Risking Ruin

by Mae Wood

  “You want to take a final look at everything? I made a copy for you and both Mr. Brannons. I wasn’t sure if Jimmy was joining you or not.”

  “I didn’t ask. I don’t know. Thanks for thinking about that,” said Marisa.

  Is this the first time she has done something without my prompting, or am I just now noticing? She’s always been fine at her job and excellent at finding stuff on the internet, but today she’s just knocking it out of the park. Maybe she should become a private investigator instead of a legal assistant.

  “Also, I want to say that you’ve been awesome today. I really appreciate everything you’ve done and how you’ve really taken initiative,” said Marisa, making a mental note to later ask Jane not to undertake any investigation outside of her internet sleuthing without first bringing Marisa into the loop.

  “Just remember this when my bonus is discussed,” beamed Jane.

  “If this turns out to be more than a weird coincidence, then I don’t think you’ll have any complaints,” replied Marisa, turning to thumb through the binders one final time.

  “One last thing before I head out. Can you help me find my court shoes?”

  “But you’re not going to court.”

  “Yes,” replied Marisa calmly, knowing she wanted the shoes, and their confidence-boosint powers, for what could be a potentially awkward interaction with Mr. Brannon the younger. “I know, but I want to wear them to this meeting.”

  “So you’re going to wear that clingy number with your sky high super sexy stilettos to a meeting with hottie James Whatever Brannon the third? Work it, girl!”

  Marisa looked down at her blue and black striped Diane von Furstenberg silk jersey wrap. The deep v of the neck was extremely flattering on her smooth skin, but she had to admit that if she were even half a cup size bigger, the dress would be relegated to cocktail parties. Crap. This is probably too much.

  “I didn’t think I was headed anywhere today, but I’m not wearing these to Branco,” she said, gesturing to the badly tattered black kitten heels on her feet.

  Jane nodded in agreement. “I’ve got a black cardigan in my office you can throw on top of the dress. You find your court shoes, and let me run get the cardigan.”

  Marisa fished her court shoes out from behind her office door, where they were stored haphazardly with her emergency collection of umbrellas. She kicked off the kitten heels that were long past their expiration date and slid on the stilettos. Jane returned with an extended hand, waiving the blessed cardigan at Marisa.

  “Thank you so much. You’ve really been a life-saver today.”

  “It’s my job. I’ll put the binders in a box for you to carry over. You just might want to freshen up a bit in the bathroom before you leave.”

  Marisa cocked her head at Jane.

  “You kind of have raccoon eyes going on. You really should use waterproof mascara,” said Jane.

  Fuck. I haven’t touched my makeup since this morning. I’m sure I’m all washed out and wilting.

  “Meet me at the elevator bank in three minutes with the box with the binders.” Marisa dashed to the bathroom down the hall, nearly wiping out when her heels struck the cool bathroom tile.

  She plopped her Marc Jacobs bag on the countertop and leaned forward to inspect the damage. Marisa snatched a paper towel from the dispenser, dampened a corner, and wiped away the smudged mascara under both of her eyes. No time to fix her eyes any further. She quickly swirled powder all over her face and swiped on her favorite shade of Bobbi Brown lipstick. This will have to do. She took a deep breath, exhaled deeply, and buttoned the cardigan closed across her chest. Okay, let’s go have a business meeting with Trip.

  Marisa pushed through the Branco Building’s rotating doors and greeted the receptionist. “Marisa Tanner for Trip Brannon,” she stated to the middle-aged woman behind the desk.

  “Yes, Ms. Tanner. If you’ll wait there,” she replied, pointing to the pair of worn and but at least matching wingback chairs across for the reception desk, “I’ll let his assistant know you’ve arrived.”

  Marisa walked over and plunked down the box. She was thankful that the temperatures were cooler today and there was some cloud cover during her short walk, but she was still overly warm from tottering over in her tall black shoes and schlepping a box in the eighty degree heat. Even though Jane’s cardigan was cotton, it was too heavy for an outdoor walk this time of year. I really don’t want to be sweaty. That will just make me more self-conscious about having to be professional around Trip. She unbuttoned her cardigan to let the chill of the air-conditioned lobby cool her down. The cool air felt so good and she briefly closed her eyes as she felt the heat that had been trapped under the cardigan dissipate.

