Practice Makes Perfect

by Carsen Taite

  He was gone within seconds, and Meg slid into the seat beside Campbell. “Shall we get started?” she asked. “First item on the agenda is a question. Does anyone have dibs on that apple fritter?” Before anyone could answer, Meg reached across Campbell and plucked the fritter from the box while Campbell playfully beat her arm.

  Wynne stared at the two of them, certain she was witnessing a layer of intimacy that went well beyond any kind of working arrangement. Had Campbell suggested Meg for the job because she was in a relationship with her? Did Braxton know? Her earlier irritation soared to new heights, and it took all her self-restraint not to pick up her things and go.

  “What about you, Wynne? Not a fan of the donut?”

  “Oh, she’s a fan,” Campbell said, “but I neglected to pick up the right kind. Won’t happen again.”

  Wynne heard the trace of flirtation in Campbell’s tone, but it only confused her again. Did she flirt with everyone? Why did that disappoint her? She shrugged it off. She wasn’t here for donuts or flirting or anything else that wasn’t related to defending Braxton’s company from a lawsuit. Her firm had been here first, and they would still be handling Braxton’s business long after Campbell, her pink box of goodies, and this tall, beautiful private investigator were long gone. Time to focus on business. “Glad to hear it. I actually have to be at another appointment later this morning. How about we get started?”

  * * *

  Campbell watched Wynne carefully. She was confused by her sudden change of mood when Meg came in, but she cared more about having the advantage in this case than she did about Wynne’s discomfort. Or did she? The whole donut conversation had been strange. Who didn’t like donuts? But when they’d finally relaxed into it, it was actually the first time she thought she and Wynne might get along. Until Braxton came in the room. Was Wynne really so concerned that any display of humanity would jeopardize her ability to keep Braxton’s business? If that was the case, then perhaps the real question was whether she should take advantage of Wynne’s vulnerability.

  She didn’t want to. She wanted to get along and win the case on her own merits, not by tearing someone else down. And the more time she spent with Wynne, the harder it was to deny their attraction, which made it even more difficult to treat her like any other competitor. But only one firm was going to come out on the winning side after this case. If she had to, could she make the difficult choice?

  Too many questions. She needed to work all this out, but now was not the time. She squared her shoulders and assumed what she hoped was a serious, ready to get to work expression. “Meg, I’m not sure what Brax told you about the case so far, but basically Rhea Hendricks is suing Leaderboard, claiming a bunch of bogus causes of action boiled down to a claim that the site damaged her popularity and her chance at work in Hollywood. Our goal is to show that any damage to her popularity was her own doing. The site uses an algorithm to determine who makes the board, and Hendricks wasn’t fulfilling the criteria.” She turned to Wynne. “Does that about sum it up?”

  Wynne looked surprised to be asked, but she recovered quickly. “Mostly. The drawback is that we don’t want to get in a position where the only defense we have is to reveal the algorithm, because it’s proprietary. If that’s our only choice, then Leaderboard may as well file bankruptcy because there will be a dozen copycat sites out within days, not to mention it will tank the pending stock offering.”

  “So basically, we need to assassinate Rhea Hendricks’s character,” Meg said.

  “Well, assassinate is a strong word,” Campbell said. “More like articulate other legitimate reasons why she fell in the standings.”

  “Assassinate is okay with me,” Wynne said. “Braxton is counting on a win. Whatever it takes.”

  Campbell stared at Wynne. She’d expect a hyper aggressive approach from Stoltz, but coming from Wynne, the forceful push surprised her. “How about this? You gather whatever information you can, and then we’ll decide on the best approach?” She started to ask Wynne if that was okay by her, but she didn’t want to hash out their different approaches in front of Meg.

