by Alexi Venice
“What do you think the chances of a guilty verdict are?” she asked.
“Less than fifty percent given the prominent McKnight name, the demographics of the jury pool, and that Abdul wasn’t a local boy,” he said.
She ran her finger around the rim of her Moscow Mule, choosing not to share the details of the case that she had learned from Dominique.
“I saw you in court this morning,” he said.
“Oh,” she said. “You should have come over.”
“You ran out with the prosecution, so I didn’t have time,” he said. “Listening to McKnight’s confession on the police audio recording was nothing short of shocking.”
I know. I didn’t realize people still spoke like that, actually saying ‘raghead’ and ‘camel jockey’ out loud.”
“I went to school with a ton of guys like McKnight. Bigoted. Arrogant. Even supremacist. Can you imagine how outraged the Seif family will be when they hear that shit?”
“I hope they don’t think Trevor McKnight represents the way we all think and feel in Wisconsin,” she said.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I already told Mohamad that.”
“How did they find you anyway?”
“Mohamad told me he googled local lawyers, and when he saw that I went to Oxford for a year, as well as took an Arab culture class, he thought I could relate to them.”
She nodded and sipped. He drank his beer.
“They aren’t thinking about suing the hospital and doctors for malpractice, are they?” she asked.
“Hell no,” he said. “I explained that Halliday is merely floating an alternative cause of death to create doubt in the juror’s minds. I walked him through the unanimous jury verdict form and the beyond-a-reasonable-doubt standard.”
“Thank you,” she said. “That will take the pressure off the hospital and doctors when they meet with them. Don’t get me wrong, they’d still meet with them, but the tone will be more comfortable now.”
“That makes sense. So, I can count on you to arrange a meeting?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ll call Al tomorrow and get back to you.”
“Perfect.” He held up his glass. “Here’s to working together.”
They air-clinked and drank. He finished his first beer and slid the second one closer.
Monica turned to scan the bar and was surprised to see Nathan and Matt enter. She smiled and waved.
Mike turned and looked at them. “Someone you know?”
“Friends and colleagues,” she said. “Let me introduce you.”
Nathan and Matt joined them. Monica noticed they were holding hands—loosely, but conspicuously.
“Mike, these are my friends, Nathan and Matt,” Monica said. “This is Mike Warner.”
“Would you guys like a drink?” Mike asked, his eyes moving from their clasped hands to their faces.
“Sure, but we don’t want to interrupt if you’re on a date or something,” Nathan said.
“No,” Monica said a little too quickly. “Mike is a lawyer. We were talking business, but we’re finished now.”
“Splendid,” Nathan said. “In that case, we’d love a drink.”
The server appeared, and the men ordered. Matt pulled out a stool for Nathan. Once he was comfortable, Matt borrowed a stool from the neighboring table and sat next to Nathan, casually resting his large hand on the back of Nathan’s seat.
“Do you work at Cannon & Burbach?” Nathan asked Mike.
“Yes. How did you know?” Mike asked. “I don’t have it tattooed on my forehead, do I?”
They laughed.
“No. I work with Monica at SDW,” Nathan said, “and I think I’ve seen your name on some transactions.”
“Really? You sure as hell don’t fit the SDW mold,” Mike said.
“Come again?” Nathan asked.
The server arrived with the drinks, and the guys took healthy pulls.
Without an ounce of embarrassment, Mike said, “Well, I take it you’re gay.” He motioned to Matt and smiled.
“Yes,” Nathan said.
“The guys at SDW have a reputation for being, shall we say, on the far right,” Mike said.
“Trust me, once I came out at the firm, I discovered how downright backward some of their beliefs are,” Nathan said.
“You know what the firm’s initials stand for, right?” Mike asked.
“No,” Nathan and Monica said in unison.
“I swear to God I didn’t make this up,” Mike said, raising his right hand.
“What?” Nathan and Monica asked.
“Slimy, Dumb and White,” Mike said. “Again, I didn’t make it up. I heard it from the lawyers at my firm.”
“Shit!” Monica said. “I had no idea. Why the hell did they ever hire me?”
“Aren’t you the only female lawyer there?” Mike asked.
“Yes,” she said. “And, trust me, I feel like it. That loser, Richard Smart, keeps hitting on me.”
Mike squinted his eyes. “He’s such an ass-hat. I’ve known him since high school, and he thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
“Trust me,” she said, “fending off his overtures is a full time job.”
“That’s harassment, you know,” Nathan said.
“I know,” she said. She gathered her courage. “That’s not all he’s doing. I wasn’t going to tell you this, but the more I learn about the men in charge at our firm, the more I think you should know.”
“What?” Nathan asked.
“First, Jim asked me if you were gay.”
“Jim?” Nathan asked. “Why would he care?”
“He told me that Richard is going around telling the partners that you’re gay and dating a cop.” She nodded at Matt.
“Well, for once that prick is right about something,” Matt said, making Nathan smile.
“What did Jim think of that?” Nathan asked. “A gay lawyer at SDW!”
