by Dylan Allen
“I’ve got to keep my head together for tomorrow. I need this job. I can’t afford to be focused on you. I need you to please keep your distance until you can show me you want more than just to fuck me until I feel better.”
“That’s not it—”
“Please. Tomorrow is a really important day,” she implores.
It feels wrong to walk away. But, I want to give her what she’s asking me for. At least for now.
“I’m not giving up on us,” I tell her. “I know I’ve got a lot to learn, but I love you. And we are fucking worth it, Confidence.”
Her silence is my answer and I feel sick leaving her conflicted in the bathroom of a shitty hotel. But I also know she can take care of herself.
So, I get up.
“Call me tomorrow,” I say. The door vibrates when, I assume, her head falls back or forward onto it.
“I will, please …” She sounds tired and … distressed.
My feet feel like they’re weighed down with one hundred pounds of resignation as I walk to the door and leave.
EXPERT
CONFIDENCE
“What are you doing out here?” Remi’s amused voice startles me. I look up from the paper I’m reviewing and shake my head. He’s all the way at the end of the hall where the elevators are. I get up as he starts walking and try not to look like I’ve been pacing my bedroom all night and pulling my hair out the whole time.
After Hayes left, I calmed myself down, got dressed, and crawled into bed with my work. I’ve never been more grateful for a job in my life. But when I opened the case file and started to review it, my stomach had fallen to my toes. No way would he let me stay on for it.
“Is the room locked?” Remi comes to stand in front of me. He looks like a taller, darker, more handsome Harvey Specter. Every single woman in this office looks at him like they all wished their name was Donna. Except for me. And not just because my heart, body, soul, and mind belonged to another, but because I would never even entertain the thought of being with a man who was in a position of authority over me. Not again.
“No. They’re all in there. Ms. Swanson and Ms. Gauthier are in the room next door. I asked them to wait there for you, because I wanted to talk to you before we go in,” I say.
Remi cocks an eyebrow at me and says, “You’re talking really fast. And can your talk wait until after the meeting? “
“No. It can’t,” I say and then take a deep, calming breath.
“You okay?” Remi’s hand rests on my shoulder and frowns down at me.
“I wanted to tell you … I don’t know how to …” I say and cover my mouth when I realize my tongue is tied. I’ve been practicing what I’d say since the minute my alarm went off last night, but now the words are trapped by fatigue, humiliation, and anger.
“This case. I can’t be part of it. The defendant, Kingdom. My boyfriend—” I shake my head in annoyance at myself. “It’s … my ex-boyfriend,” I force myself to say.
“What is your ex-boyfriend?” Remi asks and looks down at my strangely.
“No, it’s who. It’s Hayes Rivers. I see he’s going to be here today. Your client won’t want that kind of conflict in their attorney. I can’t … and I understand if that means there’s no position here for me. But I just—”
“I know about you and Hayes. Of course I do. It was one of the first things personnel told me when we started checking your conflicts,” he says.
I didn’t expect him to say this. I’ve been bracing for him to rescind his offer. I spent the evening practicing my reaction and crying so that I would be all cried out when it actually happened.
The rush of relief makes me slightly nauseous. I swallow down and make sure I understand.
“So, you want me on that case? Hayes and I—”
“I don’t care about you and Hayes,” he cuts me off sharply. Like he really doesn’t want to hear another word. “I appreciate you telling me. But the clients deserve your expertise, and I don’t think you would risk your law license by acting in any manner less than the best interest of your clients.” He repeats his response firmly.
I feel stupid saying it again, but I just don’t want him to be surprised when Hayes flips out because I’m working for him.
“Thank you for your faith in me,” I say sincerely. He’s a legend. A known taskmaster who doesn’t accept anything but the very best from his associates, and exactly the kind of attorney I want to learn from. “I won’t let you down.”
