The Game (Carolina Connections Book 4)

by Sylvie Stewart

  I laughed and watched her go, suddenly feeling a bit lighter after sharing that part of my past with her. I just hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite me in the ass.

  “Yo, Junior!” Mark yelled as he crossed the lot in my direction. I felt the sweat drip down my spine as I straightened. So much for mild springtime weather. It was a scorcher and it was only mid-April.

  “What’s up, man? You need me at a site with air conditioning? Shoot. Well, all right. I guess I can do it.”

  “Always the smartass,” he said, shaking his head and curling his lip. He came to a stop in front of me.

  “I like to think of it as providing comic relief,” I told him.

  He ignored me. “Fiona’s cooking a pot roast. You’re supposed to bring Emerson over.”

  My stomach immediately growled at the thought. Fiona’s pot roast was a religion of its own. There was no way I was missing it. “Your place or hers?” I asked.

  “Our place,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

  “Please tell me she didn’t sell the condo.”

  “Do I look stupid to you?” He scowled at me.

  “You sure you want me to answer that?”

  “Get your ass back to work.” He hit me in the arm and I almost fell over.

  “Ow!” I cried to his departing back.

  “You deserved it. Quit your crying.” He didn’t even have the decency to look at me while he talked.

  “Just for that, I’m taking an extra serving!”

  “Go ahead and try. Seven o’clock!”

  I rubbed my arm and pulled out my phone to text Emmy. I knew she had a busy day with her meeting but I was hoping she’d get off in time for pot roast. I opened our text thread.

  Gavin: Fiona is cooking tonight at 7:00. I promise you don’t want to miss it.

  I waited for a minute but there was no reply. Not all that surprising. I’d have to check back later. I scrolled up so I could read our text exchange from the night before. I felt my face tug.

  Gavin: I was just listening to Miley Cyrus so I had to check in. Are you decent?

  Emmy: Ha, ha. There is no way you listen to Miley Cyrus.

  Gavin: That’s pretty presumptuous. How do you know? I might have her whole damn collection.

  Emmy: That’s about as likely as me having Run-DMC’s whole collection.

  Emmy: You still there.

  Gavin: Sorry. I can’t type and laugh at the same time. Run-DMC? Really? How old are you?

  Emmy: Old enough to know that this line of questioning is going to get you in trouble if you don’t watch it.

  Gavin: Shutting up now. You done with work?

  Emmy: I wish.

  Gavin: I’ll let you get back to it.

  Emmy: Okay. Thanks for the distraction. Talk to you tomorrow?

  Gavin: Anytime. Sweet dreams, Emmy.

  I quickly looked around, sure I had a stupid smile on my face and not wanting to catch any heat for it. Then I got my ass back to work.

  When quitting time rolled around and I still hadn’t heard back from Emmy, I was in a conundrum of sorts. I wanted the pot roast, but I also wanted to see Emmy. I was experiencing one of man’s age-old dilemmas. Our three essential needs of food, sleep, and sex sometimes conflicted and we had to make a choice. My very male brain chose sex. So I went home and took a shower. Then I made a last-ditch effort to call her, and when there was still no answer I decided on a whim to just head over to her office. It wasn’t too far from Fiona’s place anyway, so maybe I’d get to kill two birds with one stone after all.

  I parked and made my way up to her floor, looking down at my t-shirt and jeans and realizing too late that I probably should have dressed a bit nicer. I remembered where her office was, so I bypassed the front desk and walked down a couple hallways until I reached her door. It was closed and the lights were off.

  I assumed I must have just missed her and reached for my phone to check for a text. It was odd, not only that she finished with work so early, but that she hadn’t returned my text or call. I was pressing the button to turn on my phone when that Craig guy stepped out from another office. He did a double take, and when he recognized me, his lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. I knew right then that something was very wrong.

  “Looking for your girlfriend?” He asked.

  I didn’t respond. I just held his eyes.

  He sighed, as if I were playing some game he was tired of. “I’d check the unemployment office. She was let go about a half hour ago. You just missed her.”

