Indiscretion

by Anderson, Callie

  “Fuck that! I’m not fucking stupid, Cole. I know exactly what the case is about, but Evan did rape those women.” My hands gripped my hips, standing my ground. “He belongs in jail.”

  “So what if he did?” His voice rose until we were screaming at each other. “Your client didn’t hire you to figure that out. She’s paying you to get her life back for her! She lost her job because of Evan, but she’s not claiming he raped her. She isn’t even suing him for sexual harassment. Fuck, Katherine! Does Howard even know? You can’t be this naïve. They teach you this crap on day one of school.”

  I wasn’t naïve. I knew how it felt to have a rapist bastard walk free. I knew exactly what it was like to wake up from nightmares, to close your eyes and remember their hands on your skin. “Whatever, Cole.”

  He stepped away from me, scratching the back of his head before he turned and looked back at me. “And what the fuck was I, huh?”

  My heart sank, and I swallowed back, unsure how to respond. I knew Lila was in the kitchen overhearing everything, but I couldn’t stop him now.

  “Answer me?” he questioned and I watched as his nostrils flared. “Letting me fuck you every which way, what was that? Did you think you would let me fuck you, and in return, I would give you information on Evan? That the defense would be easier on Natasha because you’re sleeping your way up?” He muffled the last sentence under his breath, but I heard it loud and clear.

  “Fuck you,” I said through gritted teeth. “Get out.” My eyes filled with tears. “Now!” I pointed to the front door. “I’m not sleeping with you to win this case, and if I remember correctly, I’m the one who said we shouldn’t do this,” I shouted to his back as he marched toward the front door.

  He held his hand on the doorknob. “Yeah, you were the one who said we shouldn’t do this, but you were also the one who showed up at my job and asked me to fuck you in the elevator two hours ago.” He opened the door and turned to look at me one last time. “Make sure your team is ready for pre-trial. We’re not settling, and I’m going to wipe the floor with your client.”

  The door slammed behind him as he left. Inhaling a calming breath, I turned on my heel and headed straight for the kitchen. Lila’s concern was written all over her face. She had heard the whole conversation, so it was only a matter of time before she gave me her two cents. I pulled open the freezer door, then popped the lid off my pint and looked at her, waiting for the words to come out of her mouth.

  “Please tell me he’s not the guy you’ve been seeing?” She pushed away the remainder of the food in front of her.

  Here we go, Mrs. I Know What’s Best giving me her two cents before I even have my ice cream in my mouth. I dug my spoon into the creamy goodness. “Seriously, Lila, I’m not in the mood.” I slid the ice cream from side to side in my mouth and let its cold texture calm the heat burning within me.

  “Not in the mood for what? A reality check? Katherine, how dumb can you be? You’re putting your career at risk for a hot guy?” She jumped off the bar stool, bringing her dirty dishes to the sink. “This isn’t college anymore. I thought you were done with meaningless sex.”

  I slammed the pint on the granite, preparing myself for another fight. I was getting really tired of people calling me dumb, stupid, and now a whore. “I just had him”—I pointed to the living room—“call me stupid. Say what you have to say, but I refuse to stand here and let you call me whore, too. I got clean and stopped with the pills. I stopped sleeping around a long time ago. You know the hell I went through, and I made it to the other side. This is different.”

  “Then what are you doing?” she shouted back at me. “You’re sleeping with the defense attorney on your first case. And according to him, you’re harassing his client’s exes when they have nothing to do with the lawsuit. You can’t see rape everywhere you go. I know it’s a trigger, but come on, Kat. And Cole is right, does your professor even know? Are you even allowed to do that?” Her voice screeched through the kitchen.

  I took a deep breath, trying to avoid a fight with my best friend over an asshole. “Lila, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you? Because it sure as hell doesn’t look like you know. You can’t save every rape victim, Katherine.”

