Practice Makes Perfect

by Carsen Taite

  “I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight,” Campbell said without preamble.

  “Are you still working?”

  “I am.”

  “Great. I have some ideas. I’m headed your way. We can talk when I get there. See you in a minute.”

  Wynne started to click off the line, but Campbell yelled, “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “Where exactly are you headed?”

  “Your office. Why?”

  “Because I’m at my house.”

  “Oh, well, never mind. We can talk tomorrow.” Wynne wished she’d ignored her earlier impulse and just gone to her own house in the first place.

  “Nonsense. My place isn’t far from the office. I’ll text you the address.”

  Campbell hung up before Wynne could respond, and once again she was left contemplating her options. She could go home and work or go to Campbell’s and work. She didn’t spend long deciding. Work was work, and if she saw where the enemy lived, she might get some intel on how to take her down. Wynne heard her phone buzz with an incoming text and made her decision on the spot.

  Campbell’s house was a cute Craftsman, not much bigger than her own bungalow and not far from hers either. It was cornflower blue with yellow shutters and a wraparound porch lush with a variety of plants. She wondered if like her house, Campbell’s had been in the family or if Campbell had paid the exorbitant prices that Austin transplants nonchalantly shelled out for housing. Wynne parked in the driveway and walked to the front door. She knocked and was surprised when the door immediately flew open, and she stood face-to-face with Campbell who was wearing a UT law school T-shirt and Nike shorts, keyword short.

  “Hello,” Campbell said, sweeping her arm in welcome. “Come in and get comfortable. Rule number one of being self-employed. You can work at home in your pajamas or your sweats whenever you want. Or at least whenever you don’t have client meetings.” She turned and starting walking back into the house. Wynne paused for a moment in the doorway, her gaze trained on Campbell’s toned, bare legs, wondering whether she’d made a mistake coming here. If the amount of time she was spending staring at Campbell’s legs was any indication, she should run in the opposite direction.

  Campbell popped her head around the corner, and Wynne jerked her head up to meet Campbell’s curious eyes.

  “Are you coming?” Campbell asked. “I made snacks. Tasty ones.”

  Wynne nodded. There was really no way to bow out gracefully now. Besides, she’d already ditched one woman tonight, and as a consequence, she was starving. “Lead the way.”

  Campbell’s kitchen was small but well equipped. A six-burner gas stove, a KitchenAid mixer, and various other expensive appliances gave the impression she was a consummate chef. Not what Wynne would have expected. She ran a finger along the edge of the candy apple red mixer.

  “Don’t you just love that magical machine? Justin gave it to me for my birthday two years ago when I told him I was going to start baking to relieve stress. Of course, I don’t know if it’s a good stress reliever because I’ve been too busy to use it. I found this recipe for profiteroles I want to try though. I’m committed to making that happen.”

  “You like to cook?”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am. A little. I mean…” Wynne didn’t want to finish the sentence now that she’d started. “I know you’re a donut eater in public, but in my experience, skinny people have refrigerators full of nonfat yogurt and lemon water. And kale. There’s always kale.”

  Campbell wrinkled her face. “Not a fan. Of kale, that is. I love yogurt, but the kind that comes in those cute little glass jars that I’m fairly certain contains all the fat that was removed from the creepy nonfat kind. What’s your secret?”

  “What?” The question threw Wynne who was busy being embarrassed at the fact she’d mentioned Campbell’s appearance again.

  “You have a killer body. Do you run or spin or what?”

  Wynne felt her ears warm and prayed the blush hadn’t spread to her face. “Coffee. I live on coffee. Black. It’s my superpower.”

  “Well, it does a good job.” Campbell’s gaze slowly scanned her from head to toe, and Wynne tried not to squirm under the inspection. “But tonight there will be kale-free snacks. I’m having wine to go with. Does that work for you?”

