Sometimes Quickly

by Anne Laughlin

  Angie looked unhappier still. “You said I was the best you’d ever had. Why would you blow off the best lover you’ve ever had?”

  “Why indeed?” Peg said. “You wouldn’t. I wouldn’t anyway.” She was on the spot and hated being on the spot. She seemed to be less clever than she used to be at getting out of these uncomfortable run-ins with people she’d pissed off or disappointed. It seemed to be happening all the time lately. She got Angie’s number, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and hurried toward the back room.

  She could hear her colleagues well before she stepped into the room. The volume was a good indicator of their level of inebriation and she gauged it to be between kind of drunk and very drunk. There was still room for more drinking. The room was too big for the crowd. It had a dozen tables, a back bar, a couple of pool tables. She saw nearly everyone from her division hanging around the back bar, including the bride-to-be and Jim Braddock, all of the admins, and three of the paralegals, including Jenna Clark, the lead trial paralegal who worked most closely with Peg on the Lanzito case. Peg was feeling the four or five beers she’d already had at Vixen’s, plus the three shots that went with them. That was but a warm-up. When Jenna approached her offering a drink, she happily took the beer. Jenna looked adorable.

  “Peg!” Braddock bellowed. He walked across the room to her and held her by the elbow. She wondered why everyone felt they needed to grab on to her tonight. “It’s time for you to give the toast to Pam.” He looked like a person having fun torturing someone.

  “Me?”

  She saw all eyes turned to her, some of them bleary, some of them bored. Pam was three sheets to the wind, spilling vodka from her shot glass and being kept mostly upright by her assistant. Peg shot daggers at Braddock before plastering a grin on her face. Someone handed her a shot glass. Doing her best to impersonate someone who cared, she turned to the straggly crowd and gave a reasonably articulate and warm toast.

  She drank her shot with the rest of the group, slamming the glass on the table in perfect unison with the others. Pam came up to her and hugged her in a death grip before suddenly letting go and falling back onto a chair. Her unhappy assistant came over with their coats and tried to point Pam toward the door. Peg and Jenna watched them go.

  “I don’t see how she’ll get home in one piece,” Jenna said.

  “She’ll be okay,” Peg said, looking Jenna over. She was an amazing looking woman. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? She had long auburn hair, an athletic body, skin as clear as a brook, and piercing green eyes. “Why don’t you join me for a drink? I want to touch base with you about something.”

  Jenna cocked her head to the side, as if trying to figure out what Peg was up to. Her eyes were intelligent, and a little skeptical, but Peg could see interest there. She grabbed a couple more beers and led them to a table at the front of the room. A lattice partition running along the side of the table formed a hallway leading to the restrooms. Peg leaned her head against it. She was tired. She should go home. But as she propped her head up and looked intently at Jenna, she felt compelled to see if Jenna would come home with her.

  Jenna shifted in her seat, and Peg realized she was staring and making her uncomfortable. She sat up. “Jenna, how do you feel about your work on the Lanzito case?”

  Jenna looked startled. “Is there a problem with my work? Because I’ve been—”

  “No, no. I worded that badly. How do you feel about working on it? We’re about to get insanely busy.”

  Now Jenna looked confused. “Of course. We’re going to trial soon. This isn’t my first case, you know.”

  Peg sighed. What was happening to her? She was about as smooth as a gravel pit. A server approached with a tray and plunked a couple of shots on their table.

  “These are from the guy over there,” she said, pointing across the room. Peg turned and saw Braddock staring at them with a lascivious smile. He raised his glass to her.

  “God, I can’t stand that guy,” Jenna said. She wrinkled her nose as if something smelled bad.

  Peg laughed. “He thinks he has a way with women. I take it he’s not your type?” she teased her.

  “Even if I were straight, which I’m not, he wouldn’t be my type.”

  Peg grinned. “Huh. I thought you might be gay. Hoped so, anyway. You know I am, don’t you?”

  “I think everyone knows that, Peg.” Jenna smiled at her.

  “Hmm. I don’t know what to make of that.” She threw back her shot and drank some beer, trying to gauge Jenna’s interest. Jenna leaned forward, her hands around her bottle of beer. Her discomfort seemed to have transformed into curiosity, and Peg leaned in to meet her halfway. “Are you looking forward to working your ass off getting ready for trial?”