“I know it. I’ve followed your career. I know you had a misstep.” I smile despite the churning in my stomach. But it’s how I always feel when this gets brought up. However, it’s probably best to get this conversation out of our systems before I start work. A flare of pure, white-hot fucking hate burns my chest when I think about how Nigel’s cowardly, selfish actions will follow me for the rest of my career.
“I promise that it’s not what it seems,” I start. Each word is like acid on my tongue.
“You don’t need to explain. I know when something stinks. I know Lancaster, and now that I’ve met you, I know you wouldn’t throw your career away over some bullshit like that little whelp his daughter married,” he says and cuts off my speech of shame.
“Now, come, and let’s go get our client and go in. I don’t know where Barry is, but we’ll get introductions done without him. And just observe today. Unless you feel something material is omitted, let’s keep your contribution to a minimum. I’ll be honest and tell you that Barry isn’t thrilled I hired you. And he’s going to come for you and try to show me and you that you’re in over your head. This is my firm, but the Houston office is his. So, I won’t rescue you. Just don’t let him intimidate you,” he says. Then he reaches around me, unlocks the door and pushes it open. “After you, Counselor.”
* * *
A woman, with the most luscious head of thick white hair I’ve ever seen in my life and is seated at the table with her laptop and finishes typing something before she looks up. Her face is breathtaking. High forehead, high cheekbones, almond-shaped, dark brown eyes framed by dark, swooping brows that are keen and intense. And her skin, the color of cinnamon, is completely unlined and belies the age her hair and expression attributes.
“Amelia Patel,” she says in a light, pretty voice that makes me think she must have a beautiful singing voice. “Counsel for the defendant, partner at Harvey Brooks,” she adds. I know who she is. She’s the preeminent authority of mass torts, and I was less than generous when I wrote about her a few years ago. She smiles expectantly when I don’t respond right away.
She has no idea who I am, but the minute I say my name, she will.
“I’m Confidence Ryan,” I say. Her smile disappears and she drops my hand as if she’s realized she’s petting a snake and turns to face Remi without saying another word.
I glance at him, and he gives me a wide-eyed what was that about? before he turns to address her.
“Confidence is our new Of Counsel. Ms. Ryan is just observing today. We just hired her yesterday and we’re still in the on-boarding process, but all her conflicts cleared yesterday, so I wanted to bring her in on this conversation, since she wrote the jurisprudence on it,” he says. I swell with pride.
I smile awkwardly because after his introduction, there’s really not much for me to say.
“That’s very impressive,” Hayes says and swivels around in the chair with the abnormally high back that’s been turned to face the window.
A rush of gooseflesh runs over my body and a cold dread blooms in my stomach. I bite back my gasp and smile, even though the effort makes my face ache. I knew he was going to be here, but it’s still hard to feel comfortable given everything that’s going on between us.
“Ah, I didn’t see you, kid,” Remi says good-naturedly and walks over to Hayes, who stands up. His eyes cut to mine and his expression is completely unreadable.
“Nice view, Wilde.” He nods out the window. It overlooks the green of Rivers Wilde, and from here,
with red and white awning and sparkling clean streets, it looks like something out of a postcard.
“It is.” Remi smiles, and I want to knock their heads together. “Glad you’re here, actually. We have our new lawyer here today, it’ll be good—” The door behind us opens and Barry, the Partner who is acting as lead lawyer for the case, hurries into the room.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Remington,” he says without addressing anyone else—not even the clients. They both stood up when he entered the room, and he dumps his briefcase, a box of files, and his coffee onto the table and mutters to no one in particular, “This fucking traffic is a killer,” and they sit down. His toothy grin turns into a thin and insincere smile when he looks at me.
“Oh, I didn’t realize she was joining us,” he says to Remington without addressing me.
“Her conflicts cleared, and I figured this would be a great place to get her feet wet and maybe give her a chance to give input when she gets back,” he says without any sign of irritation at Barry’s barbed words.
“We don’t need her input,” Barry says dismissively.