  Wynne’s mind traveled back to the restaurant where she’d left Lane sitting with two almost full glasses of wine on the table. Probably very expensive wine if Lane’s preferences were any indication. The idea of sharing wine with Campbell was so much more inviting. “That sounds perfect.”

  Campbell reached behind her and grabbed an open bottle of red. “I tried this at a local wine bar, Winebelly. It’s one of my favorite places, and the sommelier recommended this blend on my last visit. I loved it so much I bought a case.”

  “I love that place,” Wynne said. “It’s so cozy and inviting.”

  “I know, right? I spend way too much time there. I’m kind of surprised I’ve never seen you there.”

  “I’ve only been once, but it made a really good impression.” Wynne made a vow to go back to Winebelly sometime in the near future, and not with Lane.

  “So, how was your date?”

  “What?” Wynne wondered if Campbell had read her mind.

  “You said you were too busy to work tonight, remember? But you’re here kind of early, so I’m thinking that your hot date was a bust.”

  “There wasn’t a date.” Wynne figured there was truth enough in that statement since showing up at a restaurant and listening to Lane talk about her wonderful life until it gave her a headache shouldn’t count in the date column. But it wasn’t the whole truth, and she felt bad about fibbing, although she had no idea why she thought she had any duty to share the details of her evening with Campbell. Before she could think it through further, she blurted out, “That’s not true. I was on a date. Or it was supposed to be a date, but it wound up being a bust.”

  * * *

  Campbell had been half kidding when she mentioned Wynne’s plans for a hot date, but she couldn’t deny the sense of relief when Wynne said her date had been a bust. Play it cool. She reached for the tray of snacks and motioned for Wynne to join her in the living room. “Did you at least get to eat dinner?”

  “Not even. I feigned a headache before I was halfway through a glass of wine.”

  “Ouch. Well, I can fix the hunger part. Try this cheddar with this fig and olive cracker. It’s a flavor combo that will not only stave off hunger, but will make your heart sing.” Campbell watched while Wynne arranged the cheese on her cracker just so, and then crunched down on the creation, followed by a gentle moan. “See?”

  Wynne pointed at the rest of the cracker. “Perfection. I’m officially addicted after just one bite.”

  “Join the club.” Campbell took a sip of wine to gather courage before she plunged back into the subject of Wynne’s evening. “Was this a blind date?”

  If Wynne was surprised at the personal question, she didn’t show it. “Actually no. It wasn’t even a first date. We met for drinks once for a casual let’s meet and talk. Tonight was supposed to be the real date with dinner and stuff. All I got was a few sips of wine. Truly excellent wine that she insisted on ordering for me. I probably should’ve asked for a to-go cup.”

  Campbell wanted to ask about the “and stuff,” but she resisted the temptation. “Okay, so you’d already had some experience with her?”

  “Yes, but you know how sometimes you write off first impressions by telling yourself first times are usually awkward and that you should give things a bit more time before you give up on them?” She waited for Campbell to nod. “Not the case here.”

  “It was worse?” Campbell hoped she didn’t sound as pleased as she felt.

  “Uh, yes. Don’t get me wrong. This woman is beautiful, and on paper she’s the perfect catch, but she is well aware of all her attributes and she likes to talk about her wonderful life. A lot. I
t was a bit much.”

  Campbell tried not to focus on the “woman was beautiful comment,” and instead raised her glass. “But she has good taste in wine.”

  Wynne touched her glass to Campbell’s. “Yes, but so do you.”

  The comment hung in the air for a moment like it was buoyed by the weight of its implication, and they locked eyes for several long moments. Finally, Campbell cleared her throat and stood. “Speaking of wine, I could use a refill. Are you good?”

  Wynne held her gaze for another second. “I am surprisingly good, but I’d love another glass.”