  “Marisa.”

  Marisa opened her eyes and found Trip hovering over her. He was wearing a summer suit, white dress shirt and a pink and blue striped silk tie. Ralph Lauren couldn’t have dressed Trip better himself. His eyes flitted between Marisa’s face and her cleavage. She quickly grabbed at the sides of the cardigan and began quickly buttoning up. She finished the job and stood to shake Trip’s hand.

  “Trip,” she replied, giving his hand a firm shake. “Thanks for working me into your day on such late notice.”

  “Anytime,” he said clinging to her hand. “Your buttoning is off.”

  Marisa blushed. Even though her breasts were now hidden from his view, she delighted at his attention on her body. “Thanks.”

  She turned her body to the side, not wanting to give him a full-frontal show in the middle of Branco’s lobby. She refastened the buttons and then bent to pick up her box of binders. Trip swooped in and snagged the box before she could reach it. She righted herself.

  “Thanks, but I’m more than happy to carry it.”

  Trip shook his head and uttered a singular word in response: “Bitsy.”

  “Shall we?,” he said, walking across the lobby. Marisa fell in behind him, admiring the view of his muscular behind in the well-tailored tan cotton poplin suit. Once in the elevator, she stood silently in the corner opposite from him, trying mightily not to give in to his gravitational pull. Trip didn’t fill the space with words or his body. For that, Marisa was thankful. When the elevator arrived on the seventeenth floor, Trip caught her eye and nodded for her to exit first. She stepped on to the plush grey carpeting and felt his eyes apprise her in the same way she was doing when he had been in the lead.

  “Are you in John’s old office?,” asked Marisa, attempting to get her bearings.

  “No, I haven’t moved. My office is this way,” he replied, taking the lead from her.

  She exhaled and tried to ignore the strong broad shoulders pressing down the hall. Okay, business, Marisa. Get your mind off of him in that way. Focus.

  Trip breezed by an assistant without stopping. “Jenny, please buzz my father in two minutes and let him know Ms. Tanner is here.” Jenny nodded, her iron-straightened and streaked hair barely moving. “This way, Marisa,” he continued, taking a sharp turn into his office. It was a mirror image of Jimmy’s office. An imposing desk and a wall of books. Windows that looked toward Midtown. An eclectic mix of art on the white walls. But instead of the casual seating area in Jimmy’s office where they had enjoyed a thousand dollar bottle of bourbon, Trip had a small square stone-topped conference table surrounded with four chairs. Trip placed the box in the middle of the conference table and pulled a chair back for Marisa.

  “I’m sorry, but I need to do this,” he said. He leaned toward her, grabbed her waist and pulled him to her. Marisa gasped. She was completely disoriented. His lips landed on hers with a gentleness, but the passion behind the kiss was betrayed by the firmness by which he held her. Marisa’s mind went blank, and her knees weakened. When he released her, she took a single step back and just looked at him, completely bewildered and tongue-tied. “I am really sorry, but I had to do that if I had any hope of being able to focus in this meeting. Forgive me?,” he asked.

  Marisa nodded
and found her voice. “I was wondering why you asked your assistant to give you two minutes.”

  “Well, you can’t come into my office dressed like that and not be kissed, Marisa. I also expect you had an inkling,” he said with a wink. “Thanks for the cardigan. It does help.”

  Marisa’s senses fully returned. She glanced nervously around, realizing that Trip hadn’t pulled the door closed behind them. Oh my goodness. Who saw that? Could anyone have seen that?

  “Don’t worry. You can’t see this corner of my office from the hall. I’ve given more than a few custodians a heart attack when I’ve been working at this conference table late at night.”

  Thank goodness for that, thought Marisa, relieved that Trip had wiped away her worry.

  “My dad should be here a second or two. Would you like a glass of water?”

