CHAPTER TWO
Lori
I end my day job in the center of a file room of a law office that is established and respected, but unlike Cat’s husband, the partners here don’t want to grow. Therefore, they don’t need someone like me to be more than I am at present: a clerk. For now, that works for me. I don’t want to be at a firm that might represent my future when I can’t give all that I have to give to become a success. I simply can’t work eighty-hour weeks for a limited income to pay my dues right now. At least I’m learning with every case I research here and with Cat. I’m staying fresh. I’m staying ready to be on game when I return to Stanford. Or finish at NYU or whatever I have to do to just get that degree.
With the offices already dimmed, I store my garment bag in a closet at the back of the file room on my way out. I just don’t have it in me to carry it to Cat’s and then on the subway home tonight because while Cat lives near my workplace, my mother and I cannot afford a place anywhere near this neighborhood. I exit the building that is on the opposite side of the courthouse from Cat and Reese’s building, and start walking, dialing my mother as I do. She answers on the second ring.
“How are you?” I ask.
“Stop worrying about me,” she chides. “I’m feeling good.”
“It’s only your first week back to work,” I say. “I hate they put you back on night shift.”
“I’m just glad to be back,” she says. “It’s time for you to get back to you.”
“Not yet,” I tell her. “I’m working late.”
“You work early, and you work late,” she says. “We need to talk about you, daughter. We’re going to the next time I can actually get us in the same house.”
First Cat, and now my mother, I think. “I love you,” I say. “Let’s leave it at that for now, okay?”
“I love you, too,” she whispers. “So much, honey. I gotta go.”
She hangs up and I slide my phone into my oversized Coach handbag that serves as both briefcase and purse; a gift from my father when I started Stanford. It’s not a Louis Vuitton, he’d said. But it’s a start. You’ll have to buy the Louis with all the lawyer money you’ll make. He’d been a contractor, who’d worked us up to middle class New York City with a healthy college fund that made my partial ride to Stanford enough to get me in. Only we weren’t as well off as I’d thought. He’d died of a stroke six months before my mother’s stroke, which she is thankfully recovering from, and even with his life insurance, it left us nearly bankrupt. I start replaying those days in my head, and it’s not a good place for me. Not a good place at all. I’m strong, but every once in a while, like now, it’s quicksand, and I don’t even realize I’ve finished my walk until I’m standing in front of Cat and Reese’s building.
Inhaling, I mentally step out of that pit of hell. My father is gone. I can’t change that. My mother is healing. Another six months and I’ll get back to school, even if it’s not Stanford, and at least get a diploma. I run my hands over my black skirt, and ensure all is in order, tugging on my jacket for extra measure. Then I do what I do. I step out of one world and force myself into another. I open the door and enter the lobby, glancing at the time on my phone that tells me that I’m on time.
I cut right toward the bar and enter the dimly lit, rather cozy spot, that is usually a madhouse of attorneys and courthouse personnel, which is why Cat and I have never once visited together. At the present eight o’clock hour, however, it’s calm, only a cluster of random people scattered around the circular bar in cozy leather seats. Cat stands up from a corner table and motions me toward her. She’s dressed in a red suit dress, when a day at home for her usually means jeans.
I weave through tables, and I have no idea why, but I have butterflies. It’s Cat. This is my job. She’s my friend. Unless…she wanted to talk about my future and now she’s firing me. I almost laugh at myself. That’s insane. She’s not firing me. Where did that idea come from? And she certainly wouldn’t dress up to fire me or do it in public.
“Why are you all dressed up?” I ask, settling at the table with her.
“Because fifteen minutes ago, Reese called. He’s at dinner with the CEO of Mellatag and wants me to join him.”
“As in the CEO of the biggest tech company on the planet?”
“Yes. The same CEO that Reese represented when he was accused of murdering the CFO, when it turned out it was the CFO’s wife. He apparently finally decided he wants to write his story. He wants me to co-write it with him, but he’s headed out of the country and wants to see me now.”
“Oh. Well yay and this,” I say, gesturing between us, “can wait.”
“Except I have something to tell you and I couldn’t wait.”
“You’re firing me.”
She laughs. “What? No. Are you crazy? Why would I fire you? God. I wish I had time to find out why your head is in the place it’s obviously in right now. But instead, let me give you something better to think about.”
“What kind of better?”
“I have to talk fast so bear with me as I just rattle off a ton of information.” I nod, and she continues, “There’s a legal consortium that picks the brightest of the brightest to receive a full scholarship award. That includes school, living expenses, and a paid internship at one of the firms sponsoring the consortium. There’s a rotation between firms so you won’t get a choice. It’s like a draft of sorts. The process to get picked is rigorous, probably six months, but Reese is good friends with one of the key board members. We recommended you. They’re very interested in receiving your application.”
I blanch. I can’t breathe. Then I think I’m breathing too heavy. “I—it sounds wonderful and I’m honored, but I don’t think I could afford to take it. Living expenses in these types of programs usually aren’t enough and the internship is the same. Low pay. I can’t—”
“It comes with a lump sum of a hundred thousand dollars, split in half, at the beginning of the program and the end. And you only have nine months of school left.”
My hands flatten on the table. “Oh my God.”
“I know. It’s wonderful. They only pick one a year, though, but we’re going to make it you.”
“Surely they want to pay that hundred thousand out over three years, not nine months.”
“Actually,” she says. “The first reaction was really positive. They’d be investing in someone who has a proven track record at an Ivy League school, but they’d want you to finish at Yale so you’d be a short drive or train ride from the offices. I have more details, but I have to go.”
“Yes. Okay. Have I told you I love you?”
She smiles. “I love you, too, woman.” We stand up and she hugs me. “My mom died of a stroke,” she whispers in my ear. “My father almost did.” She leans back to look at me. “Soul sisters. We were meant to meet, and this opportunity is meant to happen to you. Eat dinner. On my tab, because I owe you for that research you did this morning. And take a to-go order to your mother.” She doesn’t wait for a reply. She rushes away.
For a moment, I just stand there taking it all in, and then I sink down on her side of the table, against the wall to allow myself to see the rest of the bar. A waiter appears, and I order a white russian, when I should order coffee. I don’t drink well. I’m too tired and too much of a light-weight. The waiter moves away, and I have no idea why, but my eyes lift across the bar, where a man is standing up to leave. The man with him, who I cannot see beyond a glimpse of an arm, rises to his feet as well, and they shake hands. They speak for a few moments that become a full minute, and my drink arrives.
I tear my gaze away, attending to the waiter, before lifting my beverage. The man I’d been watching, or I believe he is the same man, since I’d only seen his back, walks toward the door. For reasons I can’t explain, I set my drink down and my gaze slides back to the other man, only to have my eyes collide with his, my lips parting in shock. It’s the man from the street this morning. We sit there, staring across the room at each other for what could be seconds or perhaps a full minute before he stands up and starts walking toward me. I was wrong this morning. He’s not gone, and this isn’t over; it’s only just begun.