  They spent the next hour going over the list of potential witnesses she and Wynne had made of people they wanted Meg to interview. Meg made copious notes, and thank God, spent minimal time flirting. Meg’s persistent and widespread charm was the primary reason she and Campbell had never developed a relationship past a couple of dates and a few shared sleepovers. It wasn’t that Campbell was jealous, but she liked her dates to be focused on her instead of scanning the room like she had a serious case of fear of missing out. Despite the fact they no longer spent any intimate time together, Meg was the first name that came to mind when Braxton had asked her who she wanted to hire as an investigator. The same skills she used to seek out the next best thing in her personal life served Meg well when she was hunting down witnesses and schmoozing to get them to open up to her.

  When they wrapped up their session, Campbell and Wynne packed up their files. Campbell was reaching into her bag, when Meg touched her arm. “Are you busy tonight? I’d love to catch up and I owe you a nice tequila.”

  “Someone has a good memory,” Campbell said.

  “I make it a point to remember important things.”

  Campbell heard the sound of a throat clearing and turned in time to see a frown on Wynne’s face before she looked back down at the file in front of her. “Actually, I need to work tonight. I’ll catch you later.” She watched while Meg walked out of the room and waited until the door shut behind her before addressing Wynne. “Sorry about that. Meg’s a great investigator, but an outrageous flirt.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Does it bother you?”

  Campbell rankled at the edge in Wynne’s voice. “Answering a question with a question. Nice.”

  “My question is valid. If your…friend’s flirtation is going to be a distraction, perhaps that’s something you should’ve considered before you hired her to work on this case. Or maybe you owed her a favor?”

  Campbell bit back a sharp retort. She knew when she was being baited, and she wasn’t going to fall for it. Was it possible that Wynne was jealous of the attention Meg had laid on thick? “I didn’t hire her. Braxton did. And as for distractions, nothing gets me off task when I have a goal in sight.”

  Wynne looked up, finally, and her gaze was penetrating. “I’ll make a note of that.”

  “Good.” Campbell said, unsure how to read Wynne’s response. “I do plan to work on my half of the discovery responses tonight. Would you care to join me so we can knock them out together?”

  Wynne pulled in her lower lip like she was thinking about it, but she shook her head. “I have other plans tonight.”

  “Hot date?” The words tumbled out before Campbell could stop them, but once they were out she held her breath for the response.

  Wynne stood and shoved her papers into her bag. “Don’t worry. I’ll get my part of the work done. I’ll email you my draft tomorrow.”

  Before Campbell could reply, Wynne was out the door. Campbell looked down at her notes. She had a ton of work to do and she needed to focus, so it was just as well that Wynne hadn’t taken her up on her offer. She packed her briefcase and then stared at the last, lonely donut in the bright pink box. Telling herself it wouldn’t do to let Brax see that any of his sister’s donuts had been left behind, she wrapped it in a napkin for a midafternoon snack. Oh, who was she kidding. It would be gone before she reached her car.

  * * *

  Wynne dialed Seth’s number, put her phone in the cup holder, and pulled out of the parking lot while it was dialing.

  “Hey, girl, how’re you doin’?”

  She smiled at the sound of his happy voice. Exactly what she needed. “Better now.”

  “You sound like you’re in a tunnel. Do you have me on your phone speaker?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “When are you going to get a car with a Bluetooth? The nin
eties called, and they want their flip phone back.”

  Normally, his teasing didn’t bother her, but today it was like nails on a chalkboard. “I called you for advice, but I’m hanging up now.”

  “No, don’t hang up. Is it about Lane? Because she mentioned that you had a date and all systems were go.”

  “I’m not even sure what that means,” she said, surprised at his announcement since she would’ve ruled the first date no more than a four on a ten-point scale, and she certainly hadn’t gotten any different vibe from Lane.

  “I’m pretty sure it means she liked you. Did you like her back?”

  “Next you’re going to pass me a note and have me check off boxes.”

  “Or you could just tell me.”

  She wasn’t quite sure how to approach this topic with him, having never called him with girl trouble before, and now that he’d brought up Lane, she didn’t think she wanted to get into her whole day, including how agitated she’d gotten while watching Meg flirting with Campbell. “It was fine. She’s nice.”

  “‘Fine’? Ouch. She said she asked you out again, but you turned her down.”

  “I told her I had to work.”