  “That would be lovely,” she replied. Trip took three steps backward toward the door, holding Marisa in his gaze.

  “Jenny,” he called. “Can you get us some refreshments? Ms. Tanner would like some cold water, as would I.”

  While Trip instructed his assistant, he kept his eyes on Marisa and gave her a wink. Neither said a word, and the room buzzed with the energy between them.

  Okay, get your head back in the game, Marisa directed herself. Jimmy will be here any second. She forced her eyes to the conference table and busied herself by pulling the binders out of the box and setting each in front of a chair at the conference table. She extracted a yellow legal pad for her notes and set a silver-plated pen parallel to it. This represented more fussing with place settings than what her mom did at Thanksgiving, but it helped her focus on the real reason she was here. I’m not here to see Trip. I’m here to talk with Trip and Jimmy about these lawsuits.

  Seconds later, Jimmy walked in and greeted Marisa with a smile. “Okay, Killer, what’s the big news?,” he asked, rubbing his hands together expectantly.

  Marisa sat at the chair Trip had pulled out for her and the men sat down on either side of her. Surrounded by Brannon men. A girl could have a worse fate. Now, focus. “Nothing concrete yet, but we’ve uncovered something very curious. I want to go over what we know so far, what we don’t know, and why I recommend hiring a private investigator to learn more.”

  “Private investigator?,” said the Brannon men in unison.

  “Yes,” she replied. Then while tapping on her binder with her pen, she continued. “To bottom line it, all seven of these women were involved in a divorce during the past year. That alone would be odd, but not worth taking your time. People get divorced. What is strange is that it appears that at least five of the women plaintiffs with sexual harassment claims are attending the same divorce support group. I know this seems like a strange rabbit trail to chase, but, in my opinion, it is too odd of a coincidence to ignore.”

  “You think this is some sort of conspiracy? Divorcées in a church basement plotting to sue Branco?,” prodded Jimmy. Trip remained silent and focused on the binder in front of him.

  “That is what we don’t know. This really could mean nothing, but I’m intrigued by our initial research. I’ve prepared these binders,” she replied, waiving her hand toward the binder that sat in front of Jimmy. “Dossiers of each of the plaintiffs are included in each binder. I’ve set out as much background information as we have on each of them. I’m happy to walk through them plaintiff by plaintiff, or you can review it on your own and let me know what questions you have later.”

  “No thank you. I appreciate your executive summary, Marisa. Time is money. I don’t make money being involved in lawsuits. I only lose money. What is your recommendation here?”

  Trip jumped into the conversation. “Wait. Before we get there, I have questions. How did you uncover this? What are the consequences, if this is a conspiracy?”

  “Trip,” Jimmy stated sternly. “I’ve got a dinner meeting out in Germantown in forty-five minutes and I need to leave the office in ten minutes.” Trip leaned back in his chair and Jimmy continued. “Marisa, do you mind telling me what your recommendation is, and then I’ll leave Trip to get details. He can bring me up to speed later.”

  “Sure,” replied Marisa, feeling slightly out of place at witnessing some of the father-son dynamic. “We don’t normally hire private investigators, but I believe it would be valuable to have a private investigator dig in here. Specifically, I’d like to know who is attending by getting some pictures of folks coming and going from the meeting. Then, I’d like to insert a mole. The meeting isn’t closed. It’s just some divorced women support group at a Methodist Church in East Memphis. The group meets on Tuesdays and Saturdays. I’d like to jump on this while it is hot, which is why I wanted to get your direction today. I’m pretty sure we can get someone inside who might be able to gather information or even get some useful audio recordings, if we’re extremely lucky.”

  Jimmy nodded. Marisa continued.

  “The specific PI I’d recommend hiring is Vanessa Hodgkin. She’s done some work for our other clients in personal injury cases. The reviews from the other attorneys in my firm is favorable. She’s a woman, which is an absolute requirement here, and has a great track record of getting useful things on tape. For example, she worked a really bad car wreck case where the plaintiff alleged a very serious back injury. Vanessa was able to get video of him loading up cases of beer into the trunk of his car two weeks before the trial. One of my partners reported that the jury ate it up, as you can imagine.”

