by M. S. Parker
Carrie's smile widened. “I can relate to that.”
I knew she could. For a while, we'd both thought Gavin was bad news and Carrie had been torn between what she'd wanted and what we thought was good for her.
“About the job, though,” she said. “Krissy, you have to follow your gut, but know that an opportunity like this doesn't come around very often. If you give this up because this DeVon guy can be kind of an ass, or because you think he's hot, will you be able to live with that decision?”
I didn't answer. She was right. If the job offer was still on the table, I would've had to consider that, but I doubted Mr. Ricci was going to keep pursuing me. Aside from the number of insults I'd thrown at him, I'd also flown back to New York without giving him an official answer. When I didn't show up later this morning, he'd figure it out.
“Whatever you do, I'll support you,” Carrie said as she pulled up in front of my building.
I nodded, thanked her for the ride and then headed upstairs. I didn't even bother to shower or undress. I kicked off my shoes, dropped my bag next to my bed and flopped down on the bedspread. This time, I didn't have any problem falling asleep.
My alarm woke me far too soon and I was in a daze as I showered and dressed. The apartment was quiet without Carrie there. Her things were all packed and ready to go this weekend, but she stayed with Gavin most nights anyway. She'd promised me this weekend, but a part of me wished she'd have stayed last night. It would've been nice to at least see her while I downed my first cup of coffee and headed out the door.
The caffeine was starting to kick in by the time I reached the coffee shop where I ordered my usual, but with an extra shot of espresso. I was going to be wired, but the alternative was sleepy and that wouldn't do. I had to prove to Mimi that I wanted to be there, even though I'd rather be on the West Coast, working for Mirage.
Mimi was on the phone when I got there so I just waved, then headed for my desk. Leslie and Dena smiled at me as I passed and I knew they'd want the scoop on what had happened, but I didn't want to go over it again just yet. I called out that I'd talk to them at lunch and continued to my desk. Since I'd technically been on vacation, there were memos and files waiting for me regarding cases I was assigned to, so I had plenty to keep me busy. I began to go through them, making a list of who I had to call back in order of importance.
I was in the middle of the list when my phone rang.
“Webster and Steinberg, Krissy Jensen speaking.”
“I thought we'd had an understanding.”
I froze. There was no way in hell that the voice on the other end of my phone was DeVon Ricci.
“You were supposed to be in my office this morning, not back in New York, pissing your life away as a divorce attorney.”
“What do you want?” I kept my voice low, not wanting anyone around me to think that I was talking to a client so rudely.
“I believe I made that quite clear,” he said. “I want you.”
I swallowed hard and shifted in my seat. He shouldn't have been able to make those three words, which were intended professionally, sound so sensual.
“I enjoyed our little games.”
My temper flared. “Games? You think it's funny playing with people like that? I'm not about to work for someone who manipulates people like some sort of demented puppet-master. People aren't toys for your amusement, jackass.”
He was silent for a minute and I thought that maybe I'd gone far enough that he'd back off. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
“How about I sweeten the deal?”
My eyebrows shot up. Was he serious? That's how he responded to me being rude?
“You'll have your own office with your own PA. I'll personally oversee your training and slowly assign clients to you as I see you're ready.”
“Why me?” I asked the question that had been nagging at the back of my mind since I'd gotten the offer. “Why in the world would you make an offer like this to someone like me? I have no experience, no qualifications.”
“You're a Columbia graduate who passed the bar,” he said. “I wouldn't sell yourself short.”
Now he was just making fun of me. “I don't have any experience in your field. The legal department, sure, but not as an agent.”
“You're more than qualified,” he said. “Compared to most agents, you're overqualified. Your contract skills will help you when you're negotiating with clients and production companies. Rather than needing a lawyer to look over everything, you'll be able to do it all on your own.”
Okay, he had a point there, but if that was the case, why didn't he only hire lawyers?
He answered my question without me having to ask it. “That's one reason, but you have other qualities that make you a valuable asset in an agent position. You have people skills and intuition. Those combined with your legal skills are a lethal cocktail.”
I had to admit, I was relieved that he had good reasons to want to hire me, but I was still wary. The perks were appealing, the location ideal and as much as I loved straight law, the position sounded like a lot of fun. I just wasn't sure I could handle having him as my boss. It would've been hard enough if I'd been in the legal department under Mr. Duncan, but now Mr. Ricci was saying he'd be training me directly.
“You have nothing to lose,” he said. “Give it a week and if you don't like it, start looking somewhere else. No hard feelings.”
I closed my eyes. Carrie's advice floated back to me. If I turned him down without at least trying, I'd never be able to stop wondering 'what if.'
“Okay.”
“Excellent.”
I could almost hear the smug smile.
“You start on Monday.”
“Wait, I can't,” I protested. “I have to put in a notice, give Mimi time–”
“I've already taken care of it,” he said. “You'll spend today and tomorrow dividing up your work and getting other associates and paralegals up to speed. I expect to see you in my office at eight a.m. first thing next week.”
“Oh, okay.” I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say to that. “I'll see you then, Mr. Ricci.”