  “You have a right to have a life, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Then have one. Seriously, Wynne, billable hours aren’t the only thing the partners consider when it comes time for promotion. Lane is on her way up and she’s really well-connected at the firm.”

  “Are you telling me I should date her as a way to make partner?”

  “Of course not, but I am suggesting that if you won’t go outside the firm to have a personal life, then you could find one within that might make your professional life a whole lot easier to handle too.”

  His point echoed the exact same thought she’d had during her mediocre first date with Lane, but what he wasn’t considering was what would happen to that professional life if she and Lane didn’t work out. Things could get messy. Of course, she was borrowing trouble she didn’t have. It was a big firm, and this was just a date. All she had to do was keep it casual. And it would be a way to keep her mind off of Campbell.

  After she hung up with Seth, she contemplated her options. She could work alone. She could call Campbell and tell her she’d changed her mind. Or she could go out with Lane. If she tried to work tonight, alone or with Campbell, she’d only be distracted. Before she could change her mind, she pulled over and sent a text to Lane.

  Is it too late to take you up on the offer for tonight?

  She waited a few minutes for the buzz of an incoming text, but nothing happened. She started to pull back into traffic, but just then her screen lit up.

  Eddie V’s. Eight o’clock.

  Wynne stared at the screen, trying to decide if she was attracted to the commanding nature of the text or put off by it. Before she could think it to death, she thumbed out a quick response. See you there.

  She hoped she wasn’t making a big mistake.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wynne walked up to the hostess stand, but she spotted Lane already seated in a booth and told the hostess she’d find her own way. She took a deep breath and walked across the room, past tables of people engaged in lively conversation over decadent food. She’d been to Eddie V’s for client lunches, but never at night, and the atmosphere was decidedly more romantic than businesslike. Definitely a date spot.

  Lane’s head was bent over her phone, and she was typing furiously with her thumbs. Work, probably, which was exactly what she should be doing. Seth’s voice echoed in her head. A girl’s got to eat. Lane didn’t look up as she approached, and for a brief second Wynne wondered if she turned around and left would Lane even notice? She swallowed the thought and strode to the table. “Either you’re writing the great American novel or there’s a crisis at work.”

  Lane kept typing while she looked up and flashed a dazzling smile. “It could be both.”

  “True. Now that would make a good story.”

  “Are you going to sit down?” Lane’s thumbs were still moving. “I swear I’ll be finished in just a second.”

  “If you need to bag on me, I totally get it,” Wynne said. “Believe me, I understand.”

  “I have no doubt you do, but I have no intention of bagging.” Lane typed a few more strokes, and then set her phone on the table face down. “All done. Now join me or I’ll start to get a complex.”

  Wynne slid into the booth, taking in the fact Lane already had a glass of wine. She tried for a teasing tone. “I see you’ve started without me.”

  “Just warming up.”

  Lane waved to the waiter and signaled for him to bring two more of what she was drinking. The presumptive act annoyed Wynne, but she chalked it up to Lane’s strong personality. “Have you been here long?”

  “About ten minutes. I figured I’d use the time to check in with my mother. She had surgery yesterday, and I knew it was only a matter of time before one of my siblings pointed out that I hadn’t been in touch.”

  “Surgery? Is she okay? Does she live here in town? Do you need to go see her?”

  Lane leaned forward and whispered. “Face lift and a tummy tuck.”

  Wynne stared, hoping her face was frozen in a mask of the concern she’d felt a moment ago. She felt stupid for all her questions now and wished she could reel them back in. Not that a woman didn’t have a right to have plastic surgery, but having a mother who had that kind of discretionary income was so far out of her sphere of understanding that she couldn’t comprehend. Wynne considered all the things she might do for someone who had just had surgery—make a casserole, bake some cookies. Not exactly appropriate for someone who’d just tried to eliminate the effects food had on their body. She settled on a simple, “I hope she heals quickly.”

  “Oh, she’ll be up and around in no time. It’s not her first time under the knife.”

