Playing With Trouble

by Chanel Cleeton

  I wished it didn’t have to be like this, that it wasn’t my sister or my parents. Wished my father was the kind of man who had included Jackie in our lives from the beginning. But there wasn’t anything I could do anymore. They’d made their choices, and I’d made mine, and I wasn’t going to keep apologizing.

  “She’s my sister. I wanted to be there for her.”

  My mother sucked in a deep breath as if I’d struck her through the phone.

  “It sends a message you shouldn’t be sending,” she snapped.

  I didn’t bother pointing out that my parents had held a press conference when the news of Jackie’s paternity broke, feeding the media some bullshit story about how we were all one big happy family. As though they both didn’t treat Jackie like she was a leper.

  “She’s my sister,” I repeated, wondering how my mother knew so little about me to think that I would abandon Jackie. “I’m sorry that her existence hurts you. I’m sorry he cheated. What he did was so wrong, but even worse is how he doesn’t attempt to make amends. None of this is her fault, and yet she’s the one who bears the brunt of it.”

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Blair, but I’m tired of you acting out. You should be less concerned with that girl and more concerned with your family. You need to think about how your behavior reflects on the rest of us.”

  That was all I had done. For years. I was over it.

  “Why?”

  “Because you have a duty to this family.”

  There it was. The duty that was an albatross around my neck.

  “It’s bad enough that you caused that scandal with Thom . . .”

  “That scandal? That’s what you’re going to call my fiancé cheating on me? A scandal?”

  How about some fucking sympathy? A hug. A kind word. Thom’s betrayal had been difficult enough without the added pressure my parents put on me.

  “There was no need for your dramatics. When I think of the humiliation of all those people there, waiting for a wedding that never happened. Of your father, just months before the election . . . It’s bad enough, what we have to deal with from Kate. I expected better from you.”

  Because I’d always played by their rules? Because I’d never had the balls to stand up for myself? Because I’d hidden who I really was so far beneath layers of bullshit, manners, and propriety?

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s expected of you. You threw everything away, and for what? A law degree from a school no one outside of D.C. has ever even heard of? You could have made a good marriage. I don’t know what man is going to want to put up with your drama now.”

  Drama?

  “No.” My voice shook as I pushed the words out. Everything came bubbling to the surface. My anger at my parents, at Thom, at Gray for treating me like everyone else did. For not fucking seeing me. Even at Kate for always getting to be the one who broke curfew, who talked back to our parents, who did whatever the hell she wanted, damn the consequences.

  But more than anything, I was angry at myself. I’d done this. I’d allowed myself to become this shell of a person, and the worst part was that I fucking knew it. I’d criticized Gray for being scared, but I wasn’t much better. I should have done this a long time ago.

  “I’m done doing things because it’s expected. Or because you need it to look good for an election, or so your friends will be impressed. I’m done caring what they write about me in Capital Confessions. I’m done living my life so everything looks a certain way. I’m done pretending I’m someone I’m not.

  “This is me. I got a low score on my LSATs, and I go to a shitty law school that I know you’re disappointed about. And even though it’s a shitty law school, I’ll still probably get Cs this semester, because even though I busted my ass studying all of fall break, I still don’t understand most of it.”

  “Blair—”

  “I’m not done. Jackie is my sister. So is Kate. Don’t force me to choose between you and them, because after everything that’s happened, it’s not a choice.” I struggled to control my voice, to contain the rage seeping out.

  “I’m not the girl you thought I was, and I’m sorry if that disappoints you, but I’m not going to change. It’s up to you whether or not that’s enough.”

  With my parents, who knew? They’d all but written Kate out of their wills. Maybe I’d be stricken from the family bible as well. I couldn’t force myself to care.

  I waited for her to say something, hoped that on some level she’d understand, but was met with the deep freeze of silence instead.

  Standard.

  I said good-bye, grabbed my books, and headed to class.

  Gray

  Blair was upset, and it took whatever vestiges of my willpower that remained to keep me from stopping class and asking her what was wrong. Was it her family? Law school? Me?

  I was the last person who should be fixing anyone’s problems, fuck, I could barely manage mine, but I wanted to make her feel better. Somehow.

  I kept looking at her while I taught, waiting for a moment when her gaze would meet mine. She didn’t look at me. Not once.

  The hour crept by with agonizing slowness.

  At the end of class, I couldn’t resist.

  “Ms. Reynolds, could you come see me for a moment? I need to go over some things for the pro bono project with you.”

  Total lie. I did have a few things, but I could have easily emailed them. I wanted the chance to talk to her without the weight of seventy-four prying eyes. I wanted to know she was okay.

  Blair took her time coming up to the front of the classroom. I occupied myself with the papers in my briefcase, trying to keep from stealing glances to gauge her progress.

  And then she was in front of me, and the rest of the class trailed out of the room.

  I lowered my voice, keeping the desk between us. “Is everything okay?”

