Conflicted

by Missy Johnson

  He doesn’t look convinced.

  “My idea of a big night out is staying up past ten.”

  “That wasn’t the impression I got last week,” he says. His eyes are on the road, meaning I can’t work out what he means by that. Then I remember how short that damn dress was that Lucas made me wear and I cringe.

  “That wasn’t a good representation of how I usually am,” I reply.

  “Spoken like a lawyer’s daughter,” he says.

  I glare at him and he laughs.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re really easy to wind up.”

  “What made you want to become a lawyer?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “I guess I wanted to make a difference.” He shrugs. I can understand that.

  “Defence is an interesting way to do that,” I observe. If you want to make a difference, why not put away the bad guys?

  “Believe it or not, I started out wanting to prosecute,” he admits with a grin. “I went into law wanting to be the guy who puts away all the bad guys. I wanted to clean up the world.”

  “And instead you end up setting them free,” I muse. “What went wrong?”

  “Who said anything went wrong?” He laughs. “Not everything is black and white, Lacey. Each case is different and has to be treated differently, but the law doesn’t always see it that way.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, still not able to comprehend how he can be so comfortable with helping people like Duane.

  “Last month I represented a woman charged with culpable driving. She was drunk and a three-year-old was killed. Throw the book at her, right? Give her the maximum twenty-year sentence?”

  I nod, but I know there’s more coming.

  “What if I told you she was a mother of two, and that she’d been drinking because her mother had just died, only two weeks after she’d lost her father?” He turns to me and raises his eyebrows. “Then, what if I also told you that the three-year-old killed was her little girl?”

  Oh shit. I can’t help but feel sorry for the poor woman, and I know that’s his intention. Not a day would go by where she wouldn’t blame herself for her daughter’s death. That in itself is almost punishment enough. No amount of prison could beat that.

  “See where I’m going with this? Would you want her to get the same sentence as a guy who has a long history of DUIs, who is driving on a suspended license?”

  “No,” I admit.

  “That’s why I love my job,” he says, his eyes twinkling.

  “But it’s hardly the same. You can’t compare that scenario to Duane Fairgone,” I argue.

  “Maybe not, but all I’m saying is you don’t really know what’s going on until you understand the circumstances. The fact is, if I can help one person the system might otherwise swallow up, then it’s worth it.”

  “Even if it means the Duane Fairgones end up back out there in the world?” I retort. “I’m guessing you don’t have a daughter.”

  He glances at me, and I swear I see a flicker of pain in his eyes. Too far, Lacey.

  “I think we should change the subject before this gets too heated,” he says, his voice light. “But I love your passion, Lacey. That’s something you can’t learn.”

  The rest of the drive we travel in silence, but not the awkward kind. We’re both just lost in thought. At some point I fall asleep, waking up just as we’re entering the town. Yawning, I stretch out as best as I can. Lifting my hand to my mouth, I’m horrified when I realize I’ve been drooling. I quickly wipe the corner of my mouth and straighten myself in my seat.

  We pull into the parking lot of the centre just before one. Getting out, I stretch my arms and yawn. It feels like we’ve been driving all day. I follow Aaron over to the front entrance, taking in what is one of the most secure institutions in the country. From the outside, it doesn’t look like the home for some of the world’s most dangerous criminals. It looks almost inviting. I shudder, rubbing my fingers over the goose bumps on my arms.

  We move through three security ports before we get inside. At the last, I’m asked to stand against the wall and look straight ahead. My heart pounds as a red laser moves slowly across my face.

  “What’s this?” I ask nervously. I’m not sure I want to hear the answer.

  “Eye scan,” Aaron explains. “In case you go missing.” My eyes widen and he laughs. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t happen often.”

