by M. C. Cerny
“Really?”
“Where are you now?” he asks, ignoring my question, apparently.
“At the office. I have a meeting now, but I’ll call you when I get home tonight.”
“You better, or I’ll add that to your tab, brat.” Shivering, I think about how Roman plans to take control of this. “Be safe and I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up before I can say anything else. I clutch the phone to my chest, willing a hug to pass through the device. It’s stupid, I know, but I can’t stop myself from missing him. I collect my clothes and my bag and force my way down the hall to the meeting.
“Finally, she’s joining us.” Lucas passes me a thick file folder and a legal pad with a pen as my dad continues the rundown of his meeting. “All right, most of Leah’s cases will be disbursed through the partners and assistant legal staff. Lucas is running a few of the cases conjoined and will continue to do so, taking over lead counsel on them.” What? Lucas is getting the bulk of Leah’s cases? Well, unless he performed a miracle and did a turnaround, I feel bad for those clients.
“Uh, Dad?” I feel obligated to say something against this, but my father steamrolls right over me and Lucas gives a sly grin from under the hand half covering his sneaky face. Bastard.
“Abigail will take this pro-bono defense case the firm was assigned through the court. Normally, I’d give it to a junior associate, but with your absence, I want to make sure you’re on the ball here.”
“Dad!” Now this was just ridiculous. I was a way better lawyer that Lucas, even if I had skipped town.
“Jeff?” Everest was questioning my dad too, wonderful. I really am persona non grata around here.
“Look, I need to know you’re going to be responsible and not up and leave again mid-cases.”
“I wasn’t mid-case on anything when I left.” The other associates are looking at me as if they don’t know all the details either. Apparently, Dad kept my memo a secret of sorts. I look over to Lucas who smirks at me and, of course, I should have known the asshole would have a found another bus to throw me under.
“The OmClair case, actually,” Lucas coughs, mentioning a case I actually assisted him with, not the other way around. Pushing back the file folder from in front of me, I narrow my gaze at my shit for brains ex, and he actually takes a nervous sip of his water. Good, he should be worried because if I’m back here, then I’m not taking his shit or any prisoners in my fight.
“Just do this for me, Abigial. Or do it for Leah. I don’t care as long as you get your shit together.” And there it was…Dad’s unspoken ultimatum and me caving in like the weak sucker I am.
“What’s this pro bono case?” I ask, conceding defeat. If this is my punishment, maybe it’s fitting, but I will damn well win it.
* * * * *
It turns out my case is on his way into the office. Reading his file briefly, I learn it’s a man in his late-forties named Oscar Campbell who is charged with drunk driving and hitting a stop sign and almost injuring a crowd of pedestrians when his car jumped the curb. It could have been a million times worse, liable or not. At least no one was killed, but this was his second offense in ten years. I’m still looking for the blood alcohol preliminary report, but I know I’m going to have to get a clerk to call the police department to track it down. It seems simple enough—talk to the judge and advocate for the client. Try to get the best and most reduced sentence possible, maybe enter a plea based on treatment outcomes for his alcohol addiction. I don’t have to like the client, but I have to work with him as a necessary evil. I wait in Leah’s office, which is now my temporary office, for him to show up.
“Come in.” My head is buried, studying his file, when I hear a knock on the door. Looking up, I watch the man enter the office in slow measured steps, wearing khaki pants and a button down shirt. He’s not the normal client I work with, but these are the breaks I’m going to have to deal with. Remembering Roman’s mom was killed by a drunk driver years ago, hardens me to much of what this client might say to me in the next hour.
“Ms. Holliday, thank you for meeting with me.” Oscar Campbell’s eyes are bloodshot and his hands a bit shaky as he takes the seat I offer him on the other side of the desk. I can smell the faint smell of vodka and mint from his breath. My stomach rolls from the unpleasant smell and I’m thankful to have a few feet of fine wood desk in between us.
“Mr. Campbell, please, call me Abby.” I continue at his nod. “Tell me, when was the last time you drank? Cause if I’m representing you, you better be stone-cold sober and working a program.” I lean across the desk, fingering the expensive pen from Leah’s special pen drawer.