  Seriously, this is where she’s taking it? She knew exactly what to say to push me over the edge. “I’m not trying to save anyone. I’m trying to make the rat bastard pay. For fucked-up business practices, or slander, or rape, or all of that. And you know what? I do hope I can get enough dirt to put his ass behind bars. No one should have to live with the pain and shame and horror of being a victim and knowing that the asshole who hurt you, who took every shred of hope you had left, is still running around.” Any attempt to keep my voice cool, calm, and collected was long gone.

  “You’re throwing your career away for sex,” she spat.

  “Excuse me?” My eyebrows furrowed together. This wasn’t just sex. It was . . . love.

  “You heard me, this is so typical Katherine. By not doing your job and violating ethics codes before you’ve even passed the bar. And for what? Good sex with Cole Hunter Rhodes?”

  I slammed my hand on the cool surface. “He wasn’t just good sex. It was different with him.”

  “Oh, please. Spare me the bullshit. Hopefully you haven’t tossed your sobriety out the door.” She began walking out of the kitchen, but I wasn’t done—far from it.

  Though I knew I should have kept my mouth shut, I couldn’t hold it any longer, not when she was fighting dirty. Lila was looking for a fight, and she was going to get one. “Oh, yes, that’s right. Because you know everything there is to know about relationships. You sit there leading Caleb on, then get mad when he’s photographed with other women. Don’t throw rocks at a glass house, Lila. You may say you don’t want anything with Caleb, but it doesn’t stop you from going on the shopping sprees and the luxurious trips around the world. How many times did you spread your legs when he bought you that Chanel clutch? Ethics my ass.”

  Lila stopped at the doorway and looked back at me. I knew I had hit the nail on the head. It was now my turn to get shit off my chest.

  “Oh, what? Do you have nothing to say now?” I began. “Does the truth hurt?” I saw red. “Yeah, I fucked Cole. Repeatedly. But it was different. I wasn’t doing it for the case. I wasn’t doing it to feel validated and whole on the fucking inside. I slept with him for me because I wanted something with him, something more than just a casual fuck.

  “And yes, I researched Evan’s exes because he had rape charges against him. So what? If the bastard is guilty of rape, he should be behind bars. But I can admit the truth. I can admit my mistakes and take responsibility for my actions. I’m still sober, two years clean. But you stand there judging me. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You know what? I hope Caleb finds someone who values what a great guy he is. You want to dish it out, Lila? That’s fine. I can take it, but can you?”

  “Fuck off, Katherine.” She turned, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

  “You’re only pissed because you know it’s the truth. Caleb is the best thing that ever happened to you, and you’re too dumb to realize it. Let’s hope he doesn’t realize he’s wasting his time with someone who’s only interested in her career,” I shouted through the apartment.

  It was the second time today a door slammed, ending a conversation.

  I brought the ice cream to my room as tears formed in my eyes. Lila’s words hurt in more ways than she probably meant them to, but Cole’s words didn’t hurt. His words made my blood boil. I knew exactly what that asshole had done to those women. I was trying to help Natasha get what she deserved, and if I could go one step further and help put Evan Seymour behind bars where he could never hurt anyone again, even better. But when I thought about the past few weeks and the past fifteen minutes, I couldn’t help but wonder if Lila was right.

  I set the pint down and wiped away the tears. I sat on top of the bed, hugging my knees as I looked at the drawer. The drawer t
hat held the orange bottle of pills that would make all the pain I felt disappear.

  I’d been sober for two years—two years and ten weeks—but there was a bottle of Oxycodone that I’d never flushed hidden deep in my sock drawer. And I knew that one pill, maybe two, would help. It would ease away the pain. It would take away the tightness in my chest.

  I contemplated it, my heart racing in my chest as I dangled between the old me and the new. The old Katherine who popped pills like Tic Tacs and slept around for any form of validation from a man, or the new Katherine, the one determined to be worth more.

  Bile rose in my throat, and my phone vibrated next to me. I looked down at the screen to see my mother’s name flash up at me and sighed with relief.

  “Mom?” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “Hey, Katherine.” Her voice was filled with love. It was the same voice that had soothed me back to bed anytime I’d woken from a bad dream. The same voice she used when Gary left us and I cried myself to sleep. She thought I was upset because I lost my step dad but in reality I was relieved. .

