Coffee, Sex and Law

by Avril Rose

  I walk into the shop and immediately the landline rings. I hurry to pick up so Victor doesn’t have to stop serving the customer he’s with.

  “Temple Coffee, how can I help?” I say as cheerfully as possible.

  “...”

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Miss Pasquier.”

  I don’t recognize the deep masculine voice.

  “Erh, hello. Who is this?”

  “We have a mutual friend. He asked me to deliver a message. And I did just that, overnight.”

  I’m silent, shocked by this unexpected – and clearly threatening – phone call.

  “That was only the beginning, Miss Pasquier. So,” he continues, “are you going to sell now?”

  He hangs up without waiting for a reply. The blood drains from my face and I feel like I can’t breathe. The telephone is still up to my ear when I turn to Victor, silently calling to him for help.

  ***

  “Tell me again what he said, Zoe, word for word,” Victor asks again, once the rush of customers has been served.

  And I repeat the mystery caller’s words for the third time, their meaning crystal clear.

  “Anderson! I told you, Zoe. This guy is dangerous. And capable of anything! Will you take me seriously now?”

  I nod, completely overwhelmed by what is happening.

  “We have to sell, Zoe.”

  “Wh... what? No! No! Out of the question."

  “What are you trying to achieve by refusing? You aren’t on the same level as these guys, missy!”

  “Don’t call me that!” I say, almost screaming. “I’m not a little girl. I’m your business partner! This is what I’m going to do: I’m going to file a police report and see if they can trace the call.”

  I take my purse, both enraged and shaking after standing up to Victor like that.

  Sell? He doesn’t understand at all!

  When I get back to Temple Coffee it’s almost three in the afternoon.

  Great, it’s usually quiet about now and I should be able to talk to him.

  “I filed a report. The police said not to get my hopes up. The fingerprinting revealed nothing, and neither did their investigation in the neighborhood. The call was probably made with a cell phone that can't be traced. But you never know.”

  “Did you contact your childhood friend, that Stevenson guy?”

  “Yeah, I was just going to tell you about that. Gaël called me this morning.”

  “And?” he asks anxiously.

  “A good friend of his told him a team of journalists was already investigating Anderson. Some of the journalists were pressured.”

  Victor is suddenly paying much closer attention.

  “What kind of pressure?”

  A heavy silence sits between us.

  “Physical,” I say simply.

  “Physical?”

  “Yes. Intimidation, being shoved or pushed down in the street. And one of them even spent a little time in the hospital.”

  “And they have proof that Anderson was behind these acts of ‘pressure’?”

  "Unfortunately no. Anderson gives orders to his men who find lackeys to do the dirty work. And they’re probably hired by another middleman. So it’s hard to trace things back to him. And even when you can, he has connections, even in France. He makes sure his name is erased, as if by magic.”

  “What kind of connections?”

  “Politicians, businessmen, judges, and more,” I list, feeling jaded and powerless.

  “I told you. Anderson is well connected and he has a solid support network. It's crazy, really. The lure of profit brings out the worst vices. We live in a corrupt world. Is the investigation still ongoing?” he asks.

  “Yeah, the journalists who managed to keep their identity secret are still going. Some of them have even infiltrated Anderson’s teams, apparently. Gaël didn’t want to say any more to make sure they remain protected.”

  “Infiltrated? Who? Do you have names?” Victor pushes.

  “No! I told you, he didn’t give me any more information. What's going on, Victor? You’re as white as a sheet! Do you feel okay?”

  “I... No, it’s nothing. I’m just worried about you, Zoe. This Anderson guy won’t let anyone stand in his way, especially a woman who refuses to sell for sentimental reasons.”

  “It may seem crazy to you, but I’m not afraid of him.”

  Seeing his dismayed expression, I continue.

  “Look, Gaël sent me a recent photo.”

  I show him the picture on my phone.

  Domenic Anderson. In his fifties, salt-and-pepper hair, a blindingly white smile, handsome, medium height, thin. But behind his seductive eyes, I can make out his manipulative, ill-intentioned depths.

  Victor looks at the photo with a stony expression.

  “Never seen him before,” he says.

  I get up from my chair and squeeze his shoulder before walking out.

  I don't tell him my plan, because what I’m thinking would not make him happy.

  ***

  Temple Coffee means so much to me. It was my dad’s whole life and it’s become mine now, too.

  I’m not afraid of Anderson and I’ve decided I won’t be intimidated by broken dishes.

  Bring it on, Al Capone!

  I walk, determined, my eyes on my screen as I concentrate on the map that is taking me to Anderson’s French headquarters.

  This is what I’m going to do: present myself at the reception desk and firmly ask to speak with Domenic Anderson. I won’t leave until I’ve seen him. When we’re face-to-face, I will tell him in person everything I think about his dealings and I will confirm that I will never sell Temple Coffee. Never.

  My heart begins to race as I cross the street and approach my destination.

  And then my heart stops. Suddenly.

  Liam?

  No. It can't be him!

  I hold my breath as I watch him leave the building I'm about to enter, shaking the hand of Anderson himself.

