sorts of nasty things to him.
I must have had a big smile on my face because Walker turned to me and smiled back. “What’re you thinking about, Nic? It can’t be the Red Sox, ‘cause they are blowing it this season.” He motioned to the sportscast on the flat screen.
“I’m planning your defense,” I said, and smiled some more. “I think I’m going to enjoy this.”
“You are such a lawyer. You were just born this way, weren’t you? Analyzing things and making lists?” He peeked over my shoulder and I clutched my yellow legal pad against my chest so he couldn’t read it.
“I think so,” I said. Then I frowned. I started thinking about the rest of the items on my list, particularly items eleven and nine.
I flipped the pages on my notebook to a clean page and wrote. I have to go to Somerville to see my dad.
First thing tomorrow, he wrote back, then: Ready for bed?
I nodded, my heart pounding all of a sudden.
Let’s do what we did the other night, he wrote, but let’s do it on the bed.
OK, I wrote back. Safer and more comfortable. But I’m not going to DO IT with you. I blushed crimson as he raised his eyebrows at me.
I wasn’t asking you to.
I blushed harder, if that was possible, and stared at my feet. He nudged me. Just kidding, he wrote. I was totally asking you to. He looked up at me hopefully and we both started to laugh, silently, so that the people who were listening to us still thought we were just watching the news.
I can’t, I wrote.
I know, he wrote back, and grabbed my hand. He pulled me up and wrapped his arms around me, his body encasing mine, his lips crushed against my hair. I put my face on his chest and let myself run my fingers down his ripped torso. Waves of heat rolled through me and I felt my body doing things on its own that I would never have approved of. Like earlier, on the stairs, I pressed myself against him, trying to get him inside me through our clothes. He leaned down and kissed my neck and I moaned, and then he stopped. He took a deep breath and exhaled, stepping back.
He leaned down to whisper in my ear, so quiet I could barely hear him. “I can’t keep doing this. One of these times, I’m just going to take you, standing up, wherever we are.”
I was squirming, wet and sticky. I looked up at him, wanting nothing more than to rip his clothes off, and mine, and let him take me wherever and however the hell he wanted, but the good girl in me won again. Damn. “I’m sorry,” I whispered back, and then he put his whole body against me again, his cock enormous and rock hard through his cargo shorts.
“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered hotly. “I love the way you make me feel. I want you, Nicole.”
I let myself rub against him and kissed his neck, heat rolling through me like I was going to burst into flames. “I want you, too,” I whispered back. “But later, when we can.”
He grabbed my ass and pulled me against him once, really hard, and I could feel an unbearable ache in between my legs. Could we fuck with our clothes on? I thought wildly. Would that get me disbarred? But at the mention of the word “disbarred” my desire contracted and I stepped back, and I was just left feeling unsatisfied, confused, and slightly angry.
Holding hands was lovely, but it was so not enough. Not anymore.
He shook his head, shaking off his arousal, and grabbed my hand. I could still see his hardness; it was such a shame. It was big. Really big. And I was wild for it — I didn’t want to waste it. What if it didn’t come back? What if it didn’t like me by the time I was ready? What if it liked Minky Lucca better?
“I can see the look on your face. Stop,” Walker whispered. “I will wait for you.” He dragged me upstairs and we went in to brush our teeth. He winked at me in the mirror as I tried not to stare at the bulge in his shorts, which was now half-mast. I was beginning to get depressed.
No one would hear us, said an evil, wanton voice inside my head. Not if you’re quiet. No one would ever have to know.
Except those people who bugged the house and are listening to us. Duh, I thought back, looking covertly over at Walker’s bulge again. I knew I would scream with that, and no, that was not going to happen. Not tonight.
I watched the bulge disappear and I sighed to myself.
“Ready?” Walker asked. He led me to the bedroom, and we lay down on the bed together for the first time. We didn’t bother with the charade of opening and closing the door.
He leaned over to gently kiss my cheek. “I don’t care how long it takes,” he whispered, holding my hand. “You’re worth your very expensive hourly rate. You’re also worth the wait.”
CHAPTER 22
The next morning when I woke up we were still holding hands. Walker was smiling in his sleep, his gorgeous face relaxed and open, vulnerable. I watched him for a minute, his chest rising and falling slowly, peacefully.