  She nodded slowly, the motion at odds with the sadness in her eyes.

  I looked around the room, noting a few stragglers—Crossword Boy among them.

  “You sure?”

  She exhaled and some of the tension seemed to leave her body. “Yeah. Family stuff.”

  I could have let her go at that, but the worry gnawing in my stomach held me in place.

  “I saw Capital Confessions this morning,” I admitted.

  Surprise flashed across her face. “You read Capital Confessions?”

  “I do now.”

  I didn’t need to say the rest; by the soft curve of her lips, she knew what I meant.

  Because of her.

  “Well, let’s just say that my mother also reads Capital Confessions, and she’s furious with me.” Her voice shook a bit, and I couldn’t tell if it was anger or the threat of impending tears that made her falter.

  I just wanted to make her smile.

  “Come on. Let’s grab coffee and go sit in my office.” I moved around the desk, grateful everyone else had finally cleared out. I nudged her with my shoulder. “I’ll even buy you coffee.”

  “I thought we weren’t doing this.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Hanging out, unless it was related to school. Touching.”

  I shoved my hands in my pockets, offering her my most innocent expression, one that had never really gotten a lot of use. “I promise to behave and keep my hands to myself at all times. Mouth, too.”

  She flushed.

  I knew she was right, but at the same time, we’d become friends of sorts. I liked that she could talk to me about things. And more than anything, I wanted to make her feel better.

  “You look like you need someone to talk to. You’re having a shit day. Even I’m not enough of a bastard to take advantage of that,” I added.

  She hesitated, and then nodded, and followed me out of the room.

  Blair

  I sat in Gray’s office, waiting while he picked up coffee for us.

  I’d thought I’d feel uncomfortable considering how unresolved everything was b
etween us, but I didn’t. Maybe it was the fact that we had shared secrets that made him feel like someone I could confide it. Or maybe it was the concern in his gaze. Either way, here I was.

  I turned at the sound of the door closing.

  Gray handed me a coffee from the cafe downstairs. I expected him to go to his desk chair, but instead he sat in the seat next to mine, taking a sip from his own coffee. We didn’t speak for a minute or two, the silence strangely calming.

  “Better?”

  I nodded. “Caffeine solves all ills.”

  He laughed. “At least for law students.”

  “Law students with finals coming up,” I added with a wince. To say I was terrified about exams would be putting it mildly.

  “How are your classes going?”

  I took a sip of the coffee, my fourth of the day. We were in that horrible period when professors started cramming material down our throats to make sure we covered everything we needed for the final. Or as Caitlin referred to it, “Why are we still learning things?”

  Our last official day of classes was the Friday before Thanksgiving week, and then we had a few reading days, followed by exams the Monday after Thanksgiving.

  “The usual. I’ve been going to tutoring and it’s helping a bit. Caitlin, Adam, and I formed a study group at the beginning of the semester. And I pretty much lived in the library over fall break.”

  I hadn’t seen him around school; I wondered if he’d gone on vacation or back to Chicago.

  He frowned. “Crossword Boy?”

  I snorted as I made the connection, the coffee tickling my throat. “Is that what you call him?”

  “Among other things,” he muttered.

  I remembered the look on his face when Adam had touched me at the carnival.

  “I told you I’m not interested in Adam like that.”

  “I don’t think he got the hint.”

  I shrugged. “He’s not my type.” Not anymore, at least.

  A pause filled the air.

  “Aren’t you going to ask what my type is?” I prodded.

  If he wanted to go there by bringing up Adam, we’d go there. I wasn’t the one who kept taking one step forward and two steps back.

  He shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “You’re incorrigible, aren’t you?”

  “I prefer ‘determined.’”

  His foot nudged mine. “Stop stalling. What had you so upset earlier?”

  I made a face. “Nice job avoiding the topic at hand.”

  “I could say the same about you.”

  I sighed. “My parents have basically drawn a line in the sand. They’re upset about my relationship with my sister Jackie. They’re pissed about my broken engagement. Angry because my sister Kate is basically done with them. Furious that I didn’t campaign for my father like a good little soldier.”

  His eyes narrowed after a beat. “You do realize that the vast majority of that list has nothing to do with you, right?”

  I blinked.

  “Are you normally responsible for everyone else?”

  “No.” I hesitated. “Sort of.”

  He shook his head, his jaw clenched. “You should tell them all to fuck off.”

  I choked on another sip of coffee.

  “I’m serious,” he continued. “None of this is your problem. Your father screwed around and had another child. You’re you, so of course you aren’t going to turn your back on her. And you shouldn’t. Not your fault your fiancé was gay, and they really need to get over that one. And I don’t know anything about your sister, Kate, but I’m guessing she’s an adult.”

  “She’s twenty-one.”

  “See, not your fucking problem.”

  All valid points, but it was hard to ignore twenty-three years of habit.

  “So that’s it?”

  He nodded. “That’s it.”

  “Do you have siblings?”

  “Brothers. Assholes.”