“Ah, well, this week has been rough, Ms. Holliday.” Oscar runs a shaking hand through his hair.
“Look, you’re facing a pretty tough sentence, and if you want the judge to give you a passing glance without throwing the book at you, you better get yourself some help.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I bristle at him calling me ma’am, but it’s at least professional.
“You have insurance?” Already this case grates on my nerves, but I’m determined to give it my best shot.
“Just lost my job, but I have some cobra benefits until unemployment kicks in.”
I reach into Leah’s desk and pull out a card. “Call this number and get yourself in rehab tomorrow. I will postpone the hearing for thirty days, but I need you sober and remorseful.” Oscar nods, taking the card and leaving. I lean back in Leah’s chair, stretching a sore spot in my neck. This has been one fucked up day, and I haven’t even seen my sister yet—the one reason I came back and seemingly agreed to all of this…whatever this is going to be and for however long it takes.
“Enjoying the view already?” Lucas walks in unannounced and uninvited. I sit up, scowling as I toss the stupid pen on the desk, letting it bounce and roll over documents I need to review tonight. I’m not enjoying much of anything, and now I have to deal with him, again.
“Seriously, Lucas. Can you reign in your inner asshole?” If he’s going to gripe at me, he might as well get it right back.
“Sure, I’m actually here to offer you a ride home. Dad has decided you should stay with Leah and me at her condo. She just had a doctor visit this afternoon and is pretty wiped out.” I’m sorry what the fuck? This has me speechless.
“Wait? What? Are you kidding me? I have my own apartment to go home to.” Not only am I pissed at them arranging my life, but now Lucas is calling Dad, well…Dad? There is so much about this that is wrong. I don’t even know where to start.
“Yes, and while you ran off and I helped your dad get it cleaned and closed up.”
“Because you’re just so fucking helpful.” I snort.
Lucas is flippant continuing on his tirade. “He wasn’t sure when you were coming back. You can’t just leave your apartment uninhabited.” And why the hell not if it’s my apartment?
“I’ve been paying the maintenance fees. What the hell?”
“He probably left the electric on, but everything else is pretty much packed up. So about that ride, Abs, you know, to see your sick sister?”
“Fuck you. I’ll take a taxi over to check on her, and then I’ll go to my own apartment. I assume my keys still work.” I push back from the desk to stand up. The office, though large, feels claustrophobic with this dick invading my space.
“Suit yourself.” Shrugging, Lucas leaves the office and saunters out. Cocky bastard thinks he can weasel his way into my life and family. I think not. My head is a jumble—my ex running interference, my apartment subsequently packed up, and now having to deal with my sister who I’m estranged from… Roman cannot get here soon enough; I just wish I knew when that would be.
ROMAN
One thing to be grateful for is we don’t have a time zone to juggle in addition to our distance. I can’t imagine adding that to our tangled web. After leaving her at the airport, I slowly head back toward the marina to take care of a few things and then home to my now empty loft. My phone is
silent and it kills me, sitting in my parking garage, alone. I pull it out and decide to call her myself. Hearing her voice is a balm, but not a fix for what I really want. Her voice is tired and pained, and she’s only begun her day. I wonder if douche-canoe Lucas is being his usual un-charming self and the desire to hit him flares inside me. Again, battles I can’t fight fairly from hundreds of miles away.
Walking inside feels desolate, small reminders of Abby are strewn about my place—bright colors splashed throughout the chrome and wood, takeout menus from nights we refused to be social, and a bevy of umbrellas from the days it rained lay on the floor in a discarded damp pile. I told her to go ahead and coordinate her outfits with my collection of umbrellas as a joke. I didn’t think she’d take me up on my offer, but she did. It was worth every bit of chaos in my hall closet.