  Campbell walked into the kitchen and opened the door to the fridge and stuck her head in to cool off. She didn’t need another glass of wine. What she needed was a distraction from the way her body reacted whenever Wynne was around. Before it had been easier because Wynne’s caustic personality was at odds with her wildly attractive vibe, but tonight she was drinking wine and eating cheese and crackers like a person who actually enjoyed life and might be fun to hang out with. Campbell knew she had to be careful not to fall into thinking they were anything other than rivals. She couldn’t afford to forget the future of her firm depended on winning Leaderboard’s business, and she owed it to Abby and Grace to remember where her loyalty belonged. Determined to stay on track, she poured a glass of ice water for herself and brought it along with Wynne’s refill to the living room. “Ready to get to work?” she called out as she walked into the room.

  Wynne was standing in front of the fireplace, looking at the pictures on the mantel. “Are these your parents?”

  “Yes,” Campbell said, avoiding eye contact. Fresh off Perry’s birthday dinner, her emotions were raw when it came to thinking about her folks. She pointed to the coffee table strewn with papers. “I made some notes about a motion for summary judgment. I think if we have a good plan of attack ready, we’ll know what questions we should ask at the depositions to support the motion, and then it’ll only be a matter of inserting the supporting facts to fit the legal arguments.”

  “Uh-huh. Sounds good.” Wynne set the frame back on the mantel. “Are you close?”

  “What?” Campbell struggled to follow. She saw Wynne glance back at the photo. It was one of her favorites, from when she was ten years old. Her parents had been dressed up for a Valentine’s Day date night, leaving her and Perry in Justin’s care for the evening, despite their protests. She remembered her dad telling her it was tradition to take the love of your life out on Valentine’s Day, and that one day she’d be dressing up for the same tradition. She sighed when she remembered that this past Valentine’s Day, she’d spent the evening eating takeout Chinese at the office, preparing for a deposition the next day. Thank God her dad couldn’t see how pathetic her love life had wound up becoming. “Yeah, we were a pretty close-knit family, but my parents died when I was in high school, so now it’s just me, Justin and our little sister, Perry. Still close, but I miss those two something fierce.”

  Wynne placed a hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  Campbell brushed away a tear. “You don’t have to be. They were great, and I’m lucky to have had parents who loved me no matter what and believed I could be anything I wanted to be or do anything I wanted to do, even if I didn’t have them for very long. Some people have parents who live forever but never love them the way my parents loved the three of us.”

  Wynne nodded like she was listening, but her eyes were hooded and she seemed distant. Fresh off baring her own soul, she risked a personal question of her own. “Are you close to your family?”

  Wynne turned sharply and her eyes narrowed for a second before a neutral mask fell into place. “We get along okay.” She walked back to the couch. “Care to share your notes?”

  Okay, so apparently there wasn’t going to be any reciprocity where personal issues were concerned. Campbell filed that nugget away and took a moment to arrange her papers into something resembling organization. “I’ve made a list of all the factors that go into the Leaderboard algorithm.” She pointed at the handwritten chart she’d composed. “The columns to the right represent the witnesses who should have testimony to offer to either support or disprove that particular factor.” She ran her finger down the page. “Check this out. This guy is Rhea Hendricks’s wedding planner.”

  “I knew she was engaged to Dash Wilder, but I didn’t realize they’d gotten to the wedding planning stage before they broke things off.”

  “Yep. She was all in on that relationship. And here’s the thing—Dash is still wildly popular. I’m thinking that when they broke up, her score on Leaderboard tanked because most of her connections were Team Dash. In fact, I think that once we get all the discovery responses, we’ll see that she took a hit across the board once news of their breakup went public.”

  “And the wedding planner is going to say what exactly?”

  “A wedding planner is a lot like a priest. They’re present during all the big decisions. What kind of ceremony to have, who to invite, how much money to spend—you get the point. He’s going to have some insight into whether or not Rhea was a bridezilla. If she was, you can bet there are other people she pissed off who in turn stopped connecting to her on Leaderboard. The more support we can show for why her Leaderboard connections were abandoning her, the easier it will be to assert that no matter what the algorithm was, she was losing popularity on the app simply as a reflection of her real life.”

