Early Fall, The Present

 

 

At two o’clock on a Friday afternoon, the Ace Hotel bar was empty. There were stragglers, people milling around the front desk, likely ready to leave the city, or get belly deep in it. Lily paid hardly any attention to anything or anyone except the sweating glass in her fingers, and how it left a wet ring on her skirt, and the traffic thickening around Carondelet Street as she looked out of the window.

She’d been asked to leave her job. Not forever. Not so that some other eager attorney could worm his way into the hallowed law offices of Landry and Simoneaux. No. It wasn’t that simple and just the recall of why her supervisor had explained Mr. Landry’s insistence that she take a few weeks off, made her feel sick.

She took another long shot of her bourbon. The heavy burn of the whiskey landed hard in her stomach but soon warmed her insides, made the shock of her life, the stupid, blinding unfairness of it all, seem like some wicked nightmare she’d wake up from just as soon as her glass emptied.

Another swig, and the ice clanked around the bottom of the glass.

“Nope,” she muttered to herself. “Still wide awake.”

There was a young bartender behind that long white oak counter and he smiled at Lily, hurrying to replace her empty glass with more bourbon when she nodded him over. He even winked at her when he handed her the glass, adding a methodical appraisal of her body that Lily pretended not to notice.

“Thanks, sugar.” She wasn’t flirting. She was sure the kid knew that. It was New Orleans, Lily’s home for the past five years, and in that time, she’d gotten accustomed to the culture. Endearments were marks of kindness and flirting was practiced with the same casualness other cities gave to general politeness—common courtesy with a wink, something babies and grannies all did. Lily didn’t want to sleep with the kid manning the bar, though, after a quick glance at his pretty tawny skin, wide shoulders and tiny waist, Lily couldn’t find a single reason why she’d kick that one out of her bed if he’d somehow landed there.

Oh. Right. Her career was in shambles. That was reason enough to not go home with a strange bartender no matter how cute he was.

Or maybe that was reason enough to do it.

Lily’s cell chimed, and she fished it out of her purse, adjusting in her chair just in front of the window and she spotted the fourth text Lincoln had sent her in the past hour.

I fought for you.

Lily was sure he had. Lincoln Wells had her back, or at least he pretended he did. But then, Lily was convinced he only championed her because he wanted her in his bed, and he was nowhere as cute as the bartender throwing smiles her way.

You always do. I appreciate that. She paused, wondering if that response was too familiar, if it opened her up for interpretation that might give Lincoln the wrong idea. He’d never quite gotten used to the idea that she didn’t want him. Mr. Wells didn’t do well with rejection, and one date with him had been one too many. She erased the message and retyped it. I know you did. I appreciate the back-up, buddy. There. That shouldn’t give him the wrong idea. She stuffed her cell inside her small bag and went back to sipping on her bourbon.

“He kept mentioning how this wasn’t your fault. More than once he reminded them about the stalker and that those photos were photoshopped,” Clara, the partners’ legal assistant had mentioned to Lily before she left the office. Clara was professional, but as an assistant, she wasn’t bound by certain confidentiality agreements. At least, not when the meetings were informal and the partners discussing those damn photos and how the entire situation bugged Landry, had made the meeting this morning “off the record.” But Clara heard them. It was hard not to. Old Landry’s hearing was going. He shouted more than he spoke. Clara frequently gave Lily a head’s up about where the partners were meeting for lunch or what bottles of Scotch the partners preferred. Lily made her Christmas purchases accordingly. It helped to have someone on the inside. Especially when things were rough and by God, things were the roughest.

“Maybe you should get a lawyer,” Clara had told Lily after the partners had left for lunch. She’d pulled Lily into the copy room, whispering details of Landry’s complaint. “I don’t think they’ll fire you, how could they? You haven’t done a damn thing to warrant this, but you know, just to cover your own back.”

“Doesn’t seem to matter, does it?” She’d leaned a hip against the copier, moving her head toward the door to see if anyone was approaching. “I’m a woman working against an entire office of Neanderthals. We all want to make partner. Can’t do that if the old men upstairs think you’re fucking random people and having pictures taken in the process.”