“Why don’t you need her input?” Hayes asks, and I stifle a groan at the tone in his voice. I wish he would look at me so I can give him a warning look. I don’t want or need him fighting my battles for me.
“Because I think we should settle,” Barry says easily, missing the thread of warning in Hayes’s voice. The clients both gasp, “What?”
“Trust me,” he says in a patronizing voice before he turns his wannabe megawatt smile on Hayes. “Mr. Rivers, I’m Barry Jimenez, the lead attorney for the class,” he says and walks over, his beefy hand extended and his chest is puffed out like he’s walking into a boxing ring.
Hayes eyes him and then his hand for a moment just long enough to be awkward before he shakes it. “We’re glad you made the time to come today and we’re fully prepared to discuss settlement. I know that’s what you want and I think it’s in everyone’s best interest.”
“We haven’t discussed this,” Remi says.
“That’s not unusual. I don’t discuss case strategy on every case with you.” He pushes a lock of his messy brown hair off his forehead, and I think he might be attractive if he wasn’t such jerk.
“I think we should go ahead and settle.” He finally addresses his clients and reiterates with a little more deference in his voice.
“I know she’s an ‘expert.’” He makes air quotes around the word, and I dislike him even more than I did yesterday. His dismissal of me sets my teeth on edge. “But like I’ve been saying since her interview, I’m sure she wrote a great paper in law school, but in actual practice, I just don’t see how her contribution will be valuable.” He waves a hand in my direction and Hayes’s lips thin and curl upward in a menacing scowl.
Barry continues to jump on the thin ice he’s standing on, oblivious that he’s courting danger. Watching Hayes get offended on my behalf pisses me off, because no one has offended me more than he has. And unlike loving him, the world of big law is a jungle I feel perfectly capable of navigating and defending myself.
Remi looks down at the two clients and says, “Could you excuse us, please? I’d like the lawyers to have a chance to talk before we go on. I apologize, but if you two could just wait in the small room you were in before we came in, I’ll come get you when we’re ready.”
One of the women crosses her arms over her chest and sets her chin. “Why doesn’t he have to leave?” She points at Hayes. “Isn’t he a client, too?” she asks. I like her. I’m glad she’s not taking their shit.
“I’m leaving, too,” Hayes responds. He walks over to the women and offers each of them an arm. His face is solemn, his smile sincere when he says, “Ladies, let me escort you out. Let’s leave the dirty work to the lawyers.” Ms. Gauthier, the older of the two smiles prettily, her cheeks flush as she stands up and takes the proffered arm.
“Jo, he’s trying to sweeten us up so they can do us wrong,” Ms. Swanson says and grabs her friend’s elbow and tugs her free of Hayes.
“But I want him to sweeten me up,” Jo says and pulls free of her friend. She smiles up at Hayes and takes his arm and bats her eyelashes up at him.
“Your wish is my command,” he says smoothly. He holds his elbow out to Ms. Swanson again and says jokingly, “Come on, I don’t bite.” His smile is so charming that it makes my fool heart flutter.
They walk out of the room, and when Hayes walks past the head of the table where I’m standing, our eyes meet. The air rushes from my lungs. There’s unmistakable, naked desire in his eyes. It’s territorial and so intense it feels like his hand is around my throat. I flush hot when I remember the way he had me last night.
He smiles and winks subtly before he continues walking.
When the door closes behind him, Barry pounces. “They’re offering more money than most of these people will ever see in their lives. Litigation is going to be expensive, and this is a pro bono venture. There isn’t much to discuss. I’ve got a trial coming up and I would like to focus. And maybe I could use Ms. Ryan for the document review there.” He says this as if he’s doing me a favor.
“Document review? You can’t be serious,” I gasp before I can stop myself.
Everyone’s eyes fly to me, and I feel an immediate pang of regret and close my eyes briefly. But then, I open them and look him in his eyes. Because, truth be told, he’s not wrong. I don’t think I’m the smartest person in this room. About this topic, I know I am.