  Suddenly, his eyes meet mine. He remains impassive and cold. I back away, incredulous and feeling lost. He doesn’t move an inch. In fact, he continues talking with my enemy, the one who wants to hurt me, totally ignoring my presence.

  My legs start moving, apparently on the orders of my subconscious, as my eyes fill with tears. I run away.

  What does this mean? Why is Liam with Anderson? There must be a rational explanation. He can't have... I don’t even dare think the word. After all the amazing moments we’ve spent together, it can't be that. No one is that good at faking it. Or are they?

  My mind races and things begin to pop up in my memory, one by one, slapping me across the face harder each time.

  His innocent questions that morning when I got the e-mail from my bank, even daring to ask if I’d thought of selling the shop. Idiot!

  His invitation to dinner the night of the break-in. He even managed to keep me in his bed so his dear client’s underlings could have free play. You’re an imbecile!

  And his way of not asking me questions about my work problems. I thought he was just being tactful and respectful. He already knew everything, that’s why he wasn’t asking any questions! A real dumbass!!!

  I wipe the tears from my cheeks with my sleeve.

  Betrayed. There. I said it.

  He betrayed me. And my body shakes as the reality finally hits me.

  From the very beginning, Liam had one goal: to get that contract with Anderson.

  He came into the coffee shop, day after day, seduced me, made me believe he liked me, that everything was different with me, that I broke through his walls – even inviting me to spend the night – and there I was, actually getting attached to him. Betrayal leaves a bitter taste, and the pain is worse that I could have ever imagined.

  All that for a damn contract?!

  I h
ave been so wrong about him. I trusted him and felt so good around him. How can you lie to someone like that? He seemed so sincere. But from the beginning, he knew everything.

  I remember bits and pieces of a recent conversation we had: “Winning new cases is what gets me out of bed in the morning. I need new challenges to feel stimulated.”

  He really took me for a fool! He used me. Just like Gaspard. I’m going to get “Use me to further your career” tattooed on my forehead. I’m such a naive loser!

  The worst part is his fake support, pretending to be so kind after the café was ravaged. And to think, all that time, he knew.

  Stop, Zoe!

  Now I know who I’m dealing with.

  I’m overwhelmed with contradicting emotions: sadness, rage, suffering, anger. But they all have one thing in common: their violent intensity.

  ***

  At closing time, the café door opens and Liam walks in. He looks as elegant as ever, but much less sure of himself. There’s no doubt that he’s trying to gauge just how angry, sad, and bitter I am. His jaw is tight. You might think it was pain he was feeling, but I know exactly what it is: he’s afraid of failing, his face marked by his desire to succeed.

  And that’s why I’m not one bit surprised to see him here. After all, he hasn’t reached his goal of convincing me to sell to his future mega client.

  What cards does he think he’s going to play now after using me like that?

  If he thinks I'm going to give him a chance to explain, he has another thing coming!

  “Zoe! I really need to talk to you about this afternoon. About Anderson, I—”

  “Stop!”

  "It's not what you think, I—"

  “I said stop. I don’t want to hear a word from you. Never again. I knew you were an opportunist, but I didn't think it was your defining characteristic. You’re a hypocrite, a manipulator. Your entire personality is a lie. You really had me going. Right from the start.”

  “That’s not true, I—”

  “You do not speak to me, do you understand?” I say, firmly cutting him off. “I do not want to see you. Or hear you. First impressions are often the most accurate, and I should have trusted that. You're an arrogant, selfish, superficial asshole. You only exist to shine in the eyes of Daddy, huh?” I laugh cynically. “Well, way to go, your dad would be proud of you. Now, leave!”

  A huge, painful lump is throbbing in my stomach, rising to my throat and making it hard to breathe. I can’t say another word. I managed to get out what I needed to, coldly and without revealing the powerful feelings I have for him. That’s the most important, and I can be proud of myself. I refuse to let him see how much he has hurt me, how stupid I’ve been to fall in love with him.

  In love?! The strength of my feelings for Liam hit me square in the face. I never even realized how strongly I felt until now. It’s like another slap in the face, at the worst possible time.

  Everything was so perfect. He was so perfect.

  I feel the tears well up and cloud my vision, but I still manage to contain them. I know the dam is about to break, though.

  “That’s really what you think of me?! You think I’m capable of betraying you like that?” he asks, deeply saddened.

  “Stop it, Liam! Don’t pretend to be hurt or shocked. I saw you, goddammit!”

  At this exact moment, I want him to suffer as much as I am.

  “I wonder what you would have done with your life without your dear Daddy to guide his cherished only son,” I say scathingly. “You and I were doomed from the start. We have completely opposite values! You only think about yourself and your bank account. You’ll end up alone, and that’s what you deserve! I hate you and everything you stand for!”

  Straight to the heart.

  He leaves, giving me one last look, speechless. His face is closed off, his jaw tight.

  “Great acting, really!” I say, applauding before he shuts the door. “If your firm falls on hard times, maybe you should go to a few auditions – really, it's impressive!”