“It's DeVon,” he said before the call ended.
I sat, staring at the phone for almost a full minute. DeVon. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
14
Sunday morning came much too fast. I was eager to start my new job, but there had been so much to do between Thursday morning when I'd accepted the offer and the day my flight left. And, of course, the hardest of all of it was saying good-bye to Carrie.
We'd already been planning to spend Friday night and all day Saturday together, then start moving her things on Sunday so that Monday after work, she'd go straight to Gavin's place. Correction, I thought, her and Gavin's place. Now our last weekend together had not only been spent finishing her packing but doing mine as well. The sight of our apartment looking bare had bothered me more than I'd thought it would.
I made sure I kept up a cheerful conversation as Carrie drove me to the airport, but I didn't think she was fooled. I was trying very hard not to cry. Her eyes were already shining with tears when she parked the car and turned towards me.
“I can't believe you're leaving,” Carrie said. “For the past six years, no matter what's happened, I've known I could count on you.”
“You can still count on me,” I said.
“But it's not the same,” she replied. “It was going to be weird enough to be moving four blocks away and not seeing you at work, but at least you would've been close enough that if I needed you, you were right there.”
“And if you need me, I'll be back here in a heartbeat.” Tears were burning against my eyelids. “Night or day, if you need me, call and I'll come.”
Her tears spilled over and she grabbed me in a fierce hug. I squeezed my eyes shut as I hugged her back, telling myself that I'd promised not to cry. If I cried, it'd just make her cry harder, and I'd never leave. Carrie had been my best friend, my sister, from the moment she'd
walked into our dorm room, all mousey and quiet with her Southern accent. And now everything was changing.
Reluctantly, I pulled back. “I have to go. I can't miss my plane... again.”
She chuckled and sniffled, wiping the backs of her hands across her cheeks. “I'll make sure the movers don't drop anything when they come tomorrow.”
“I just hope I have an apartment by the time they get to LA,” I said, trying for a smile. “Living out of a moving truck probably isn't as glamorous as it sounds.”
I got the smile I wanted.
“Gavin and I will come visit soon,” Carrie said.
“You better.” I gave her a wicked grin. “I would say if you don't, I'd have to come spank you both, but you'd like that.”
Carrie's face turned bright red. “I never should have told you about that.”
Before the mood could get serious again, I climbed out of the car and pulled my bag out of the backseat. This one was bigger than the one I'd taken before since I knew I'd be at least four or five days without the rest of my wardrobe. I was going to be making a lot, but I didn't have it now to spend on extra clothes.
I spent most of the flight trying to plan what I was going to do when I landed, but every time I started, another memory from my time in New York would make its way forward, reminding me of what I was leaving behind.
The time Leslie, Dena, Carrie and I had crashed a wedding at some museum. Carrie would've remembered which one. What I remembered was the four of us running from the security guards, carrying our heels and laughing so hard we almost got caught. That had been my idea, a dare for Leslie that had somehow turned into all four of us doing it.
Meeting Leslie and Dena for the first time.
The nights we'd stay in eating ice cream and watching chick-flicks.
Getting a call at two in the morning from a broken-hearted Dena when her high school sweetheart died in a car accident. We'd all gone and stayed with her for two days.
The Fridays after work when we'd go to a bar or club to unwind after a long week.
Forcing Carrie to go talk to the hottie at the bar and then seeing how happy she was with him.
By the time I arrived at LAX, I was emotionally wrung out. No one was waiting for me this time, which wasn't surprising since I hadn't told anyone when I was coming in, but I was glad. I didn't want to have to pretend to put on a happy face, even for a company driver.
I stood with everyone else who was trying to get a cab and when I got in, I gave the driver the address to Hotel Hollywood. I'd considered going back to the hotel where the company had put me up, but they cost three hundred and fifty dollars a night, even in their least expensive room. Since I wasn't sure how many nights I was going to stay, I'd opted for something nice, but less expensive. My first paycheck wouldn't be coming until the end of the month, and while that would take care of any financial issues, right now I only had my savings, which was enough for a deposit and the first couple months rent.
I hadn't really had time to start looking at places, but at least the cost didn't seem too much different than New York. Back home – back in the city, I corrected myself – I'd needed a roommate because I hadn't been making enough to afford a place of my own. Here, with my much larger salary, I could afford it, but I didn't know if I wanted to. I'd never lived alone. I'd gone from my parents' house to rooming with Carrie at Columbia to rooming with her in our apartment. I was afraid that living by myself would be too quiet.
Maybe I'd find a two bedroom and then start looking for someone who wouldn't mind my mess. Maybe I could even offer a lower portion of the rent if she kept the place clean. That way, I wouldn't need to worry about it or have to feel guilty for not doing it. I allowed myself a small smile. That was a brilliant idea.
The hotel was nice, nothing too fancy, but not some one-night place that people traveling used as a place to sleep before moving on. I could be comfortable here while I looked for apartments over the next couple days. My stuff would arrive probably on Wednesday or Thursday and I didn't want to have to rent a storage unit, so I'd probably be spending the rest of the day looking for places to visit after work tomorrow.
