by DL White
I glance over to Troy. His bored expression tells me everything I need to know. “Might want to hire somebody who didn’t pay for law school to snake drains and haul boxes.”
Doug huffs, pushing his chair back from his desk. He reaches for a notepad and starts dictating notes as he writes. "Re-assign Reid cases. Reassign Blake cases." He glances up at me. "The ones you're not stealing.”
"I'm not stealing anything. I'll rescind the offer of counsel, and if they want to stay with F&R, that's up to them. But if they want me as an attorney, they'll have to follow me to a different firm.”
He grunts, flinging his pen across his desk. The note pad follows. "Clean out your work spaces. Today. Leave your access cards and keys at the front desk. I'll have Human Resources call you with exit details. I don't want to see you in this building unless you're opposing counsel. Are we clear?"
We stand and quickly file out of Doug's office. We’ve dodged a bullet. I am lighter than air. I am one hour and two boxes away from getting the fuck out of this hellhole.
"I can't believe you blurted that out like that. We quit!" I nudge Troy while he’s sucking down a beer.
Hours later, a small but loud group has gathered at Prime. Troy and I, Preston, Morgan, Nate, and Keith are bunched together at a table much too small for us, but we don't want to move. It's our spot, and even though other patrons are taking up the other half of the tables we usually dominate, we want our spot.
"It was going to take you forever to do it diplomatically. You were all I so appreciate the opportunities, blah, blah, suck up, blah. I put it out there. And now we don't have jobs." He lifts an arm to signal the waitress and points to his empty bottle.
"Hey, take it easy, man," says Preston. “We have a long night of drinking ahead of us."
Tonight is the annual NAACP Gala at The Ritz Carlton. It’s usually well-attended by some of Orlando’s most sought after public figures. We’ve gone to this party, as a group, every year for at least the last ten years.
My cell phone rings. Since my fiancé and my best friend are right next to me, I'm tempted to ignore it, but it could be my mom or dad, so I zip open my bag to retrieve the phone.
I grin as I check the Caller ID and pick up the call. "Hey, Jacks! What's up?"
“Some bullshit!”
"What? What's bullshit?"
"My sitter has strep!" She sounds pissed, though she's trying to be quiet. The baby must be asleep.
"No! Do you have a backup?"
"No! Everyone I've tried already has plans. Matt's parents offered to cancel theirs, but I can't do that to them. They already watch Michael all the time." I hear her stomp a foot and grunt in frustration. "Fuck! We might not be able to go tonight."
"Noooo," I whine. "You guys have to come!"
"What's going on?" Morgan asks, alarm in her eyes. "Jackie and Matthew are coming, right?"
"Sitter has strep. She can't find anyone to watch the baby." Morgan's face falls. I know the feeling. "Jackie," I say, resuming my conversation, "Let me ask around and see if I can find someone, okay?"
"Well..." She hesitates. "I... I don't want to leave him with a stranger, you know? I won't have a good time if I'm worried about him."
"Keep trying, though. And let us know what's up, okay?"
Jackie agrees, and I end the call. What was going to be a great night seems less festive. "I hope they can find someone. I feel bad. Jackie never gets to go out anymore."
"Jackie chooses not to go out," Preston argues.
I cut my eyes at Preston for the first time in ages. "The point is that she has a chance to go out and she can't."
"She decided to have a kid. Those are the breaks.” Preston sucks down a swallow of beer and continues. "Look at how often we see Keith and Brandess since they had kids. Almost never."
Keith rears back, mouth open, eyes ablaze. "Seriously? Maybe reading to my eight-year-old is more important than watching you flirt with every skirt in a room. Maybe you can get drunk and then get up and phone it in at work the next day, but I own my business. I can't."
Preston snorts. "And we know Brandess can't."
At that, I grip his arm, digging my nail into the tender flesh of his bicep. “Enough.”
Keith pushes his chair back and stands. “I’m out. Bran and I have stuff to do with our kids before tonight's party. Catch you later."