  Jenna met her gaze. “Is it going to mean really long hours in close proximity to you?”

  “I fear that’s unavoidable.”

  “That’s a shame,” Jenna said, deadpan. She took a drink from her beer, and when she set the bottle down, she covered Peg’s hands with her own. “All those hours will probably mean we’ll be alone in the office.”

  “Inevitably,” Peg said. She brought one of Jenna’s hands to her lips. From the corner of her eye, she saw Braddock pass the table on his way to the bathroom. She kissed Jenna’s palm and knew she was hers. Jenna knew it, and now Braddock knew it as well. She smiled. She released Jenna’s hands and signaled for more drinks.

  “I think I’ve had enough,” Jenna said, pushing the beer she’d been working on to the side. These were words that never passed Peg’s lips. She was confounded by people who knew when they’d had enough, whatever that was. When someone else said it, she always felt it implied she was drinking too much. She worried Jenna would now pull away. It had happened before with other women. She didn’t want it to happen with Jenna. She shifted back to what they had in common.

  “Did you know that I’m prepping Scarpelli in a couple of days?” Peg said. She concentrated on not drinking the shot that sat in front of her.

  “That’s exciting,” Jenna said. She looked interested. “He’s in WITSEC isn’t he?”

  “Yeah. The marshal’s office called today to tell me his location. He’s in a suburb of Albany. Guilderland I think it’s called. They said his house was right next to a Popeye’s, poor bastard. Can you imagine smelling fried chicken every day of your life?” She drank a little beer. Certainly, beer wouldn’t alarm Jenna. “His testimony is the whole key to this case. I’m going to shut down Lanzito with it.”

  “What time is the meeting?” Jenna asked. “Do you have to go up the night before?”

  “Nope, tomorrow night’s all mine, just like tonight. I’ll drive up the day of, probably be back the same night.”

  Jenna reached for Peg’s hands again. “Please be careful. I’m sure there’re a ton of bad guys looking for him.”

  Peg brought Jenna’s hand back to her lips and proposed they get out of Halliday’s. She saw Braddock watching as she and Jenna made their way out of the bar, arm in arm. She loved making him jealous, though it was pathetically easy to do.

  *

  The next morning, a fog of remorse covered Peg like a blanket. Jenna lay next to her, still sleeping, and it was almost more than she could stand. Once again, she had no memory of bringing her home, making love to her. The blackouts were happening more frequently after fewer drinks. She forced herself to look at Jenna. It was the first time she’d seduced someone who worked for her, a line she never thought she’d cross. There were many lines she thought she’d never cross, and few left that she hadn’t.

  She brought coffee to Jenna and gently nudged her awake.

  “Am I where I think I am?” Jenna said. She was drowsy, naked, her lips a little bruised, her neck marked in several places. Peg winced.

  “I’m afraid you are. Have some coffee.”

  Peg waited until Jenna had settled against the headboard, her sheet drawn up to cover her breasts, before handing her a cup. “I’m very embarrassed that t
his happened, Jenna.”

  Jenna frowned. “Embarrassed? Like you’re embarrassed to have the likes of me in your bed?”

  “No. Embarrassed that I brought one of my staff into my bed.”

  “Oh, that. Don’t worry about it. At the office we’ll pretend like nothing’s going on.” She drank more coffee.

  Peg drew a breath. “But there is nothing going on. This was a one-time thing. It has to be. I’m sorry if you felt differently.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jenna’s brow lowered. “I’ve heard the stories about you, but I was one of the few who didn’t think they were true.”

  Peg knew she was the idiot. She’d proven it to herself countless times. Jenna might have been someone she would see again, but she was her boss. She’d known that the night before, but it hadn’t given her a moment’s pause. Today she had to disappoint someone to minimize her own wrongdoing. She had to reduce Jenna to another of her infamous one-night stands. She was an idiot and she was cruel. Jenna put her coffee down and left without another word. Peg didn’t try to stop her.