  What did he think? That I was really that naive? After everything he’s done to me! He betrayed me, used me, and then what? He thought he’d walk in here, explain it all away and I’d fall back into his arms?

  I still can’t believe it. He seemed so genuine with me. My mind wanders to the past again, reliving our most intimate, passionate moments. Our shared secrets.

  Was it all a sham? I can’t accept it. How am I going to forget him? I'm losing control of my life. At work, I’m about to crash and burn if I don’t find a loan. And my personal life is a living hell. I’ve never loved a man like that. But I didn’t fall in love with the real Liam. He’s left a gaping hole in my chest.

  The Liam effect.

  15

  Liam

  I’ve been pacing my living room for hours, going over what’s happened today.

  I had no idea Zoe would come to see Anderson this afternoon. She has every reason to be angry and think I’ve been manipulating her from the start.

  If only she’d let me explain my real reasons for being there. I was just trying to help her!

  How could I ever betray her? I love her...

  The hurtful words she said to me hit me hard and they echo in my head. She was angry, that's for sure. But anger doesn’t excuse everything. How could she say all those awful things?

  That must be what she really thinks of me. That without my dad, I’m nothing. That without him, I would have wasted my life away. I’ve been fighting that prejudice since I got to college, trying to break away from the image of daddy’s little boy, trying to prove to the entire world that I’m an excellent lawyer, with or without my dad. And the woman I’ve fallen in love with just said it again, looking me right in the eyes. And worst of all, she said she hates me.

  I feel wounded. My pride and my values have been bashed.

  The disappointment is oppressive. I was wrong about Zoe. From the start, she said she understood my life and my desire to succeed. But it wasn’t true: she could never put her prejudice aside, despite how well we clicked, our long talks, and everything we shared.

  I feel gutted. To have lost her.

  At least I know what I’m dealing with when it comes to Anderson. By winning his trust, I’ve learned just how far he’ll go, and I know Zoe’s life is in danger if she continues to stand up to him.

  It’s time to talk to my dad. He may end up most affected by my mistakes. I grab my phone and dial his number.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, Liam!”

  “How are you doing?”

  “I'm good, very good, even. I’m taking time for myself and I have to say, it’s quite nice.”

  “You’re not too bored at home?” I ask, surprised.

  “Not even! Incredible, isn't it?"

  I’m happy to hear him in such good spirits, and so relaxed. I feel a twinge of guilt over calling him to talk about the firm.

  “Well, I’m guessing you didn’t just call to make sure I was following your mother’s orders,” he jokes.

  “No, you’re right. I need to talk to you about Domenic Anderson.”

  “Is there a problem?” he asks, suddenly serious.

  “Yes, I’m faced with a... an ethical dilemma.”

  "I'm listening."

  I explain the situation, Anderson’s plan and the threats against Zoe.

  “Well, Liam, we knew the man wasn’t a saint. That’s what made us think twice before working for him.”

  “Yeah, I remember. But I didn't think he was capable of going this far.”

  “Me neither, to be honest. I’m not surprised he puts pressure on people that stand in his way, but I didn’t think he would damage property, and I’m especially surprised to find out about the emotional and physical harassment. How is your friend Zoe?”

  “She was brave about the break-in. But she’s determined to stan
d up to him and won’t be intimidated. I’m scared for her. For her life.”

  “Okay. But why are you calling me?”

  “I need your help to figure out what to do.”

  “I think what’s most important is what you want to do.”

  “I don’t have a damn clue. If I keep working for Anderson, I won’t be able to look at myself in the mirror ever again, and I’ll be partly responsible if anything happens to Zoe. But if I stop working for him right after winning his trust, he’s going to feel betrayed and will do everything to ruin the firm.”

  “So that’s what this is about,” he notes calmly.

  "What?”

  “The firm.”

  “The firm, you, everything you’ve built your entire life. I’m so mad at myself for wanting to work for them. I wanted so badly to make your dream come true,” I admit.

  “What dream are you talking about?”

  “Opening a branch in California, obviously!”

  “Liam,” he sighs. “I’m proud of what I built, it’s true. I’ve never hidden my ambition to expand to the United States. But I have values. The values I taught you. I will never go against my values to achieve my dream. If you want my approval to choose to go with your values, you have it. Even if it destroys the firm.”

  I'm speechless. I was convinced that no matter what, my father would choose his company.

  “I trust you, Liam. And I will support your decision.”

  "Thank you, Dad. If only I hadn't started working for the guy.”

  “What’s done is done. Now we have to do damage control.”

  “How can I?”

  “Remember: don’t think of the glass as half-empty.”

  “How could I see it as half-full?” I ask, intrigued.

  “You may be able to turn things around to your advantage.”

  “How?” I insist.

  “He doesn't know you know Zoe."

  He doesn't know you know Zoe.

  I repeat the sentence over and over.

  My dad is right. Anderson trusts me and he doesn’t know I’m aware of his role in the Temple Coffee break-in. I may have one chance to bring him down. It would be the best possible outcome: protect Zoe and protect the firm.