  I sniffled back tears. “Hi, Mom,” I cried, realizing what I had been about to do.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” I lied. “Just a little down today.”

  “You sure, honey? Do you want to talk about it?”

  Exhaling, I grabbed the ice cream. “Work really sucks right now. I have a big case, and I think I just blew it. And I just got into a big fight with Lila.” I sighed.

  “Why don’t you come home for a long weekend? We can watch movies and lay on the couch all day.”

  “I don’t know. I have to see what’s going on with work.”

  “Think about it. You may need a little R and R. Unplug from the world for a few days.

  “Maybe.” I swallowed. No matter the number of times my mother drove me mad, she was still there for me when I needed her most.

  “I love you,” I said, not remembering the last time I said those words to her.

  “I love you, too.”

  After my conversation with my mom, and after devouring my pint of ice cream, I walked back into the kitchen. Our apartment was quiet—cold, really. Walking over to the side of the fridge, I looked at Lila’s work schedule. She was off for the next three days. I refused to be the first to apologize, and Lila was more stubborn than most bulls, so there was no way she was going to apologize anytime soon. The next three days were going to be hell unless I found somewhere else to stay, but where?

  Ben.

  Surprised that his name took so long to pop into my mind, I ran to my room and packed an overnight bag. Maybe a break from my dramatic life was what I needed.

  After walking through Central Park, I finally climbed the steps to Ben’s apartment building, which was as different as night and day from where Lila and I lived. The apartments here were smaller and cramped, and there were businesses and bodegas at almost every corner. Ringing his doorbell, I waited by the intercom.

  “Yes?” His voice was staticky through the speaker.

  “Ben, it’s me. Can I come up?” My plan of getting away from Lila was filled with flaws. I hadn’t even checked with Ben to see whether this was okay or not. I just showed up at his house with my bag packed.

  The door buzzed and I jogged up the three flights of steps. His front door swung open when I made it to the final landing. “Hi,” I said breathlessly from the steps. I walked toward Ben, my eyes still puffy from earlier and lifted my overnight bag higher on my shoulder.

  “Hey, baby Kat. What’s the matter?” he questioned, reaching for my bag.

  I let my shoulders slump low. “Can I stay here a couple of days?” I exhaled.

  “Katherine, what’s wrong?” he asked when we were in his tiny apartment. His living room served as a kitchen and dining room too, but Ben decorated in such a way that you never felt crammed in.

  I flopped on the couch, hugging his teal decorative pillow. “Lila and I had this really big fight. She doesn’t have to go into work for a couple of days, and I’m really not in the mood to see her.” I attempted to keep it as simple as possible.

  “What? You two never fight.” He dropped my overnight bag on the chair before curling up next to me. I leaned my head on his shoulder, letting his arms wrap around to comfort me.

  “She said some fucked-up shit, and then I said some fucked-up shit.” I didn’t want to get Ben involved in my drama, and I didn’t want him to know it was Cole I’d been screwing. Not to mention, I didn’t want him to call me dumb, too. Ben planted a kiss over my hair, his way of reassuring me that he was there for me.

  I had tried to push Cole away. I figured I’d wait until the case was over or my internship was done before I got involved with him, but I could no longer help what I felt for him. There was no point in hiding from my feelings. He wasn’t there just to scratch my itch. For the first time, I was falling for someone, but it had all turned to shit.

  Ben stood and walked to the kitchen. I heard the fridge open and close before he returned with a pint of Häagen-Dazs and two spoons. I popped the lid open, and he handed me a spoon before he scooped out a big spoonful for himself. Ben was never one to indulge in sweets, so this was weird. I grabbed my spoon and reached for the pint with a puzzled look on my face.

  “What?” he asked as he savored the first bite.

  “Nothing.” I smiled for the first time since I saw Cole in my living room. I scooped a small amount onto my spoon. “I thought you didn’t like sweets.”