“But this hasn’t gone beyond the office.” Clara stepped closer and kept her voice quiet. “I don’t think it’s gone beyond the fifth floor, actually.”

“Doesn’t mean they won’t find out.” Lily appreciated Clara’s pat on her back and the information she’d given her. Scrubbing her temples Lily had tried organizing her thoughts, getting together the details to plead her own case, as much as she could. She’d stared back at Clara, eyes searching, as she filtered through options. “They mention when they’d talk to me?”

“After lunch.” Clara straightened, let her hand fall to her side. “That’s why I told you now. In case you wanted to call someone. Have someone…”

“No,” Lily answered, adjusting her skirt before she reached for the door just behind Clara. “I can handle it. Whatever they dish out. I know the law and I know I didn’t do a damn thing.”

She hadn’t. It was something she’d made sure to remind Landry and his junior partner Ellis when they pulled her into the office. The photos were disgusting, there was no denying that. Images of a woman with dark hair, like Lily’s, and too-thin shape, very unlike Lily’s. In one image, the woman was bent over a leather sofa, one that reminded her of the sectional in the office lobby. But she’d never let anyone bend her over the lobby sofa. She’d never let anyone ever yank on her hair as they took her from behind and never, not once in life, had Lily Campbell taken one guy in her mouth while another one went doggy-style on her.

But those were things that Landry preferred not to reference during the Informal meeting three hours ago. The old asshole had used phrases like “unfortunate situation” and “office decorum” rather than mention Lily’s face photoshopped on a rail thin waif’s body.

“This entire situation is beyond my control. You are aware of that, correct?” she’d told them, knowing that her voice went a little loud, that her grip on the leather arm of the chair across from Landry’s desk had her fist shaking.

“We are, of course,” Ellis said, speaking over the old man whose face had gone a little purple. “No one is accusing you of anything, Lily.”

They’d never be so careless. They’d learned their lesson. Two years back Lydia Williams, a loud redhead, top of her class at Harvard Law had been fired. She’d been the first woman Landry had agreed to hire in fifteen years, and they’d settled her with a younger partner, working for the Vegas clients—a modest corporation who ran up-and-coming casinos because those people were accustomed with letting women guide and direct them.

But Lydia had caught the eye of the CEO’s nephew, an overweight frat boy who’d wormed his way into upper management with the help of a little corporate nepotism. Lydia hadn’t returned his affection, had been adamant that she wasn’t interested in the frat boy. It hadn’t stopped him from making threats, from giving Lydia ultimatums and then, finally, having her fired outright. But Lydia wasn’t one to take any hurdle when it came, and a wrongful termination and sexual harassment lawsuit had rattled the partners. It had cost them the Vegas clients and a hefty chunk of change. The attention had been unwarranted and unfortunate, but Lydia still lost her job.

Lily, on the other hand, had landed a stalker; a creative one at that and somehow those annoying phone calls and Facebook messages had elevated and when she blocked and ignored the attention, the senior partners got a manila envelope with pictures of Lily’s face on a naked, fucking body that wasn’t hers.

They might have not been accusing her of a thing, but Ellis’s soft tone was placating, almost as annoying as the hoity glares old man Landry shot her way.

“No,” she said, sitting straighter in the chair across from that large oak desk, “but it sure feels like I’m getting blamed anyway.”

“Not at all,” Ellis said through a nervous laugh and that had Lily curling her hands into fists. “We do feel, however,” Ellis started, folding his hands in front of him when Landry cleared his throat, obvious discomfort tightening the muscles around his mouth. “That it might be a good idea to take some time off. Relax, let us sort this out. You are set to meet with HR this afternoon, to, ah…go over your options should anything else come to light. We just want to get ahead of this before the lower floors catch wind.”