  “How do you know so much about weddings?”

  “Say Yes to the Dress? Bridezillas? Whose Wedding Is It Anyway?” Campbell paused, waiting for some signal Wynne was following.

  “I feel like I’m supposed to know what you’re talking about, but I don’t have a clue.”

  “I’m guessing you don’t watch much reality television.”

  “Make that TV period. Who has time?”

  Campbell heard the undercurrent of judgment and took a breath before responding. “I think it’s important to be in touch with modern culture. Take this case for example. Are you on Leaderboard?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Uh, no. Seriously, it’s just a big popularity contest.”

  “Judgmental much? Yes, it’s a popularity contest, but popularity wins you influence, and clients, and success. I bet your firm makes you go to bar networking functions where you all stand around with watered down drinks and not great snacks, awkwardly jockeying for business referrals. Remove the bad drinks and snacks and you have Leaderboard. And bonus, you can make connections while in your pajamas if you want.”

  “You’re really into this whole pajama thing.”

  “You’re making fun of me.”

  Wynne smiled. “I’m not really. And you’re right about Leaderboard. I guess I just thought it was a place for all the popular people to fawn over each other.”

  “Have you even checked it out?”

  “Enough to learn the basics.”

  “Well, that’s not going to work. Someone needs a deep dive tutorial.” Campbell opened her laptop and set it between them. “Do you want to set up your own profile or do you want me to do it for you?”

  Wynne pushed the machine back toward Campbell. “I’m good.”

  “Ah, someone likes to shy away from the limelight.” Campbell nodded. “I get it. You like to be stealthy. That’s one approach and I respect it.” She watched relief flood Wynne’s eyes and decided she was on the right track. “How about I take you through my profile to give you a sample of what’s in store, and then you can decide if you want to jump into the Leaderboard pool on your own later?”

  At Wynne’s nod, she set the laptop back between them and entered the URL for the Leaderboard site into her browser. She looked at Wynne to see if she was following along, but Wynne’s eyes were fixed on her, not the computer, and they were smoldering. Campbell stared back, barely breaking their locked gaze to take in Wynne’s parted lips. They were red and full and lush, and Campbell suddenly had a strong desire to trace her tongue around Wynne’s tantalizing l
ips, and she started to lean in, but just as she did, Wynne jerked her head away and pointed at the screen.

  “You’re connected to Kevin Bacon? The actor?”

  “What?” Campbell said, scrambling to get her mind back in the game, but her heart was racing. Speaking of connections, had she just imagined that on the edge of a kiss moment? Had she imagined that Wynne felt it too? “Wynne, I—”

  “Are you dodging the question, counselor?”

  Campbell studied Wynne’s face, searching for any sign she hadn’t imagined the current that had passed between them, but Wynne wouldn’t meet her eyes. She wanted to ask Wynne if she was the one dodging things, but what if she was wrong and speaking up only made things between them weirder than they were already? Talk about awkward. She plastered on a smile. “I must confess that I do have a connection to Kevin Bacon. Justin made me go with him to a Bacon Brothers concert in Houston last summer. He had backstage passes, courtesy of his pals at ACL, and,” she raised her hand, “this hand got to shake Kevin’s. The rest is history.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Cross my heart. I doubt he remembers me. He probably only accepted my request to connect because of Justin.”

  “That’s a great story.” Wynne shook her head. “You’re not what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  Wynne shook her head, her cheeks showing a faint blush. “Never mind.”

  “Nope. There will be no dropping of comments like that without follow-up. Talk to me.”

  Wynne twisted her hands in her lap. “You were so popular in school, and you had such a tight group of friends. I guess there was a part of me that figured you had it easier than the rest of us, but it’s pretty clear you’re smarter than I ever gave you credit for, and now that I said that out loud, it sounded much more rational in my head. Can we just forget I said anything?”