Some of her toiletries are left in my bathroom. Picking up a small bottle of hair product, I smell her scent. The controlled anarchy of items seems to fit in my space. Entering my bedroom, which we’ve left a bit of a mess as well, I find the bed sheets half pulled from the bed and clothing piled on chairs. A few lacy items peek out from a dresser drawer I cleaned out so she’d have a place to put things and not have to live out of her suitcase. Was it quick? Yeah. Too soon? Maybe, but the reality is it just felt right. No explanation was needed, and now, before we could find words to describe it all, she’s gone with hundreds of miles between us, and I hated it.
Slipping into my office, I fire up my computer to check things for the boat building business. Paperwork for me is a nightmare. I hate it. Just let me design boats and hand the other crap off to assistants and people who actually like paperwork. Helpful folks like Gary, my go-to guy. I continue reviewing schematics and engineering designs, stopping briefly to make coffee when I noticed some of the numbers are not matching up. If the calculations of the design are even a hair incorrect, then the boat will not be seaworthy. Inwardly groaning, I wonder how and who missed these alterations. The sleek new fiberglass material is not suitable for the bottom of the hull, but it seems that order got mixed with the heavier materials needed. Useless to me and a costly mistake. Shit. I’m going to have to address this with my builders tomorrow so the custom boat doesn’t end up being a tug boat or sinking on her maiden voyage. This delay will hold me up from leaving to get Abby’s car for several more days. Damn.
Eight in the evening and my stomach grumbles with hunger pangs as I scan my fridge for something worth eating. I consider takeout, but nothing tempts my sour stomach. It’s funny how a girl can do that when she wraps herself around your heart like a Vice-Grip of thorns. Flipping through those discarded menus, my phone lights up and sings Abby’s new ringtone “California Gurls” by Katy Perry. If I wasn’t already so head over heels for her, I’d turn in my man card, but she’s worth it.
Fucking finally.
“Hey, Hollywood, how’s the first day back in the saddle?”
“Hell from the moment I left you, sailor.” Her voice is soft and wavering.
I’m worried and feeling helpless, but I man up and admit it to myself. “Abby, tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t even know where to start. I didn’t even see my sister today.”
“Okay, take a deep breath and sit down. Where are you now?”
“I just got into my apartment. Dad took it upon himself to clean out my condo. Everything is pretty much in these fucking organized boxes and under sheets packed away. He paid some stranger to go through my shit.” I can tell she’s about to blow a water valve of tears.
“Did you eat anything today?” I can hear her rummaging through a bag.
“I got ice cream on the way home, some bananas, and oh, one avocado. Hold on.”
“Okay, I’m holding.” The last time Hollywood had an avocado in her hand, I ended up with a bruised ego and kisses that could bring a dying man back to life, or at least this one.
“Shit… even my silverware is packed, damn it,” She sounds defeated, voice wavering as I hear the sound of a rolling drawer closing.
“Oh, baby.” She’s losing it. Gone really. My pretty girl is melting down over some frozen rocky road and I’m not there, where I should be to hand her a spoon.
“Roman, I didn’t even get to see her. How could I have not even seen her? Lucas was a fucking bulldog after I refused a ride with him to her place. I got there in a taxi and she was resting in her bedroom. ‘Unavailable to visitors’ he tells me.” I assume she means Lucas the asshole who could use an ass kicking. “I didn’t want to wake her by fighting with him, so I left. What kind of person just leaves?”
“A considerate one. It was a bad day, sweetheart. Tomorrow you’ll be able to figure things out with a good night’s sleep.”
“But you’re not here,” she wails into the phone and the waterworks turn on full force.
“Abigail, I am wherever you are.”
“But—”
“Shhhh, listen to me. It’s going to take me a bit to get down there to you because of a botched up boat job I need to fix, but I am working on it, and I am with you always.”
“Roman, I’m sorry I chickened out on you. I’m just no good at this.”
“Baby, don’t apologize. You’re not the only one who sucks.” I tease a giggle from her and my heart swells. “We’ll figure this out, but for now, I want you to dig back in your bag and pull out that avocado.”
“What? Why?” She sniffles into the phone.