Lower floors meant the associates. It meant the gossips. It meant the assholes hungry for Lily’s fifth floor office. But this was no means of calming the storm before it came, and Ellis had no intention of killing the gossip before it started. If Lily was right, and she suspected she was, Ellis was under orders to get the firm accustomed to her absence.

“They’re firing me. I know it. Disguising this whole mess as some sort of forced vacation time,” Lily had told Lincoln twenty minutes after her kiss-off meeting with the partners. “They say I need a break.”

“I don’t disagree.” When Lily frowned at her colleague, he shrugged, Lincoln’s usual nonchalance. He was nice enough, but never sugar coated a thing, even after Lily blew him off. They’d gone on one date. It was awkward, a total disaster because Lincoln loved talking about himself, crowing about his accomplishments like he was reciting his resume and not there to enjoy her company.

Looking at him now, Lily suspected his sudden bout of support for her was some half-veiled attempt to rub salt in her wounds. “You’ve been on the Reynold’s Steel case for six months. The merger wouldn’t have happened without your help. Well, you and me, I should say. You’ve got intelligence, you’ve got grit and the client thinks you’re amazing.” She shrugged again, waving a hand to dismiss the complement he gave her. “But if Ellis wants you to have a break, it’s because he sees how tired you are.” Lily might have given Lincoln some allowances, but when he pointed to his own under-eye, Lily got annoyed. She didn’t need him pointing out how shitty she looked with those bags under her eyes.

“Is there a point?”

Lincoln sighed, head shaking. “Come on, Campbell. Take the vacation. Enjoy yourself. Give it a few weeks and it’ll all blow over, I’m sure.” He gripped her shoulder, patting it once as he watched her. His gaze lowered, focused on her mouth and Lily had to repress a shudder. He did that from time to time, forgetting that she’d repeatedly told her she wasn’t interested. Sometimes he forgot. Either that or he didn’t think she was serious with her rejection.

Lincoln wasn’t unattractive: good eyes—hazel—and dimples in both cheeks, fit body. He looked more like an athlete than an attorney, but there was something missing in his eyes—something that made him seem closed off and distant. He was fit, athletic, if not big and brawny like most of the men she tended to attract.

It was a remnant of her childhood. New Orleans was diverse, culturally rich, but living on Oahu, surrounded by surfers and fire dancers and a wealth of culture and beauty, left a mark she’d never been able to let go of completely. Lincoln couldn’t have been further from her type, but he was still okay, when he wasn’t trying to edge in on her cases.

“I tell you what,” he started, pulling out his cell, “I’ve got a little cabin up in the mountains in Gatlinburg. You’ve been there, you know what it’s like. I don’t have to sell it.” His smile widened when Lily didn’t flinch from his knuckle under her chin. “I’ll text you the address and have my assistant book a flight for you. Less than half a day you’ll be on Douglas Lake relaxing at my cabin.”

Though Lily was skeptical of this new, generous, what-is-he-plotting Lincoln, the offer was tempting. She had taken Zee to Gatlinburg once, the summer after she graduated high school. Her niece hadn’t had any interest in a senior trip with her friends and they both loved the mountains, the treks and trails up to the falls in the Smokies. Lily had never known about Lincoln’s cabin, but it didn’t surprise her. Lots of lawyers in their firm spent time in the Smokies. He’d probably had that cabin just to keep up. But, Douglas Lake was away from the tourists and reminded Lily of happier times. Times when Zee was still with her. Times when work and Lily’s career hadn’t overtaken her entire world.

But to take Lincoln up on this offer might give him the wrong idea about her—and there were already too many wrong ideas about Lily roaming around her office.

“Lincoln, that’s very nice, but…”

“Think nothing of it.” That grip on her shoulder tightened when he squeezed it, and the muscles around Lincoln’s jaw tightened, as though he had to force the expression to keep on his face. “Not a big deal, really.”

Lily gave him no definitive answer as she packed up her office and left him at the elevator. There were too many thoughts, too many worries occupying her mind. But Lincoln wouldn’t mind. She’d explain later, she promised herself.

Funny thing about Lily—she had a gift for breaking promises.