  He brushed by me and walked casually down the hall in the direction I’d come from. I was speechless.

  Let go? How was that possible?

  That slimy fucking son of a bitch. He was behind this, that was one thing I knew for damn sure. The other thing I knew? He was going to get his ass handed to him one way or another. You don’t mess with my girlfriend and get away with it.

  I turned and went after him, catching up with him at the elevators. “What the hell happened?” I demanded as he pressed the down button and kept his eyes on the closed doors.

  “I’m not really sure,” he said, feigning innocence. “But our firm doesn’t tolerate slackers.” That was when he turned and let his eyes deliberately take in my clothes.

  If I weren’t so pissed I probably would have rolled my eyes at him. I backed away toward the stairs and pointed at him. “This isn’t over, asswipe.”

  He assumed a bored expression and I took off down the stairs, anxious to track Emmy down and find out what the hell was going on. I didn’t see her car anywhere, so I hopped in my Jeep and tore out of there, hitting her contact on my phone. My call went directly to voicemail so I knew she’d turned her phone off. I pointed my Jeep in the direction of her house, but I knew before I even rang the bell that nobody was home. Dammit! I could find Jay’s number if I went over to the Academy, but he was at practice so he wouldn’t have his phone on him. And I didn’t have Ari’s number or address so I was shit out of luck. I wracked my brain for the name of Ponch’s shop, but drew a complete blank. The only thing I could remember was that it sounded slightly dirty. I did a quick Google search and found it. Stroke. That was it. Jesus, that guy. I hit call and waited while it rang once, twice, three times.

  “Stroke, whaddya want?” blurted a female voice over the line.

  “Yeah, hi. Is Ponch around?”

  “That depends on who’s askin’.”

  I did not have time for this shit.

  “Tell him it’s Gavin Monroe, and Emerson’s in trouble.”

  “Hold on.” There was a bang on the other end as if the phone had just been dropped. Then I heard muffled voices and the tail end of Ponch’s statement to whoever the hell had answered the phone. “…or I’m not letting you answer the goddamn phone anymore!” Then his voice spoke into the phone clearly. “Gavin. What the hell is going on? Is Emerson all right?”

  I took a moment to consider how to answer that. Then I just laid it out. “I’m probably going to get my ass kicked for telling you this, but she got fired today. I can’t find her—she’s not home and her phone is turned off. I figured she might be with Ari but I don’t have her number or address.”

  “Shit. How the hell did that happen?”

  “I don’t have a fucking clue. That’s why I need to call Ari. Can I have the number, man?” If he gave me a hard time, I was going reach through the phone and nut-punch him.

  “Yeah.” He rattled off the number and I wrote it down on the back of a fast food receipt.

  “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let on that you know about the job.”

  “No problem. I’ll call Ari later. Good luck, kid.”

  I grunted irritably.

  He coughed out a short laugh. “You’re way too easy to mess with. Later.” And he hung up.

  I quickly dialed Ari’s number. It rang a few times and went to voicemail. “Ari, it’s Gavin. I’m looking for Emerson. I know what happened at work. Please call me when you get this.”


  About a minute later, I got a text.

  Ari: I’m hiding in the bathroom. She doesn’t want me talking to anyone.

  Gavin: So she’s with you? Is she okay?

  Ari: She was here when I got home. She’s acting really weird.

  Gavin: What do you mean?

  Ari: She’s not crying. She’s sending out resumés and pacing. She won’t tell me what happened—just that she got fired and she keeps saying “stupid!” over and over. How did you find out?

  Gavin: I went to her office and ran into that Craig asshole.

  Ari: I knew that two-faced twat had something to do with this. That guy is a fuckwad!

  Gavin: No arguments here. Can I come over?

  Ari: Shit. I don’t think she’s ready to see anybody yet. I’ll work on her and try to get her to call you.

  Gavin: Okay. Thanks.

  Ari: We’ll get this figured out. Don’t worry.