“I’m dead serious. I know Remi hired you. But, I made no secret of my opposition. You’ve got baggage, you think you’re the smartest person in the room, and you clearly don’t know how to be seen and not heard,” he says in rapid fire succession like he’s been holding it in.
I glance at Remi and he raises an eyebrow like he’s asking you gonna let him get away with that?
I look around the room and wish I had a button to press pause. Inside, I’m fuming. But I won’t let that show because this is how the best lawyers earn their stripes. Barry Jimenez is one of the best litigators in the country. He’s won the Department of Justice’s Silver Eagle Award twice. He’s only one of a handful of people to ever do it. And he’s doing to me what was done to him. I know if I back down, he’ll lose any respect he has for me.
I remind myself that he’s my boss. When I respond, I say, “I reviewed the settlement offer, and I disagree,” I say simply.
“Thanks for your opinion,” he says. “Let’s get started,” he says and pulls open file folder.
“Gentlemen,” he says to all of us and nods at the table. Lucky for me, I’ve never waited for an invitation to sit at any table and I won’t start today.
I sit down, open my file and start looking over the notes I made.
“So, we’re giving everyone six months and a five thousand-dollar voucher for furniture and clothes, right?” Barry ticks the broad terms off the list on his fingers.
“That’s right.” Amelia nods.
“I think that sounds very generous,” Remi says, and my eyes fly to him. He meets my gaze, and challenges, “Tell me why I’m wrong.”
“Yes, Coincidence, tell us why all of our years of experience should yield to your law review article,” Barry says snidely.
I eye him and let the scorn I’m feeling show.
He’s my boss, and I respect his career, and I don’t give a shit about him making fun of my name. If anything, it shows how unoriginal he is. But damn if I’m going to sit here and be quiet while he screws our clients.
“My experience may be ten percent of yours when it comes to sitting at tables like this one. But when it comes to the way the law treats uninsured, non-property-owning survivors of natural disasters, you’re not even a speck in my rearview mirror. I’m not going to sit here while you sell the people who entrusted their entire futures to you and this firm down the proverbial river,” I say. “Excuse the pun.”
“Tell us how giving them more money than they’ll ever see is sell
ing them short? You think years of litigation while they sit in limbo is helping them?”
“I think giving them what they deserve, something that makes them whole instead of something that’s essentially a basket of fish with no way to catch more.”
“This flood will affect them for generations. Homes were lost. Valuable, irreplaceable things are gone. Their children are traumatized. They need some sort of therapy or something to help them work through some of the trauma we are supposed to be helping them.”
“Therapy? Give me a fucking break, Remi,” Barry says in exasperation.
“Remi, this feels like amateur hour,” Amelia says and I flush. “You’re putting foal who doesn’t know how to walk into a pasture full of hungry wolves,” she says derisively.
“Amelia,” Remi says in a warning tone.
“My client and I are leaving. We will send a final settlement offer. You tell us what you think. We want to make people whole, but we’re not paying for more than that,” she says. She gathers her dark leather Gucci briefcase and strolls out.
“Conscience, we’re not talking about my children. Their children are conditioned in a way mine are not,” he says, and this time I decide his intentional flubbing of my name is actually a Freudian slip. I’ll happily be their conscience. And the champion of the people who aren’t here to make their voices heard.
“How, exactly?”
“They live in neighborhoods where crisis abounds,” he says.
“Have you been to their neighborhood?” I ask the question of everyone at the table.
Both of them—Remi included—shake their head no.
Disappointment settles heavily around my shoulders. “Why not?” I ask.
“We’ve seen pictures; that’s sufficient,” Barry says.
“That is not sufficient,” I snap. My voice is sharp, but I find it reprehensible that no one has even been there.
“Sorry, who the fuck are you, even? Why are you doing more than getting me coffee at this point?” Barry says suddenly. His temper has apparently broken free of whatever was caging it.