  We’re led to a small room with a large window that looks into another room. The other room is brightly lit and contains only a table. Aaron explains what is going to happen, but I’m only half listening, because the door is opening and I can see Duane being led into the room. He turns and stares through the glass, as though he can see me. I shiver, even though I know all he sees is a mirror. His eyes are so dark they’re almost black, and they’re void of any emotion. He almost looks drugged. He probably is. He’s in a high-security psychiatric prison. If he wasn’t sedated, I’d be surprised.

  “It feels like he can see you, doesn’t it?” Aaron asks.

  I nod, unable to draw my eyes away from Duane. I can’t believe I’m standing metres from someone capable of doing such horrendous things… things Allie was subjected to.

  I look down, a wave of nausea washing over me. Aaron eyes me, concerned. He pulls a chair over for me to sit on. Thankfully, I fall onto the seat and try not to think about Allie, which is a near-impossible task.

  “The first time is always the hardest. It does get easier,” Aaron assures me.

  Does it? I can’t imagine how.

  The entire process takes less than an hour, and I do find myself feeling less affected by everything. It’s almost like I’m watching an episode of Law and Order, and I keep expecting Olivia Benson to come bursting through the door.

  After the assessment, Aaron insists on debriefing me to make sure I’m okay.

  “So, what now?” I ask as we leave. We walk over to his car and get in.

  “The psychiatrist will write up his report and send a copy to me and to the prosecution,” he explains. “And from there we work out the best strategy for his defence.”

  “And for you, that’s insanity,” I say.

  “An insanity plea makes my job easier, yes. But think about it this way: if there is even a remote chance this guy will be out one day, wouldn’t you prefer he’d have intensive therapy rather than be forgotten in the prison system?”

  “Yes,” I admit. He makes a good point, and I know I need to work on my ability to see all sides of an argument.

  We reach the city just after eight. So much for having me back by five. It’s been a long day and all I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep. As we drive through the busy restaurant district of town, Aaron pulls into a parking space outside of a Thai restaurant.

  “I thought I could treat you to dinner.”

  “Sure,” I reply, secretly thrilled. Suddenly I’m not so tired.

  I get out of the car, my arms wrapped around my waist as I wait for him to join me on the sidewalk.

  “You like Thai?” he asks. “Or there’s an Italian place just over there.”

  “Thai is great,” I say.

  He nods and leads me inside, his hand resting on the small of my back. I shiver, a thrill racing down my spine at the feel of his hands on me. If he notices, he doesn’t show it, and I’m glad. The last thing I want is for him to pick up on my attraction to him. We’re led to a small table near the back of the tiny restaurant. We sit down, a candle burning softly in the centre of the table between us.

  “So tell me more about Lacey,” he says, as the waiter fills our glasses with the expensive white wine he ordered. I reach over for my glass and take a sip to steady my nerves. It does nothing. At this point, I think a whole barrel would fail to calm the storm inside me.

  “There is honestly not much to tell.” I sound so lame. It’s times like this I wish I were more interesting. Or at least knew how to lie about it like Ariel.

  “Come on, give me more than that. Sell
yourself to me.”

  I blush and he laughs.

  “Such a dirty mind for an innocent girl.”

  I take another sip of my wine, my courage building. “I never said I was innocent. Maybe I meant there’s not much I want to tell you.”

  “Ah, that’s better,” he says with a grin. “Boyfriend?” His dark eyes twinkle as my cheeks colour. Again.

  “No,” I admit, suddenly feeling shy at how fast the lines of our relationship are blurring.

  “I find that surprising,” he comments, smirking. “You must have boys lined up to date you.”

  I cringe. “I’m not interested in ‘boys.’”

  He grins. “Girls then. I’m all for whatever you’re attracted to.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I reply. I narrow my eyes because I’m pretty sure he knew that. His smirk confirms it. “I mean the guys my age aren’t mature enough for a relationship, and the last thing I want to be is just a notch on somebody’s bedpost. I don’t have time for that.”

  “Are we talking about anyone in particular? You seem too annoyed for this not to be personal.”