  Ari: I’ve gotta get back. TTYL

  I lowered the phone and looked up and down Emmy’s street, not sure what I was expecting to see. Ari’s news had not sounded good and it kind of hit me in the gut that Emmy didn’t want to see me. I had no idea what to do with myself, so I did the only thing I could think of. I went to the batting cages.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jerks Are the Worst

  EMERSON

  “Sampson and Dornet! They like me! Oh, but I beat Dornet at our last round of golf. Probably not great, but there’s nothing I can do about it now,” I muttered to no one in particular. I looked up the e-mail address and started composing another personalized cover letter.

  Six down and…about three hundred to go.

  “What was that?” Ari asked, coming back into the room.

  “Nothing. I just thought of another one.”

  “That’s good,” Ari answered and came closer until she was standing with her hand on the back of the dining chair I was using as my desk chair. Her kitchen table had become my makeshift office. “Anything I can do to help? Want me to Google ‘corporate law in Greensboro’?”

  I nodded. “Better make it the whole Triad area. Thanks.” I continued to type.

  I could feel Ari behind me, just standing there. I knew she was going to speak before she opened her mouth.

  “So, are you ready to talk about it yet?” She sounded like she was addressing a crazy person holding a gun.

  “Nope.” My fingers flew over the keyboard. I wasn’t stopping until I’d exhausted every possibility.

  “Okay. I’m gonna make some dinner. Do you want some?”

  “No, but thanks,” I responded distractedly. “Do you think including a recommendation from your law professor is tacky when you’ve been out of school for four years?”

  “Ummm…” was all she said, and I finally turned to her. She looked stricken that she didn’t have an answer for me. Shoot. I wasn’t being a very good friend right now.

  “It’s okay, Ari. I really appreciate you helping me out.”

  She got the sappy eyes and started to come in for a hug. I put a hand out to stop her. “I can’t hug right now. If I do, I’ll start crying. And I can’t cry right now. I can’t cry until I get a new job.”

  That made her look even more sad.

  “I’m sorry. I just…”

  She gave me a half-hearted smile. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. Go back to your letter and I’ll get that Google search for you. And I’ll make enough dinner so you can have yours later.”

  “Thanks, Ari. You’re the best.” I attempted a smile.

  “Damn straight,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. Then she went off to the kitchen, leaving me to it.

  Luckily, I’m an organizational freak, so my resumé was already up to date. How I was going to get a new job without a reference from my old job, though, I had no idea. And the fact that—apart from some internships I’d done—Jefferson, Wheeler, and Schenk was the only professional job I’d had was a huge problem.

  Crap! If only I hadn’t gotten in that argument with my dad, I could ask for his advice. Of course, I could always grovel and admit he’d been right all along. Because he had been. I was so stupid! There I’d been, trying to hold the moral high ground as he spouted prejudicial judgments, all the while forgetting that I worked for people who thought just like him! I was so angry with myself, I could hardly breathe when I let myself think about it.

  So stop thinking about it, Emerson! Get back to work. Find a job so you can pay your mortgage and your car payment and take care of your brother!

  Right. Back to work. I’d worry about references later.

  Oh! Travis. I wondered where he was working now. Maybe they had an opening. I shot off a quick text message to him, ignoring the unanswered texts from Gavin. I most definitely couldn’t think about Gavin right now.

  I researched, typed, and sent e-mails, only stopping for coffee and a quick bite Ari forced on me before finally giving in to exhaustion at two in the morning. Ari had tried to stay up with me but fell asleep on the couch around midnight. I covered her with a blanket and staggered my way to her guest room where I put on the t-shirt she’d left for me and climbed into bed.

  Despite my fatigue, sleep didn’t come. Instead, memories of the worst day in my professional life bombarded me.

  My first clue should have been the moment my new “ally” refused to meet my gaze. Our team was meeting in the east conference room ahead of the official AgPower meeting. Their executives weren’t due for another hour, and we were taking the opportunity to get all our ducks in a row so the meeting would run as smoothly as possible. Because of the importance of the case to our entire firm, Mr. Schenk and Mr. Jefferson were slated to make an appearance.