I decided to get up and shower; a few minutes alone would be good. I went downstairs and went through my bag, rummaging for my makeup. I grabbed Tammy’s large compact of bronzer and brought it upstairs, too. She’d said I lo
oked pale and even though she always said I looked pale, she was usually right.
I tiptoed past Walker so I wouldn’t wake him and I took a long, hot shower, briefly remembering all the physical contact we’d had the day before. I didn’t let myself linger on it; it had been a mistake, a luxurious one, but we couldn’t do that again. It was too dangerous. We needed each other, and the easiest way for us to be separated would be someone finding out that we were having a relationship. Then I would get disbarred and everything would be over. What I had to concentrate on now was getting Walker’s case together, quickly, and finding out if there was any evidence that could implicate Lester Max. We would be watched and followed, but we would be careful, and hopefully, no one else would get hurt.
I didn’t know why they had attacked the pizza delivery guy. It didn’t make sense to me. I had used my credit card; my credit card was hardly interesting. It wasn’t interesting enough to warrant killing a man.
My thoughts swirled around me as I got out and carefully brushed my hair, pulling it back in a headband so I could do my makeup. I put on a little foundation, eyeliner and mascara. It was only seven o’clock in the morning, but it would be nice to look presentable before His Highness woke up. I grabbed the compact from Tammy and opened it. There was a note taped to the mirror.
TRUST NO ONE.
IT’S WORSE THAN YOU THINK.
What the fuck, I thought, hazily. I saw black splotches in front of my eyes and grabbed the countertop for support; the world went fuzzy around me. Walker, I thought, I need to show this to Walker.
But then I wondered…did Tammy mean I couldn’t trust him?
I stayed where I was for a long moment and thought it through, forcing myself to use the logical part of my brain, the part I’d always relied on.
I was breathing heavily, but I collected myself. I had the eerie feeling that I was running out of time, and that I needed to keep my shit together in order to see all of this through. I trusted Tammy, and I believed her note. But she didn’t know what I already knew — about Lester Max, about the Miami sub-corporation and the fact that the firm had been involved in siphoning off some of Walker’s funds to supposedly protect them.
Still, her note confirmed a couple of things for me. First, that everything I’d feared was true: there were bad people following us, that Lester Max was no longer be trustworthy, if he had ever been trustworthy, and that the government’s charges against Walker were most likely questionable. So I couldn’t trust the people who worked for Walker, and I couldn’t trust the people Walker worked for, and I wasn’t sure which one of them was following us, or if it was some interested third party that I hadn’t even been able to dream up yet.
That was the first thing.
The second thing, the “it’s worse than you think” thing, confirmed my previous suspicions. The firm had taken money from Walker, and even though David said it was in his best interests, I didn’t know that for sure. There was something fishy about the Advent file, too, but I didn't know what it was. So the firm was another thing I could no longer fully trust, no longer rely on. Maybe Tammy knew something about it and was trying to warn me that it was more than just crazy, angry Norris Phaland that I needed to worry about.
Could it be worse than all that?
I really freaking hoped not.
In my heart, I knew there were some people I trusted. I had to trust them, or my life wouldn’t make sense. My father. Mimi. Tammy. Mandy and Alexa. If I was being honest with myself, I hadn't totally lost trust in David Proctor. Not yet.
And Walker…could I trust Walker?
I looked up at my eyes in the mirror and I knew myself, my thoughts. I trusted myself, first and foremost. And…I trusted him. With everything that I had. With my life.
“Walker,” I went to him, shaking him slightly. He sat up, disoriented, and looked at me.
“You okay?” he asked, and I put my finger over my lips to shush him and I nodded.
“I’m good,” I said in my fake voice. “I’m ready to get to work.”
I passed him the compact and mouthed to him: “From Tammy. Read the note.”
He read it and looked sunken suddenly, like someone had just landed another blow on him and he wasn’t ready for it. “I’m ready to get going,” he said listlessly in his fake-normal voice, but he looked weary, like he’d rather just roll over and go back to sleep, sleep through everything. I couldn’t blame him.
“I have to draft my Appearance and we need to file it with the Clerk’s office,” I said, trying desperately to sound normal. “And my dad,” I mouthed to him, and he nodded.
“I’ll go make us some coffee,” I said, and patted him on the back. I looked at the clock. It was only seven-thirty.
It was going to be a long day.