  “My friend Lucas,” I say, after a slight pause. “He’s the perfect example of what I’m talking about.

  “How so?” he asks. His tone of voice changes slightly, but I’m too worked up to really care. He’s right. I get plenty of attention from guys, but they’re not the type I want anything to do with.

  “He has a different girl every night, and I don’t see him changing his ways anytime soon.” I shrug, twisting a lock of my hair around my fingers. “I mean, good on those girls who can be like that, but I’m not one of them.”

  “So, what are you looking for, Lacey?” he asks. His eyes burn through me as I think about his words. I don’t know what I’m looking for. That’s part of the problem. But I’ll know when I find it. I shift in my seat, the conversation moving faster than I’m comfortable with. He’s my boss. Sure, I have a crush, but it’s not like I want it to go anywhere.

  Do I?

  “I think we should order,” I reply, flipping open my menu.

  He chuckles to himself and does the same. My heart pounds as I stare at the words on the page. What’s he thinking?

  Probably that I’m an inexperienced young girl incapable of fun.

  The rest of the evening is ruined by my inability to let go of my thoughts. I can’t get his words out of my head. What do I want? Why does it bother me so much that I have no idea what I want? I’m only twenty-two. I’m not expected to have my life planned out. Only I do. I’ve had it planned out since I was a child, and while the path I’m taking is not what was planned for me, it’s no less mapped out.

  Romance has never been part of that plan. Not since Lucas rejected me. I throw myself into everything else to mask how lonely and unsure I am. But I’m only just now seeing it.

  “Are you okay, Lacey?”

  We stand in front of his car, outside my house. He insisted on seeing me to the door, a gesture which both impresses and embarrasses me. If Ariel sees him, the questions will be endless. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

  “You’ve been quiet since dinner.” He hesitates, placing his hands deep in his pockets. “I’m sorry I asked if you had a boyfriend. It’s none of my business.”

  “Why did you ask me that?” I say, turning to face him. I look him in the eye, shocked by the boldness of my own question, something I’d usually shy away from.

  “Because I guess I like you,” he says, looking surprised himself. “But that doesn’t make it any less inappropriate on my part. And for that I’m sorry.”

  “Because you’re my boss?” I ask. “Or because you’re nearly twice my age?”

  He shrugs and turns on his heel, walking back down the driveway to his car. When he reaches the curb, he spins around and smiles at me.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Lacey.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lucas

  “Yo,” I say, into my phone as I peer through the window. “We have plans for dinner, remember?”

  “Shit!” Lacey’s voice crackles through what is obviously a bad line. “I’m so sorry, Lucas. I had a thing to do for work out at Newcastle and I completely forgot we had plans.” I hear a male voice in the background. My grip on the phone tightens. Newcastle is a two-hour drive away. She’s been with him all day, alone in his car?

  “Well, are you free now? We can still catch up.”

  “I, uh…” Her voice trails off. My annoyance is growing by the second. “I’m kind of having dinner with someone,” she finishes, her voice weak.

  “Okay, thanks for letting me know.” I hang up before she can reply. I’m annoyed, but it’s more that I don’t trust myself not to say something stupid. All I need is to upset her while she’s in his car.

  My phone vibrates in my hand. I don’t bother looking because I know it’s her. I walk over to my car and climb in, and toss the phone over the back. I need to get my mind off the both of them.

  “Ah, my new best friend,” Eva greets me with her telltale accent as I walk inside.

  Grunting, I take a seat at the bar, not in the mood for talking.

  “Uh oh. You don’t look happy. Bad day?” she asks.

  “You could say that,” I mutter.

  She pours me a drink and pushes it across the bar. I take it and knock it back, sighing as it burns my throat.

  “Then I have good news for you.” She takes off her apron and stashes it under the bar. “I’m finished. Let’s go.” She grabs hold of my arm, dragging me off the seat as I laugh.