  “What can I say, Kat? You’ve been rubbing off on me. Eating ice cream helps.”

  I looked into his big chocolate eyes and saw what I assumed was the same pain in my own expression. “You want to talk about it?” I asked. I handed him back the pint of ice cream before laying my head on his lap. He smiled down at me.

  “Jon asked me to go as his date to this party he has to attend Memorial Day weekend.” Ben played with his spoon. “I’m not ready to be open about us just yet.”

  “Do you want me to go as your plus one? That way you can still be close to him?” I offered. We had been each other’s plus one on numerous occasions.

  “No, it won’t help. I offered that, and Jon just threw a bigger fit. He said he was tired of always seeming like the third wheel. He said he wants to be with someone who can openly commit to him.” He placed a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth. “But I’m not ready yet, you know? Aside from you and Lila, only a few people know. I haven’t even come out to my mother yet.”

  “Sorry, Benny.” I rubbed my hand on his thigh. Ben’s father had left him and his mother when he was ten, and Ben felt that telling his mother he was gay would destroy her.

  Placing his ice cream down on the glass coffee table, he rubbed his hand down my hair. “Don’t be sorry, baby girl. Looks like it’s just me and you.”

  “Always.”

  * * *

  The sun was hidden behind the dark gray clouds as I walked into work Thursday morning. I thought it was the last time I’d ever walk to my small gray cubicle, I took a moment to appreciate my first internship. I liked the people I worked with, and for once I felt I had a purpose, though I doubted I still had a job to go to. I was certain I was fired.

  When my key card worked at the security gate, I was shocked. Maybe Professor Goldstein was going to fire me in person.

  I reached my desk, and I expected a pink slip or a sticky note to be waiting for me, but there was nothing. I looked around to see if there was anyone in the office yet. Maybe he was stuck in traffic, or maybe Victoria was running late.

  There was no way Cole hadn’t said anything, especially after all that he said yesterday. It was only a matter of time—my hours, my minutes here, were numbered. I logged on, cleared out any personal email, and organized my desk so when I was canned, it would be a painless process.

  I looked down at my clock on the screen, and it was past ten in the morning, I swiveled in my chair, looking around for signs of anything different. Was I not
supposed to be here? Not wanting to be a coward, and needing to know if I had my job for another day, I rose from my seat and walked toward Victoria’s office. Might as well face it head-on.

  I stopped at her doorway and tapped softly, not wanting to startle her from her work. “Good morning, Victoria.” I smiled weakly.

  “Morning, Katherine.” She turned from her computer and beamed at me. “Can I help you with something, sweetie?”

  Shocked, I stuttered my first few words before I caught myself. “I . . . I came to see if you need any assistance. I’m caught up on all the work you’ve given me, and I thought I could give you a hand with whatever you’re working on.” I walked farther into her office, taking a seat in front of her oversized dark-wood desk.

  She swiveled in her chair, turning to her massive bookcase that overflowed with files. She reached for a few folders before spinning back to me. “Can you brief these for me the same way you did the Venturini v. Seymour case?”

  I nodded, taking the files from her. At the moment, I would do anything to clear my mind. “Of course.”

  “I swear, Katherine, after you pass the bar, I hope Howard offers you a permanent position. You’re the best intern we’ve ever had.” She turned back to her desk, looking at the email that had just entered her inbox.

  “I feel I’ve been doing such a bad job. I couldn’t find anything that would help with the Venturini case.” I slumped in the chair, bringing the files to my chest.

  “Oh, no. You’ve done such a great job these past few weeks. You’re here more than any other intern we’ve had, and all the cases I’ve asked you to help me with . . . well, you organized them so well that it made all of our jobs so much easier.” She placed both hands on the desk and looked at me. “Trust me, everyone appreciates all that you’ve done.”

  I pushed myself off the chair and thanked her for the pep talk, though it didn’t stop the pain in the pit of my stomach. I walked farther down the hallway until I reached Howard’s office. I stepped into his doorway and noticed he was on the phone. I began to turn back around, he waved for me to come in.