  “So you wouldn’t stand up for your siblings?”

  “My family doesn’t work that way. My older brother, Michael, is in and out of prison. In right now for assault. He calls me once in a while when he needs a recommendation for a good lawyer. My younger brother, Johnny, is a fucking mess. Had a chance to go to college, play basketball, and threw it all away.”

  He described a world so different from any I’d ever known. And yet, somehow here he was.

  “How did you end up in law school?”

  He took another sip of his coffee. “I spent some time in juvie when I was a kid. Stupid shit with a stolen car and my brother, Michael. It scared me straight. Didn’t take for him. I started paying attention in school, working hard. Found out I liked it. Started boxing, liked that, too. Got a scholarship for college. Worked my ass off there. Got into law school.” His voice got tight. “Pissed it all away.”

  I reached out and squeezed his fingers, linking my hand with his until they were both resting on his knee. His hand jerked under mine and then stilled. It wasn’t much, but at least he didn’t pull away.

  “Have you thought about what you’ll do after this year’s over?” I asked. “You’re teaching in the spring, right?”

  “Just a med mal seminar for 3Ls.”

  “Then what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think you’ll stay in D.C.?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Do you miss Chicago?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have a life there anymore. Didn’t have much of a life there to begin with.”

  “What about friends?”

  “Didn’t have a lot of time for friends. I hung out with people in law school, stayed in touch with a few, but we weren’t super close. I worked nights then.”

  “You had a job and still managed to go to school?”

  Law school was an entirely different beast when it came to juggling commitments. 1Ls were discouraged from working during the school year—technically “forbidden”—because the workload didn’t really allow for anything other than studying. A few did, but they were in the minority. Some 2Ls and 3Ls worked, but it still wasn’t that common. Law school pretty much consumed everything.

  He nodded. “Yeah I’d work, sleep a few hours, go to class, and do it all over again. I studied on breaks during the day.”

  Now I felt even more pathetic about how much I struggled.

  He squeezed my hand as if he’d read my mind. “You shouldn’t worry about how you measure up. You’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Well, the offer to help is still on the table. Feel free to stop by whenever you have a question. My office hours are on the door. And if you need to meet another time . . .” He hesitated for a second. “Let me see your phone.”

  I handed him my phone with my free hand, our fingers curling around each other as he took it out of my grasp. I didn’t want to let go of the hand I held. Of him. I watched while he punched in a few numbers and then handed it back to me with a smile.

  “In case of law school emergency,” he joked.

  Oh god, now I had his number.

  He smiled at me. “You going to be okay?”

  I’d almost forgotten what we’d been talking about in the first place. He had a way of doing that.

  “Yeah.”

  “How about this? No more worrying about other people’s problems until you’re done with exams. Just focus on yourself for the next month. With all you have going on, you don’t need the extra pressure.”

  “I’ll try.”

  He smiled. “Good. And Blair?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You can call anytime.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rumors are floating around regarding potential misconduct on the Senate Intelligence Committee . . .

  —Capital Confessions blog

  Blair

  I closed my phone’s browser, shoving the cell into the pocket of my jeans, pushing the blog post out of my mind. The election had passed, and
still, not a day went by that my father wasn’t mentioned in Capital Confessions.

  I almost wondered if it was a coordinated effort to take him down, because their focus on him was just too bizarre. He was a big deal in the Senate, and he was definitely the type of man who collected enemies like some people collected stamps, but still. He was a politician. His dickishness wasn’t exactly breaking news.

  I turned to Caitlin—

  “Holy mother of god,” Caitlin screeched, her body coming to a halt at the gym’s entrance so we nearly crashed into each other.

  We were at Greenwood Middle School volunteering with the eighth graders as part of our 1L mentoring program. Caitlin and I were supposed to hang out with a group of girls today, and they’d wanted to come to the gym to play basketball.

  I hadn’t realized what I was getting myself into.

  Judging by the looks on their faces, and the show in front of us, their desire to come to the gym had less to do with their interest in playing basketball, and everything to do with who was playing basketball.

  Holy mother of god, indeed.

  A group of boys were playing an intense game on the gym’s basketball court. I knew nothing about the sport, but judging from the yells and elbow jabbing, the competition was fierce. That barely registered as my gaze joined that of every single female in the gym and settled on Gray.

  He wore a black T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, a pair of black basketball shorts that hit him right above the knee, and a pair of worn sneakers that looked like they’d seen their fair share of time on the court.

  Holy fuckballs.

  And then I saw it.

  Some sort of tribal ink covered his right bicep, black swirls that made me want to suck on his skin and sent a hum of awareness between my thighs. I never imagined that was hiding beneath his suit.

  Sweat ran down his face, his entire body gleaming as he dribbled the ball down the court, positioned his body, took a shot, and the ball arced through the net.

  I had to remind myself to breathe.

  A kid reached out and gave him a complicated-looking high-five and a grin, and then they took off running down the court.