  Everything was in line. I knew this because I’d spent the previous night checking and rechecking each piece. The articles of incorporation, the IP assignment agreement, the bylaws, the founder’s agreement, the NDAs, the employment contracts…everything. I even checked over items that were not part of our firm’s scope of the project. The main goal was to help the client succeed, and we did whatever that took. The only thing I didn’t have in my hands was the patent re-file, but I’d spoken with Craig the night before and he e-mailed me the confirmation receipt he’d gotten from the patent office.

  I had my laptop and files out in front of me, as did the other associates in the room, Craig included. We were just waiting on the managing partners. A second-year associate named Shelly was asking me a question about a merger when Mr. Wheeler stalked in the room and sat without a word. This was unusual. He wore a grim expression and his eyes were on the conference table.

  A feeling of dread crept over me. I looked over to Craig and his eyes remained fixed on his laptop. That was when I knew.

  Mr. Wheeler cleared his throat and then his eyes came directly to me.

  “Thirty minutes ago, I got a call from Dietrich. One of their patents wasn’t filed and a rival company filed on Friday. EnerGro.”

  “That’s not possible,” I said, trying to ignore what I already knew. “Which one?”

  He set a folder on the table and slid it across the surface until it was stopped by my hand. My fingers shook as I opened the folder and saw the specs for the very patent Craig had found the mistake on and re-filed for me.

  I quickly brought up my e-mail and tried to open the forwarded confirmation, but it was gone. Disappeared as if it had never been there in the first place. I looked at Craig again, but he was typing furiously into his laptop.

  That slimy, two-faced, conniving jerk. Why had I trusted him? He was never interested in the good of the firm—he was only interested in the good of Craig Pendleton. I randomly thought that he and Elliot should get together, but realized I must be losing my mind.

  Think, Emerson!

  Melissa, the paralegal, had sent the original filing. All I had to do was get her to e-mail me that one. But it had the wrong date! Shoot. But it was better than nothing.

  “Ms. Scott,” Mr. Wheeler interrupted my tr
ain of thought, his voice stern. “How did this happen?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Wheeler. I’m trying to get a confirmation e-mail right now. One moment, please.”

  I finished my e-mail to Melissa and prayed she was at her desk. I pulled out my phone to call her just as her e-mail response came through. “I’m currently out of the office until April 24th. I’ll respond to e-mails upon my return. If you need immediate assistance, please contact Isaac Garcia at igarcia@jwslaw.com.”

  My stomach dropped and I lifted my eyes slowly to Craig. Only then did he meet my eyes, and his expression could only be described with one word: victory.

  I swallowed hard and turned to Mr. Wheeler, just as the other two managing partners entered the room. All I had was a draft of the patent application. I had no record it had ever been filed. I was essentially screwed. “I’m so sorry, sir, I don’t know what happened. I believe Melissa Yates has a record of the patent application but she’s out of the office. However, there was a date discrepancy and we had to re-file.” There was no way I was throwing Melissa under the bus, and any attempt to blame Craig would be met with his denial. I had no record of our interaction over the patent. It would make me look desperate and even more unprofessional than I already appeared. I swallowed hard and forced the words out. “I’m afraid I failed to do so.”

  And, in the end, that was the truth. It was my responsibility. I’d let Craig pull one over on me because my focus hadn’t been where it should be. And I’d allowed him to do me the “favor” of re-filing because I hadn’t wanted to miss my dinner date with Gavin. Stupid! Why hadn’t I followed my instincts?

  I knew exactly why. I let sexual attraction and a nice smile divert my attention from what was truly important. I’d worked my butt off for this partnership for the last four years and it was slipping away because I suddenly discovered that sex could be great. I could hear my father’s voice in my head and I wanted to scream.

  Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Schenk sent me disgusted looks while Mr. Wheeler simply turned to the rest of the table and said, “Damage control. What can we do?”