* * *
BEFORE I DRAFTED MY APPEARANCE, which was really just a one-page form, I remembered that I had to deal with my laptop. I had opened up two new email addresses with fake names; I took my laptop and I highlighted all of the files I wanted, and then I emailed them to myself at my new fake address from my other new fake address. Then I deleted everything from the hard drive that I could, knowing full-well the firm’s IT guys could recover it all, anyway. I wasn’t worried about the IT guys.
It was everyone else that I was worried about.
There were three missed calls on my cell phone. They were from David Proctor. I poured myself some coffee, steeled myself for another lecture, and called him back.
“Nicole,” he said, after the first ring, like he’d been waiting for me. “I’m very upset about yesterday. I didn’t handle our meeting well. I don’t want you to resign. I don’t think it’s best for the case, I don’t think it’s best for the client, I don’t think it’s best for the firm. And I don’t think it’s the right thing for you, Nicole.”
I took a deep breath. “Thank you for saying that, David,” I said, watching as Walker walked down the stairs. He raised his eyebrows at me. “David,” I mouthed.
“I’d like you to come in and talk to me,” David said. “This all happened too fast. I don’t want you to leave the firm under circumstances like this. You won’t recover from it professionally, Nicole. And I know you want to win this case. And you could — but you need help,” he said, and I sighed because I knew he was right, but I didn’t want to know it.
“Listen,” David said. “You need to bring in your laptop anyway. Just come in and talk to me. And leave Walker at home.”
“I can’t do that,” I said, looking up at Walker.
“You can’t come in?” David asked. “Or you can’t leave Walker?”
“I’ll come in,” I said, and sighed again. “But Walker’s coming, too.” I hung up and looked at him.
“What was that all about?” Walker asked.
I got up and made him a coffee. “Can you text your detention officer so you can go out? We still have time left this week, so you won’t get into trouble. David wants me to come in this morning— to talk about the case. He doesn’t want me to leave the firm. He wants me to stay, and he wants to help.”
“You mean he wants the fee,” Walker said, following me into the kitchen. I handed him his coffee and we just looked at each other. I didn’t know the right thing to do, here. I didn’t know where to turn, or if David was either trustworthy or could actually help. Actually, I was certain he could help me with the case. It was the trustworthy part that was the problem.
I tapped the laptop and looked at Walker. “I stripped it,” I mouthed. He nodded.
“Maybe he can give me a more full explanation of the Miami payments. He probably looked into it. Let’s just go in and hear what he has to say,” I said, shrugging at Walker as if to say: What do we have to lose?
“Okay,” he said.
“Tammy,” I mouthed at him, and he nodded. I could ask her about the note.
“Just let me get ready. I’ll be quick. I’ll call the officer, too.” He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the cheek, tucking my hair b
ehind my ear. I kissed him back, softly, and he nuzzled his unshaven face into my neck. I kissed him on the lips tentatively, knowing I shouldn’t, and he deepened it, his tongue briefly searching my mouth. My back arched greedily as I leaned into him, feeling his hardness press against me.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, breaking our embrace, his fake-normal voice hoarse. Our eyes locked and my insides contracted painfully with need; I was wet and aching between my legs. I’d never wanted someone that much, and the fact that I couldn't have him was going to drive me absofuckinglutely crazy.
He walked upstairs and I just stood there, panting, thinking what the fuck Nicole, what the fuck Nicole, what the fuck, Nicole?
Not for the first time, I really hoped we weren’t under video surveillance.
* * *
“WHAT DO you think about continuing on with the firm?” I asked Walker, when we were headed downtown. I hadn’t told him about the supposed trust that Lester and David had colluded to set up; part of me still felt like I needed to shield him from all of this, at least until I had enough information so that I could make a rational judgment about it.
“I think it’s up to you, really,” he said. “You are the one I want as my counsel. I told you yesterday — I don’t trust them. But if you do, and if you feel that you’d be better served as being part of the Proctor team, I completely support you. I trust your judgment, Nic. I just happen to think you can do it on your own,” he said and smiled at me. “We can hire a temporary paralegal. They can help with all the documents you have to get ready for the trial, the scheduling, whatever.”
I thought about it. “If we hired someone and I had that sort of support, it would make a huge difference,” I said, working it through in my mind. “Even just to make copies for the discovery requests.”
“Works for me,” Walker said. “But hear David out, anyway. He was blindsided yesterday. He’s had some time to think it through. Maybe he’ll have more information…or maybe he’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse.”