  Lane waved her hand in the air as she talked as if mothers having plastic surgery was no big deal, and her nonchalance caused Wynne to think about her conversation with her father. She’d transferred the money as she’d promised, tempted to include more than usual in hopes it would be enough to tide them over for longer, but she knew better. Extra money would only open up new ways to part with it. A surefire home-based business, a penny stock on the verge of splitting, or something else that was guaranteed to be the “next big thing.” Whatever it was, they would promise that their financial moves were calculated to build a nest egg and pay her back, with interest. She almost wished they would blow their money on something like plastic surgery because at least then they’d have something to show for it.

  The waiter appeared with their wine, and Wynne took a deep drink to wash away the funk that always came from any interaction with her parents, so she could focus on her date. The wine was good, and she felt bad for her earlier irritation that Lane had taken control. “This is nice.”

  “It is, isn’t it? I bought a case of this when I was in Napa last year, as well as a few bottles of the extra reserve. I should’ve bought more. Last time I checked Winebid, it was selling for four times what I paid, and I didn’t exactly get it at a bargain. Have you been to Napa?”

  Wynne had never heard of Winebid, and she was still processing Lane’s wine math, but she struggled to catch up. “No. I can’t remember the last time I went on a vacation.”

  “Oh, you really should. Napa’s great, but I like Santa Barbara much better. There’s this sweet little Danish town, Solvang, which is a perfect home base. You definitely want to hire a driver for the wineries—it’s the best way to really enjoy your time there. I was thinking it might be a fun getaway for the weekend. I can’t do it this weekend, but maybe next?” She pointed at her menu. “The portions are huge here. How about we start with the ahi tuna appetizer, and then are you okay sharing the misoyaki? I already had them put a bottle of Veuve on ice.”

  Wynne’s head started spinning. Had Lane just asked her to go away for the weekend? She replayed Lane’s words s
everal times and decided that she had indeed asked her to go to Santa Barbara, although ask probably wasn’t the right word considering she hadn’t waited for an answer before plunging into an elaborate micromanagement of their meal. She thought back to the text Lane had sent her, not asking, but telling her where they would have dinner without bothering to find out if Wynne even liked seafood which is what Eddie V’s was known for.

  But it wasn’t just their meal Lane was managing. Wynne had a strong sense Lane was used to handling all the women she dated. Not cool. Not cool at all. Her irritation grew as she imagined a weekend away, captive in wine country, with Lane telling her what wine she should drink, where they would stay, which wineries to visit, and God knows what else while she droned on about her mother’s plastic surgery or some other nonsense. Wynne shifted in her seat, agitated at the prospect of spending another minute in Lane’s company. Desperate to escape, she pushed her wine glass a few inches away and made a show of touching her forehead. “I hate to say this,” she lied, “but I have a colossal headache. Guess I shouldn’t have skipped lunch,” she said, ending on an honest note.

  “Oh no,” Lane said, her voice laced with concern. “We should get you something to eat.”

  She held her hand in the air to signal the waiter, but Wynne tugged on her arm. “I think I might have passed that point. I think I just need to lie down.”

  “Of course. I’ll drive you home.”

  Wynne’s gut twisted. She hadn’t planned this escape very well. “No, please stay. I can make it home. I think I just need a good night’s sleep.” She stood. “Please, I insist.”

  Lane didn’t offer again, and although Wynne was glad, she filed away the fact under reasons why Lane was the center of her own universe. Wynne offered to pay for her wine, but Lane declined and Wynne didn’t push the point.

  When she left the restaurant, there was a nice breeze—unusual for a summer night—and she was grateful she wouldn’t spend the next couple of hours hearing all the extravagant details of Lane’s super cool life. She slipped behind the wheel of her ten-year-old Honda Accord and contemplated her options. Work was definitely on the table, but the office was out of the question on the off chance Lane decided to stop back by. Work at home it was. She started the engine and glanced at the dashboard clock, surprised to see it was still early. Before she could contemplate the complexities of what she was about to do, she turned in the direction of Campbell’s office and dialed her cell.