“Were you really going to eat it?” I’m hedging my bets she bought it because it reminded her of us.
“No. This thing is as hard as a rock. I was going to let it sit on my counter and mush so I could throw it at you when you got here.” She’s tearful and I’m laughing because only Abby would do something so sweetly ridiculous.
“No more tears today. I want you to go in to your bedroom.”
“Roman—”
“You’re too exhausted, sweetheart, so just get in your bedroom and strip.”
“I—”
“Don’t make me add another spanking, Hollywood. Now are you striping or not?”
“Yes, sailor. I am. I’m slipping these silky buttons through their tight little holes on my blouse and unzipping my skirt.”
“You’re being a naughty tease, stop it.” I’m groaning on my side of the phone line, imagining her doing exactly that. “What color is it?” I can’t stop myself from asking.
“Navy and gray. Just like your boat logo.” The thought of her wearing my colors, my anything really, makes me hard. I have to adjust myself sitting at the counter on the barstool. Grumbling, I wait for her to slowly continue.
“Perfect. Now slip back the sheets on your bed and get in.”
“It’s cold.”
“Baby, I’m going to warm you up. Now give my avocado a kiss goodnight and put it on the nightstand. It goes wherever you go.”
“This thing is going to mush in like two days, you know.” I can sense her smile is back, and for tonight, that will have to be enough for me.
“It probably will, but that’s okay. Mushy fruit seems to be our thing. Now put you head back on the pillow.”
“That’s so not sexy, Roman.”
Her sarcasm is sorely missed, and I bark with laughter. I make a mental note to have a local grocer near her deliver an avocado every day we’re apart. “It wasn’t meant to be. Close your eyes and tell me how you are getting back and forth to work tomorrow?” My little smartass.
“Taxi,” she mumbles through a yawn.
“No good. I don’t trust random drivers. I’ll have a car service for you waiting, no arguments, Hollywood. Give me your address.” She murmurs off an address and I remind myself to double check by sending an email to Maddie to see if the address is correct.
“S’okay.” She drifts off. She needs the sleep to recharge after all of the bad news she’s had to deal with.
Holding the phone close to my ear, listening to her gentle puffs of breath through the receiver, I tell her, “I sp
ank disobedient brats.”
“Mmm-hmm…You’ve yet to follow through.” She’s quiet and her voice tapers off.
“Sleep tight. I’ll take care of what I can.” My hand clenches, all this talk of spanking her golden skin has me thinking of lots of things I’d like to do next time I see and hold her.
“Love you,” she mumbles, surprising me. Her breathing slows and she’s asleep. I click off the phone, relieved she’s at least safe in her place and in a bed.
Resting the phone against my forehead, wishing osmosis worked through phones, I whisper, “Love you too, Abigail Holliday. I’ve come to love you so damn much.” I practice the words out loud to my empty loft, wishing she could hear me say them face to face.
Chapter Sixteen
ABIGAIL
Waking up groggy sucks. Yesterday, sucked. Missing Roman is the suckiest. I know, for a lawyer, my use of the English language is abysmal. Super sucky, so sue me. I push myself up from the bed, kicking the sheets back. It’s only six thirty in the morning, but I have to get a hustle on if I’m going to make it to the office on time, so I can get out of there by one o’clock and head over to my sister’s. The perk of working for my dad is I’m going to abuse the long lunch policy, and if he doesn’t like it, he can fire my ass. I’m pretty sure he’d pass me up for a partner promotion anyway, so I’m not really losing out. Am I a brat? Sure, but I have to sleep with my decisions at night.
Staggering to my shower, I jump in and clean up. I almost forgo shaving my legs since Roman isn’t here to see them, but this is LA and I don’t wear stockings to the office, ever. That’s where I subtly rebel. Getting out, I grab a box near the closet labeled: work attire. Ripping it open, I grab the first thing on top. It’s wrinkled beyond repair at this hour, so I stuff it back in going into the kitchen instead. I check my coffeemaker and decide I’ll just call the cab company and get things moving. Checking my phone, I’ve already got two text messages.