“I’m not exactly sure. I said we were friends, and that I was uncomfortable discussing your private life. Then he called Richard a ‘turd disturber.’”
“First time I’ve heard that one,” Nathan said.
“Jim didn’t exactly play his hand, but he didn’t sound disappointed or judgmental,” she said.
“I guess we don’t know where he stands,” Nathan said.
“I know where Richard stands though,” she said. “He came into my office this morning and pumped me for information about you.”
“Don’t use the words ‘pumped’ and ‘Richard’ in the same sentence,” Nathan said. “Yuck!”
She covered her mouth. “Gross. He asked me if you were gay, and I told him it was none of his fucking business.”
“What did he say to that?” Nathan asked.
“He got really, really angry and told me I need to start treating him like a partner and gossiping with him, or he wouldn’t vote for me for partner someday.”
Nathan slapped the table. “That bastard!”
“Sounds like the Richard Smart I knew in high school,” Mike said, raising the glass to his lips and muttering right before he took a drink, “Total prick.”
Monica’s chest burned hot with embarrassment for not confiding to Nathan that she, too, was gay. She felt shameful and guilty, and dishonest by omission, letting him shoulder alone the partners’ prejudice. After all, he was her friend now, and everyone in her inner circle knew. Being gay hadn’t been an issue until she had joined SDW.
She drew on the Tanqueray through the thin straw, finishing her Moscow Mule with a noisy slurp. A hot rush of purpose burst inside of her, as she slammed down the copper mug and blurted, “I’m gay too.”
The three men looked at her in disbelief.
“Come again?” Mike asked.
She raised her chin defiantly. “I’m a lesbian.”
“Damn,” Mike said. “I was seriously working up the courage to ask you out. Why are all the hotties off the market?”
She relaxed a degree, grateful for his humor.
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“No waaay,” Nathan said. “You’re lying to make me feel better. Not funny.”
“I’m not lying,” she said, her voice growing with confidence. “I love women, and I’m tired of hiding it for my job. I was out through high school, college and law school. I only went underground when I joined SDW. If I had known you were gay when I joined, I wouldn’t have thought twice about telling you.”
Nathan bolted off his stool and ran around to her, pulling her in for a huge hug. “Thank you for having the courage to support me now.”
She hugged him heartily, saying loudly against his neck. “Thank you for blazing the trail at SDW.”
Nathan pulled back and looked at her. “I never knew, and I usually have a keen gaydar. You little rascal.”
“It’s amazing what you can do when your livelihood depends on it,” she said. “No longer though. I basically just figured out that I was hired as a token female into a good ‘ole boy law firm that a major douche bag will inherit. Why the fuck would I want to kowtow to those assholes, much less become partners with them?”
“I’d say, ‘to make change from within,’” Mike said, “but I seriously doubt you’ll change Richard’s, or any partner’s mind, at SDW.”
“I’m beginning to think ‘SDW’ stands for ‘sexist dicks who are white,” Matt said.
They all laughed.
“The jury is still out on Jim,” Monica said. “He seems more open than the others.”
“You’re right,” Mike said. “He’s generally well-regarded.”
“Now that we got that settled,” Matt said, “Can we order a pizza? I’m starving.”
Monica breathed a sigh of relief and punched him in the shoulder. “Thanks for being a role model, Matt. Yes, I’d love some pizza.”
“I know I’m the odd man out, but I’m not a sexist dick or a homophobe, so can I stay and eat pizza with you guys?” Mike asked.
“Of course,” Monica said, Nathan and Matt joining in.
Chapter Fourteen
Two days later…
Be still my heart. Be still my heart. Be still my heart. Try as she might, Monica couldn’t harness her racing heart in anticipation of Shelby’s arrival at the Box. She had attended yoga the previous morning, her body grateful, but her mind and heart wishing they were at the Box flirting with Shelby.
Monica’s secret crush was intensifying with each day. Was it really so secret? Didn’t she wear it on her face, express it in her voice, and show it with her body language?
She cursed herself for the childish feelings of joy, not unlike what she had experienced on Christmas morning in her youth. Her excited feet racing down the stairs to see what Santa had left. Her curious eyes scanning the hearth. The elation in her chest when she saw her stocking spilling over with gifts.
As she stood before the counter at the CrossFit entrance, scanning her membership card for class, light on her feet and her flirtatious eyes ready to find Shelby, she sensed the presence of the woman who had toppled her world. She subtly inhaled. Yes. Shelby. Monica’s new favorite scent.
She could feel Shelby’s energy, but she calmed her nerves and adopted a game face. She was a successful professional and needed to act like one instead of like a horny college student. After clicking the box to register for class, she logged out and turned. Shelby was at her side.
“Good morning,” Shelby said, her eyes dancing with energy and heat pouring off her.
“Hey.” Monica’s throat clenched and her chest squeezed.
“I have to check in too.” Shelby nodded at the keyboard, and they switched places.
Monica lingered. How do you smell this good first thing in the morning?
“All done,” Shelby said, clicking out. They walked through the gym toward the class that already was assembled in the large space at the far end.