I didn't really have much to unpack, but by the time I was done, I was starving. I'd been so worked up this entire weekend, I hadn't eaten a lot. I wasn't sure if Sunset Plaza was close enough to walk to, but I could get a cab. I frowned. I didn't want to risk running into Taylor. He'd been polite when we'd parted ways, but that had been before I'd found out that he'd been paid to flirt with me. I wasn't sure how I'd react if I saw him.
Fortunately, I'd spotted a small café down the street when I'd arrived. That looked as good a place as any. After the long flight, I was glad to stretch my legs and I let myself enjoy the late afternoon sunshine, reminding myself of the gray skies in New York when I'd left.
As I walked, for the first time, I noticed the homeless people begging on the sidewalk. Being from Chicago and New York, this wasn't exactly something I hadn't seen before. Here, it made a bit more sense than it did in either of those other cities. Here, at least, the weather was almost always nice, plus there were plenty of tourists. I usually limited my interactions to working soup kitchens around the holidays, but today, I dropped a five dollar bill into the box that sat in front of an older man. He had a large beard and a long, thin face. He kind of looked like a guy I'd seen playing Jesus on a movie once.
“Go get yourself some lunch,” I said with a smile.
“God bless you, child,” he said as he picked up the bill.
I continued on my way, occasionally dropping some change and a couple one dollar bills as I went. I knew I couldn't afford to do this every day, and I couldn't give all of them five dollars, but at least I could help a little. By the time I reached the café, the smile was staying and I was feeling much better. I still missed New York and my friends, but I could see a good life here. A new job. A new place. New friends.
DeVon's face flashed through my mind.
A new boss.
My stomach clenched. There was that, too. A new boss who pissed me off... and maybe turned me on.
My phone rang, interrupting my less-than-welcomed thoughts. I looked down at the screen. Mom. Damnit. I'd been ignoring her calls all weekend. I hadn't told her about my interview in LA and I had no clue how to tell her that I'd already moved here. DeVon had said to give it a week, but I knew the chances of me quitting were slim. Jensens didn't quit.
I sighed. I had to talk to her sometime, and at least a conversation with her would distract me from what I'd been thinking.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Krissy Marie Jensen, have you been avoiding my calls?”
I winced. Mom didn't yell or even raise her voice. When she was pissed, her voice got quieter. She was barely speaking above a whisper right now.
“I'm sorry, Mom. I've been really busy with work.” That, at least, was the truth.
“You and your father,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder how he ever found the time to contribute to your conception.”
I closed my eyes and resisted the urge to say that the last thing I wanted to think about over a meal was my conception.
“I tried calling him to see what you were up to, but he didn't even take my call. Some big new case, I supposed. Amelia said I was being too sensitive. She always says I'm too sensitive.”
And now we'd moved from complaining about my father to complaining about her newest lover. My mom had 'discovered herself' when I was about eleven or twelve, but she and my dad managed to hold it together until I was thirteen. Sometimes I thought it was because he was usually so busy with his law firm that it had taken him that long to realize that his wife was a lesbian. Not that I'd ever asked. That was one of my top “conversations never to have with my parents.”
“So, darling, I need to know if you're planning on coming home for Thanksgiving. Your father will be working, I assume, but Amelia wants to bring her parents over to meet you.”
I didn't mention that I'd never m
et Amelia myself. The last of my mother's girlfriends I'd met had been Summer, and that had been six months and two lovers ago. My mom's a bit high-maintenance. Not in the money sense, because she had all the money. When your dad's a big-shot lawyer pulling in six figures easy and he's the 'poorer' parent, that's saying something. Mom was old money. Her great-great-grandfather, or something like, that had struck gold or oil and moved the family up in society. At least, that was the story the family told. I personally suspected we were descended from some gangsters who'd gotten rich during Prohibition and then invested wisely. Again, a conversation to avoid.
“Krissy?” My mom repeated my name.
“Sorry, Mom,” I mumbled. “I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it home for Thanksgiving.”
“And why not?” Back to her quiet voice.
“Because I have a new job and I don't know what days I get off.”
“Honey, the flight's only a couple hours and I'd be happy to pay for it.”
“I don't want your money, Mom,” I said the sentence automatically. I'd been saying it since I'd graduated from high school. My parents had insisted on paying for college, and that wasn't one I argued about much, but everything else had been me. I didn't want anyone saying I'd gotten to where I was riding my parents' coattails, and I didn't want anyone trying to suck up to me just because my parents were rich. “And it's not a couple hours.”
“Sure it is.”
I took a deep breath. “My new job's in LA, Mom. I'm not in New York anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
Wow. That was the quietest I'd ever heard her. “I took a job in LA. In fact, I just moved out here today.”
“Does your father know about this?”
My parents had stayed amicable after the divorce, but things tended to get a little ugly if I told Dad something and not Mom. Dad didn't care. He was happy with what I gave him, when I gave it, and concentrated on his work the rest of the time. I wasn't sure which annoyed me more.
“No, Mom. It happened really fast.”