CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ERIC
“So then I said, who do I look like, fucking Spielberg? And he said yes, that cheeky fuck! It was hilarious. Man, you had to be there. Next time I go to dinner with those boys, Eric, I’ll give you a call. They’ll all need someone like you on retainer, I’m sure.” David wipes his eyes, finding his own terrible story hilarious.
They all do. All their stories are uninteresting and pathetic. All their stories revolve around being compared to someone else famous, someone clearly better than them, like a massive penis competition. Who has the bigger ego? Who has the bigger dick?
None of them. All their egos are as fragile as my old man’s hairline and their dicks are tiny. It’s why they cheat with young girls to begin with. They don’t know any better.
“Let me buy you dinner. Tonight.” David slams his palm down on my desk and jolts me out of the mental ass-beating I’m dishing out. “You look you could use a break, and maybe some pussy. One of my favorite spots? The girls, Eric! You wouldn’t believe the girls.”
I lean back in my very expensive leather desk chair and steeple my fingers before me. If I wore glasses, I’d take them off in a very dramatic fashion. Mental note: tell Sophie to order me some of those fake glasses Geoff always wears to court. They don’t make him look smarter, but they would be a nice accessory when dealing with dipshits.
“David.” I interrupt his stream-of-consciousness chatter about whatever club he wants to take me to. “I’m sure it’s swanky as hell. But we’ve talked about this shit.”
“But if my lawyer is with me.” David’s face splits in a stupid grin and he spreads his arms to match. He’s like a crucified glutton who looks completely content with his lot in life. “Who can say no? I’m just taking a friend out, having a good time…”
“Looks like bribery.” I don’t move from my stoic, steepled pose. This is my Fuck Off and Get Serious pose, and McArthur has seen a ton of it lately. “Looks suspicious. It makes me look cheap and you look broke.”
“I—” David’s jaw flaps a bit. “But we both know that ain’t true.”
“Perception is everything. Which is why you are instructed to lay low.”
“And I have been! I’ve been laid up in my big ass house, all alone. I mean, aside from the visitors, if you know what I mean.”
“Goddammit, David.” Pose broken. I massage a pulsating headache spreading across my temple. “You’re trying to claim that you still have an active marriage. If you can’t knock off this shit, the case is as good as dead. You thought I was kidding, man. I’ll put you on goddamn house arrest if I have to, because—”
A very loud, obnoxious ringtone kicks off from David’s pocket. Immediately, I want to throttle the guy into the atmosphere. He knows I have a very strict phone policy in my office. I lean across the desk and take it out of his pocket. It’s turned off in two seconds, cutting the sound dead.
“See this shit? You know this shit isn’t permitted in my office. You aren’t a petulant child, David. You’re thirty-six-fucking-years old. You are divorcing a beloved younger woman, who is widely known her for charity work and humanitarian efforts, because you can’t keep it in your pants.”
“I thought you said we were framing it as her having the affair.” David swipes his phone back and turns it on. “That’s what you said. Then I can look like I’m free.”
“Because you told me she cheated, David.” I say through clenched teeth. “You’ve been unable to provide any proof, which says you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie.” David holds his phone up at me like he’s going to reprimand me with it. I seriously consider snapping it in two pieces. “I suspected. She was always gone, you know? Sure, she said it was some charity gala or event planning, but she always came home late and was in such a good mood after. We stopped having sex. She sometimes wouldn’t even sleep in the same room. That screams affair, Eric. You just need to dig deeper.”
Or she was trapped in a miserable relationship with a selfish asshole and hated being at home. I shake my head slightly to ditch the thought. I can’t do this to myself. I can’t sabotage the entire case because I like to fuck his ex-wife.
“So, come with me to dinner and—” The phone rings again. David grins like an idiot and stands up, a finger in my face before he goes to pace across the length of my office floor. “Brad! How’s it going, baby? Did you get a chance to see the script? Sure, I can talk, I’m just with my lawyer. No, no. He can wait. I pay him enough to do what I say.”
At this, David shoots me a wink.
His pacing takes him to the windows at the front of my office, with a great view of the city. He stands there, blabbing and bragging about some movie he’s putting together, disrespectful as fuck. I swear to God, he acts like I have no other clients. Like he’s the singular most important thing in my life right now.
Well, fuck ‘im.
Screw him. Overwhelmed with anger at him, I stealthily unzip my pants and pull my dick out under my desk. After a quick glance his way to make sure he’s still acting like an ape, I pull up the file of Kate’s topless photos on my laptop and two clicks later have a pretty solid hard-on. It’s stupid the shit this girl does to me. She takes my mind off my stress and makes me do crazy shit.
Fucking her at her apartment did not pull her out of my system like I’d hoped. If anything, it sank me deeper, which is quickly becoming dangerous. For the moment, though, it paid off in spades.
I snap a quick shot of my dick in my hand, painfully thread it back into my pants, and send it to Kate with a quick note:
David is here. Thinking of you.
She’ll probably hate me for it. Women are so finicky about the dick pick. If they’re horny, they’re happy for it. If they aren’t, they get pissed. It’s walking a fine line I don’t usually have time to figure out.
David turns and gives me a thumbs up and goes back to pacing, along with a series of hand motions I assume is supposed to let me know he’s wrapping up soon. My hate for this guy grows daily.
He finally says goodbye and plops back in my chair just as my phone lights up. I grab it before he can look and have to steady myself. Kate sent back a picture of her draped in nothing but a towel, a little leg poking out. It is one of the sexiest poses I’ve seen her in.
“What’s so good over there?” David asks, leaning in. He’s like a goddamn dog with a nose that can sniff smut out.
“Oh, nothing. Some sex tape news about that hotel heiress—”
“London Holton? Eric, that girl can lay down some pussy. We were in Verona once for a shoot.”
He launches into his story and it takes all I have to not hurl my phone in his face. Instead, I flick my dick under my desk until the erection dies. This whole thing is a goddamn nightmare and it’s all his fault.