“How are you this morning?” Monica asked.
“Tired,” Shelby said. “I just got up. No time for coffee. Rolled out of bed and came here.”
“Wow,” Monica said. “I couldn’t do that. I need my coffee and cereal before I leave the house.”
“I forgot to turn on my alarm, so when I woke up, I didn’t have a choice. There was no way I was going to miss class.”
“Love working out that much, huh?”
“That, and it’s the only time I get to see you.” Shelby elbowed Monica.
Monica laughed nervously. Is she flirting or is that platonic joking around? They reached the class. Does she sense that I have a hard core, double-dipped crush on her?
Standing side-by-side in the semi-circle around the white board, their shoulders barely touching, Shelby radiated sex appeal. If I’m this turned on simply standing beside her, what would happen if we kissed—spontaneous combustion?
Monica stared blankly at Craig, lying on his side on the floor, demonstrating “Captain Morgans.” Unfortunately, this exercise wasn’t the drink, but some sort of leg stretch. Monica couldn’t have cared less. She wasn’t concerned one iota about remembering Craig’s form, or any other aspect of the workout for that matter. She was content to stand in Shelby’s sunshine, soaking up the energy. Shelby obliterated everything else in Monica’s world. Who cares about the rest of humanity if I can be alone with this woman? Monica would cobble together the details of the workout later by watching others in class.
Most unfortunately, however, the first exercise of the workout was running, which Monica didn’t do under any circumstance. She had baby-making hips and knees that had been beaten up in high school basketball, so she opted for the rowing machine along with a few other people.
Shelby, of course, was a smooth runner with slim hips. She assembled with a small group by the door to stretch in preparation for their 800-meter run, which they would do four times during the workout.
“Hey Monica,” Craig said. “Can we plug in your playlist again today?”
“Your subscription still on the fritz?” she asked.
“Yeah. We’ve been rotating playlists,” he said. “Yours is a favorite.”
She unstrapped from the rower and went to the stereo system where she plugged in her iPhone. She thumbed to her contemporary workout playlist, which she had refined since their last workout, swapping out the duds with some new stuff.
As Hozier started singing To Noise Making (Sing), the runners, including Shelby, looked at Craig for their cue to leave.
Monica returned to her rowing machine and resituated herself, but her treacherous, very uncool eyes found Shelby’s urban camo tights. Monica watched Shelby stretch her quads by pulling each foot back to her butt. Damn. What quads. What an ass—so small, so firm, and athletic dimples.
Even at seven in the morning, in a room full of people, Monica was bewitched by the woman. When Shelby hustled out the door with the other runners, Monica had an undeniable urge to run after her. Left to her rowing, however, all Monica could picture was putting her hands on Shelby’s ass. No, that wasn’t true. She also pictured kissing her full lips and teasing open that sexy mouth.
When Shelby returned with the other runners, Monica unstrapped her feet and joined them in the center of the space for air squats, which they counted religiously while staring straight ahead.
When they hit the yoga mats and lay across from each other to do Captain Morgan’s, Monica became self-conscious. The exercise was too difficult to converse while doing, but the silence was awkward. Terrified that her eyes would reveal too much, Monica focused on the wall behind Shelby, who didn’t have a problem scrunching her face in agony while doing the leg stretches, her neck and chest glowing from running.
Chancing a glimpse, Monica wondered whether Shelby’s neck and chest became equally wet during the throes of passion. Stop thinking with a one-track mind!
The tingles travelling down Monica’s spine forced her to cry uncle and stop. She rolled onto her back and did leg extensions rather than stare at Shelby while doing a stupid contortion, daydreaming about slowly peeling those camo tights down her legs.
Shelby was squatting with graceful ease, never faltering or tipping, just doing a thousand like a breeze.
The woman has perfect balance. God, all that power in those shapely thighs. And calves. Her calves are actually nicer than her thighs, but I’d love to have those thighs wrapped around my neck. What if she broke my neck while she came? It’d be worth it.
As they returned to Captain Morgans on the mats, Shelby again lay on her side only a few feet away and facing Monica. Her left hip in the air, Shelby stretched her left leg in front of her, bending her knee and doing a slow extension with her foot. As her toe reached out into the air, she groaned, her foot quickly falling to the floor. “Oh shit,” she said, rolling onto her back.
“What’s wrong?” Monica asked.
“My back spasmed,” Shelby said between clenched teeth.
Monica scooted to Shelby’s side. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”
“I don’t think so,” Shelby said. “I’m going to lie here for a sec, hoping my muscles will calm down.”
Monica couldn’t believe what fell out of her mouth next. “Do you want me to massage it?” Who offers to massage the back of someone you barely know?
Shelby opened her hazel eyes, searing in pain. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” Monica said. “Can you roll onto your side?”
Shelby gingerly rolled, and Monica tentatively rested her hands on Shelby’s lower back, gently rotating her thumbs into the tight muscle there.
“Uh-huh,” Shelby encouraged between short breaths.
“Like this?” Monica pressed her thumbs and palms harder into Shelby’s lower back muscles.