  “Okay, I’m sold, but what’s this going to cost us?”

  “In the back of the binder, I’ve prepared a memorandum for you setting out why I think taking this step here is important. That memo includes Vanessa’s resume and rate structure. I was able to negotiate a discount of fifteen percent for this, which is reflected in the rates quoted here. We got the discount mainly because we can give her the time and location where we expect at least some of our plaintiffs to be. They should be sitting ducks for her.

  “Also, Vanessa told me that she went through a divorce about five years ago and is confident that she’ll be able to blend into the meeting easily. So we can confirm who is attending, she’ll cover two meetings and attempt to photograph or video the other attendees coming or going. At that point, we can revaluate whether further work would be helpful or not.”

  “Sounds great, but how much is that going to cost?,” repeated Jimmy.

  “She estimates two thousand dollars, including prep time and the compiling of a report.”

  “Do it,” said Jimmy, picking up the binder and rising to leave. “Trip, let me know what else you learn from Marisa and if I need to be personally involved. Otherwise, you’re the General Counsel now, so this is your show to run. Excuse me, but I’ve got to go.” And with that, Trip and Marisa were alone at the small conference table.

  A few minutes passed before Trip broke the silence. Marisa could feel the electricity building between them. Being near Trip just made her want to touch him, and even the idea of touching him made her want to be naked with him.

  “Okay, you’ve got to tell me how you uncovered this strange connection. However, you’re going to tell me over dinner. I’m not going to sit here and listen to your stomach growl anymore.”

  As if on cue, Marisa’s stomach roared. Marisa’s eyes widened and she was a little horrified. I should have just grabbed a granola bar from the vending machine at some point today, she thought.

  “Your stomach has growled four times since my father mentioned his dinner meeting. Anything specific we need in the binders or can you just talk through it without them?”

  “I don’t need the binders,” Marisa replied in a pleasant tone. Internally she bristled slightly. Glad to know my last seven hours are really being appreciated here.

  “You must be hungry because you didn’t put up a fight about dinner,” Trip noted before leaning his head closer to Marisa and whispering, “Now, I just have to figure out what you’re hungry for.”

  Chapter Twenty-one


  “Come on, let’s go get you fed. Leave your binder and things. I’ll have it delivered to your office in the morning. And your friend the sweater, let’s leave her, too.”

  Marisa nervously laughed. She wasn’t expecting Trip to be so forward.

  “If you were wondering, Jenny leaves promptly at 5:45 each day.” Fine. If he wants to play more, then I’m game as long as we can keep this under the radar.

  Marisa dutifully moved her left hand to the top of the black crewneck cardigan. She leisurely fingered the small black button that sat at her clavicle. She gradually reached her right hand up to join and she could feel Trip lean in closer, completely enthralled by Marisa’s fingers stroking the button. Marisa savored the rapt attention. She stroked the back of her left hand with her right and trailed it down toward her elbow, dragging the sweater’s sleeve with her hand to reveal the lapis bracelet.

  Trip wore a mischievous and delighted grin.

  “Nuh nuh,” said Marisa coyly, shaking her head slowly. “Like me, like my friends. Sweater goes with us.” Trip chuckled with glee.

  “Fine, sweater can come,” he relented. His smile overtook his entire face and he stood up from the conference table.

  Marisa also stood and began walking toward the door. “I wouldn’t worry too much about her. She’s has a bad habit of leaving a party early.”

  They found Trip’s car in the garage and hopped in. Marisa was becoming more comfortable with Trip opening doors for her, but it was definitely different from Paul, Ryan, or any other man that she could recall.

  “Trip, I may be misremembering things, but didn’t you leave your car at the curb in front of my building last night?”

  “I did.”

  “You were lucky it wasn’t stolen. It had to be a pain to track down where it was towed this morning.”

  “George got it for me. I told your doorman someone would be round for it shortly and texted George in the elevator.”

  “Huh,” replied Marisa. Trip does live in a totally different world from me. “So, how did you get home this morning? George again?”