He stalks away, his long legs making deliberate strides, one hand clenched tightly around a set of keys.
The table is silently staring at Preston, who nonchalantly pops peanuts into his mouth. "What?" He demands, at which everyone looks away—everyone but me. “I was giving him shit, like we always do.”
"I'm out, too.” I grab my bag by the handles and push my chair back. “I’m going to see if I can help Jackie find a sitter."
"Alright. I'll see you at home."
He leans in for a kiss that he doesn't get. I grab my keys and head for the door. Just as I reach my car, I hear Preston behind me. “Evangeline! Wait."
"What?" I unlock the car and drop my bag inside. "You have more stupid shit to say about my friend? How about more insults for Keith and Brandess?"
“I was kidding. Keith knows I was kidding.”
“You don’t say shit like that to people, Preston! You’re just… you’re an asshole. I don’t know how I forgot that."
“You like Asshole Preston when it benefits you. You can’t flip flop when it’s convenient. I am who I am, Evangeline.”
"Yeah?" I get into the car, slamming the door. "I don't like who you are right now."
I start the car and back away from the space, leaving Preston standing in the middle of the parking lot.
42
The familiar roar of Preston's car comes near, idles and then stops. A minute later, the front door creaks open and shuts with a thump. "Babe? Where you at?"
"Office," I call out. In moments, Preston stands in the doorway. "It's good that you're here. I need some information on health insurance. Should I continue my coverage, or does my insurance start on my first day?"
Preston walks around my desk to peek at my paperwork under the guise of rubbing my shoulders. "First day for you. Junior associates have a 90-day wait, so Troy needs to continue his."
His hands knead the taut muscles across my shoulders. "Why are you worrying about that stuff today? It's New Year's Eve. Come on. I want to get a nap in since we're going to be up late."
"You go ahead." I return to my paperwork. Preston concludes his massage and walks around my desk, headed toward the door. "I want to be done. And I'll probably meet you guys for drinks, but I'm not going to the party."
He freezes mid-step and turns around. "You're what?"
My eyes flick up to his before returning to the computer screen. “I’m going to watch the baby, so Jackie and Matthew can go."
"You're—” Preston huffs, his hands propped on his hips. "You're serious? You’re not going to this party we've been planning around for weeks? This party we bought new clothes to go to? Angie, come on!"
"I am serious. I'm not going. But you don't have to hang out with the baby and me. Go to the party. Have a good time."
“Go? Have a good time? Are you serious, Angie?"
Frustrated, I slam the lid of my laptop shut. "Stop asking me that. I am serious. I'm not going. I'm not telling you what you're doing, and I'm not asking you to skip the party, but I am not going."
I maneuver around him, heading toward the kitchen. "Do you want anything to eat? I'm hungry."
"Evangeline—”
"What, Preston?” I whip around to find Preston directly behind me. His eyes have a spark to them that I haven't seen since we went toe to toe in that park.
“First, you can stop acting so casual about this. Weren't you going to talk to me at all? You're crazy if you think we're wasting the bill we spent on your ticket for this party tonight. And you're crazy if you think I'm going to that party by myself, to stand around and dance with myself, drink with myself—”
"That's not the fucking point, Angie!"
Slowly, I step back. As if he notices, he takes a step back as well.
“I—look. I was looking forward to this party because when everyone is doing the countdown and the clock strikes midnight..."
He quietly adds, "I wanted to be with you, finally. I want the first seconds of this new year to start with you."
"I know," I admit. "But Jackie is so upset about not being able to go. This was her first time being able to go out with all of us, and this is their first New Year together."
"I know you love her, and I love her too, and I feel bad for her too, but she has Matt. You don’t have to worry about including her anymore. Let him worry about making her night special. You want to forego our moment so you can be nice to her? Without talking to me about it?"
My head hangs with an appropriate amount of shame. I knew the reaction I would get, but he pissed me off with being so flippant about Jackie and then being so callous about Keith and Brandess. I say all kinds of shit behind Bran’s back, but none of it is ever malicious, and most of it is out of jealousy. I'd leave a bunch of drunk fools behind to snuggle my husband and kids on the couch while we watch Frozen for the hundredth time.