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere better than here,” she explains, rolling her eyes. “I know a good place over on Market Street. They do a fantastic citrus cocktail.”

  “I’m not sure your boss would be happy that you’re directing their business elsewhere,” I say, amused. I follow her outside and over to her car, which is an old blue Corolla that I’m not convinced will get us to the end of the street, let alone across town.

  Surprisingly, it does, but finding a parking spot on a Friday night over this side of town is near impossible. After driving around for fifteen minutes, Eva curses under her breath and then speeds off.

  “Where are we going?” I laugh.

  “My house.”

  I don’t have the motivation to argue, so I just sit back and enjoy the ride.

  It’s late when I get home. I walk through the living room, stepping over a passed-out Harry and a chick I don’t recognize. Neither of them are wearing much. I go into my room and slam the door. Lacey is right: I need to get out of here. It’s like living in a fucking brothel.

  Sitting down on my bed, I grab my phone and sigh. I know I have to deal with her eventually, and the ten missed calls and various messages tell me she’s pretty pissed that I cut her off. I read through the messages and laugh as each one gets more threatening. I dial her number and lie back on my bed, waiting for her to answer.

  “Where have you been?” she demands. “God, I was so worried about you. Why did you hang up on me?”

  “My phone went flat and I only just got home,” I fib. “Sorry I worried you.”

  “It’s okay,” she says, relieved. “I’m just glad you’re not lying in a ditch or something. I was worried you were angry at me for messing up our plans.”

  “Nah, we can do dinner anytime, right?” I say, hoping I sound more relaxed than I feel. All I can think about is the two of them. Together. Which is ridiculous, because I have no reason to believe there is anything going on other than their professional relationship. She barely knows him, for fuck’s sake.

  Except I know how Lacey idolizes him. And I know enough about my father to know there is something going on. There has to be a reason he chose her.

  “So how was your day?” I ask, keeping my tone casual. “Learn much?”

  “I’m learning a lot. Aaron is such an amazing teacher,” she gushes. I can almost feel her glowing through the line. “Just watching him, I feel like I’
m learning things I never otherwise would.”

  “Well he’s what, twenty years older than you, right?” I point out. “He has a lot more life experience. He started his career when you were still in nappies.” I’m doing everything I can to remind her how much older he is because I’m paranoid he is going to try something—if he hasn’t already. And if he does, I’m not sure she would be able to resist.

  “I guess you’re right,” Lacey says.

  My jaw tightens. Do I detect disappointment in her voice?

  “I saw my father today.”

  “You did?” I perk up. I can’t imagine how that went down. “Where?”

  “At Aaron’s office. I jumped behind a filing cabinet so he wouldn’t see me. So of course Aaron walked in and I looked like an idiot in front of him. Again.” She groans.

  “I don’t get why you worry about what he thinks,” I mutter. Why does every conversation end up back at him? She sighs and I sigh back. I can’t keep pushing it or she’ll ask questions. “Look, I gotta go. I’m late for something.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asks. “What?”

  “I’m meeting up with a friend,” I say, wondering what’s with the third degree.

  “Anyone I know?” she asks.

  I chuckle. She can be so nosy, and the tinge of jealousy I’m sure I can hear in her voice makes me happy.

  “No, you don’t know her. She’s just a chick I met. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I hang up, wishing I didn’t have to lie to my best friend. The only plans I have for tonight involve me and my bed. And I don’t mean that in a dirty way. I glance down at my phone and click on Contacts. Then again, it’s not a lie if I make plans. I scroll through until I find the name I’m after, and press Call.

  “You’re not standing on a hotel roof right now, are you, Lucas?” Eva’s voice floats down the line. She sounds happy to hear from me, even if she is giving me shit. “Because I can’t think of another reason why I’d hear from you hours after seeing you.”

  “I just wanted to apologise if I came across as disinterested today. I had a lot on my mind. Can I make it up to you and buy you dinner or something?”