"So, you're not going to reconsider? You're still not going?"
I lift a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. "I already told Jackie that I would watch him."
Preston's pointed brows ride a deeply lined forehead. "And she let you cancel your plans so she could party?"
"I..." I reach behind my head to scratch at the nape of my neck. I feel my temperature rise. "I kind of told her that we'd changed our plans and we weren't going so I was free. I don't think she believed me, but I talked her into accepting my offer. I cannot go back on her. She's excited about going."
Preston groans, grabbing fistfuls of the hair atop his head. He turns a full circle before he stops and drops his hands to his sides. "Jackie still isn't getting to go out with all of us. You won't be there. And now I won't either."
"Preston, you should still go—”
Preston pounds the countertop with a tightly balled fist. "I'm not going to a New Year's Eve party without you, Angie! What about that do you not get?"
“What are you going to do, then? Hang out at home, watch movies like it's a normal night? Fall asleep on the couch with your hand down your pants?"
Preston chuckles, but it's not fun laughter. "Very funny. I'll go with you."
“Hell no, you are not.” I turn to the refrigerator and open it, pulling out leftover chicken from the night before. "You'll be pouty and grumpy, and I'm not in the mood to put up with you and a baby.”
"It'd be your fault that I'm pouty and grumpy. It would serve you right to put up with me."
"If you hadn't been such a dick at the bar, I wouldn't have even thought of skipping out."
Preston sighs and moves in, closing the space between him and me. He pulls the spoon I am using to dish up cold chicken out of my hand and sets it back in the bowl.
"If I apologize for what I said about Jackie and Keith, will you go? We can find a sitter for Jackie, I'm sure. My mom will watch him if we need her to. I want to be with you tonight. Please?"
"Preston, I..." Helpless, my hands flap to my sides. "I wish I could go back on my promise. I can't. Jackie doesn't know your mom. She'd be so worried about Michael all night, and she wouldn't have a good time—”
Preston's face clouds over, and he spins away. "You're so fucking pressed about Jackie, and not at all about me!"
“Because when you were being a dick and trying to beat my ass in court every day, Jackie was there for me. You're throwing a temper tantrum because of this stupid party instead of accepting that I need to be there for my friend because it's important to me that she and her husband get out of their damned house and have a nice time. You're acting spoiled. Not everything is about you and what you want.”
I walk out of the kitchen, leaving the bowl of chicken on the counter and stomp to the stairs. “If you want us to be together at midnight, you better find a way to fix your attitude because you're not ruining my evening with your tantrum.”
In the past, I'd see Preston at the annual NAACP Gala, either alone or with one or several ladies on his arm. It isn’t as if he's never attended that party without someone special.
But… he's angrier and more hurt than I expected him to be. A huge part of me wishes I could back out on Jackie and still look myself in the eye in the morning, but I can't.
Instead, I resign myself to staring into Baby Michael's big, brown eyes at midnight.
43
The bedroom is awash in the glow of dusk. I check the clock radio for the time and yawn, then kick my legs over the side of the bed. Downstairs, Preston is playing music. I can’t tell what the song is, but the thump of bass vibrates through the floor.
"Rude," I mumble to myself, though I slept right through it. I hit the bathroom and wash my face, brush my teeth, and smooth my hair. The last time I held Michael, he grabbed a hoop earring and yanked. Hard. I remove my earrings, because I’m not making that mistake again.
I'm startled to find Preston in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Shit!” I clutch my chest and laugh. “You scared me. What are you doing?"
Preston tips his head a few times, nodding me over to him. "Come here a second. I want to talk to you."
Wary, I cross the room and sit on the bed next to Preston. "I'm not changing my mind. It's too late, anyway."
“I’m not asking you to,” he says, rolling his eyes in my direction. “I'm sorry for what I said about Jackie and Keith and Brandess. I'm not sucking up to you when I say that."
"Okay. Thank you."
“These people are our friends. They've been our friends for a long time. You're loyal to them. But you’re special to me. Everything’s not about me. It’s about you. You're my priority and I don’t like feeling that I'm not more important to you than your friends."
I nod, my bottom lip disappearing between my teeth.
“You feel bad about Jackie. She was excited, and then she felt let down. Like me." He wiggles his brows at me, and I can't help but smile. “But you tried to spite me today, and I was tempted to react the way I used to. Baby…we can’t fall back into that habit.”
“I know,” I whisper. Meek, because I know he’s right. “It’s a hard habit to break. I’m sorry. I reverted to an old response to whatever you would do or say. I won’t do it again.”
“I’m counting on that. I know a way you can make it up to me if you're game."
I glance at my watch and mentally subtract the time I agreed to be at my babysitting job. “Okay, but we have to make it a quickie. I want to get there in time to play with the baby before he goes to—”
Preston's laughter fills the quiet room. He swipes a thumb under each eye while suppressing residual giggles.
"What? I thought you wanted sex."
“I do. I always want sex, but we have to get ready for this party tonight."
I stare at Preston, incredulous. "I already told you, I'm not changing my mind."
“I worked it out so that you don’t have to.”
"You worked what out? Did you find a sitter? And did you clear her with Jackie? Because she's not going to leave her son with just anyone—”
"Angie." He quiets me with a palm cupped under my chin, then pulls me to him and plants a kiss on my lips. "I worked it out, I said. You want to know how?"
“Yes,” I answer. “I’m interested to know.”
“Everybody's coming here instead. Jackie and Matthew are bringing the baby. Keith and Brandess are bringing the kids. We'll set them up in our room, put on some movies, get the kids some pizza. I went to the store and got something to toast with, some ice, a couple of drink mixes, some tonic. It won't be a big, fancy Ritz Carlton party with famous people, but..."
He sheepishly meets my gaze. “This way, everyone gets to party together, including Jackie. And you and I will be together at midnight, which is all I want.”
My mouth hangs open. Preston reaches over and tips up my chin, so it closes.
"Uh, so everyone is fine with not going to the party? It was a hundred bucks a ticket!"
Preston cringes, one corner of his mouth twisting up. “I might have promised I'd give them their money back. Nobody took me up on it, but I was willing. Everyone was happier to just hang here.”
I exhale with both regret and relief. And kiss him, because… wow. “That wasn’t what I meant by figure it out.”
"Too late.” He hops up from the bed and pulls me up with him. "Do we have anything we can feed these people, or do I have to go back to the store? What do kids eat?"
Our little townhome on Lake Conway is bustling with people.
All of our friends and their children are packed into our warm and cozy house. Daft Punk and Pharrell Williams Get Lucky is just loud enough to fill in the spaces between conversations and laughter to carry the mood. The fireplace crackles with fresh logs, and the fire pit is shooting sparks into the starry sky. The patio door is open, so guests are free to roam from one end of the house to another.
I managed to pull a few snacks together to serve: caramelized onion, sausage and cheese mini pizzas, chicken wings, cheesy bread, and the last of my mom’s chocolate chip cookies. Preston made spiked punch, and I made another batch of spiked hot chocolate. Matthew brought over a few dishes that he threw together, as only a chef can.
For putting a party together in a few hours, we've done a great job.
Jackie sidles up next to me, a chunky chocolate baby in her arms. She leans her head on my shoulder. I tip my head so our foreheads touch. “Thank you guys for making this happen. I can’t believe how much more fun I’m having than we had last year.”
My survey of the room makes me smile at the sight of all of our friends spread about— Nate and Morgan on the couch flipping through a home design book; Troy and Jade out on the patio with glasses of wine and puffing on Stogies; Keith and Brandess cuddling their youngest, who didn't want to watch movies with her brother, out by the fire pit; and Preston and Matthew standing next to the fireplace, chatting while staring at the illuminated screens of mobile phones. The discussion looks to be about their Fantasy Football teams. Both suffered tremendous losses.