  The following day, Jenna called in sick, much to Peg’s relief. She prepared for her meeting with Scarpelli and drove up to Guilderland the next day. She’d managed to get obliterated the night before, breaking the thousandth promise to not have a hangover on important workdays. A deputy marshal brought fried chicken in for lunch, and she thought she’d be sick at the sight and smell of it. Scarpelli was not particularly bright. It took more patience than she had to get him in line. As she drove back to the city that evening, she was unsure she’d done a good job with him and unsure she even cared. She threw her bag and coat to the floor when she got home and made a beeline to the refrigerator. She was out of beer. The only thing in the fridge was an old bottle of rosé wine someone had left behind and she’d never before stooped to drinking. She unscrewed the cap and put the bottle to her lips. She was too tired to go to the corner store.

  In the morning, Peg settled behind her desk and wondered how much she would have to cross paths with Jenna. She felt absurdly relieved when she saw an e-mail from her saying she’d be out of the office for the day. Before she drank from her first cup of coffee, her boss called her into his office. A summons to the corner office could mean anything. She was often in there talking over various open cases. But it could also mean that he’d found out she slept with a subordinate. Strangely, she wasn’t nervous. The growing part of her that didn’t give a shit made nerves irrelevant.

  Alexander Shuman had been U.S. attorney for only slightly longer than Peg had been an ADA. He had a particular zeal for prosecuting mob cases, and during his tenure, significant dents had been made in several organizations. As head of the organized crime division and one of his best courtroom advocates, Peg was his lieutenant in this crusade, and they had a respectful and businesslike relationship. Shuman pointed her to one of the desk chairs, and she wondered if she was about to get fired.

  “What’s up, Alex?” she said. She lifted her cup and found her hand trembling. She wrapped her other hand around it, but some of the coffee sloshed onto her black suit. Some days her hands shook violently, others not. It would have been better if today was not one of them.

  Shuman was impeccably dressed, as always, sitting with his back ramrod straight in his leather chair. He was obviously ex-military. There was a file, a pen, and a legal pad on his enormous mahogany desk and nothing else. The wood gleamed. He watched her as she struggled with her cup of coffee.

  “I’ve just received some disturbing news, Peg. Very disturbing.”

  He was definitely going to fire her. She felt disappointed that Jenna had told on her. It seemed out of character. “Okay. Let me hear it.”

  “Tad Scarpelli was shot last night. A bullet through a phalanx of marshals, obviously professionally done.” He looked intently at Peg’s face.

  Peg felt her jaw drop open. “Fuck,” came flying out of her mouth before she could censor herself. No one said fuck in front of Alex Shuman.

  “My feeling exactly,” he said. “A deputy marshal was wounded, pretty badly from what I’m told.” He paused. “Without Scarpelli, our case is destroyed. How could this have happened?”

  “You’re asking me?” Peg felt outraged at what she assumed was an accusation. “Do you think, what, that I called a pal from the Lanzito family and gave them the address?”

  Shuman leaned back in his chair. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Peg, nor is it helpful. We have the FBI about to barge through our doors to investigate this mess, and I won’t lie to them. As far as I know, the only one in this office that knew Scarpelli’s location is you. That’s correct, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re sure? No one could have looked at a file, overheard a conversation?” He didn’t sound like he wanted to hang her out to dry. She tried to calm down.

  “No. I wrote it down in my phone, and that’s password protected. No one else knew in this office.”

  “There were very few anywhere who knew where Scarpelli was, so it shouldn’t be too hard to track down the leak. I imagine the agents will give you a going over.”

  Peg was resigned. “I imagine they will.”

  “In the meantime, go over the case file, see if there’s any possible way to get a conviction without Scarpelli’s testimony. I don’t see how there can be, but give me your assessment.”

  Peg returned to her office. The news was shocking, but it also triggered something deeper than that. She felt uneasy. It wasn’t possible anyone in her office was responsible for the leak. She hadn’t told anyone anything. This was the kind of cockup that got different agencies blaming each other. Someone’s head would roll, that was certain. She’d just as soon it not be hers, but she knew she had to be a prime suspect.

  Two agents arrived shortly before noon to interview her. Peg had worked with John Butler on numerous cases. His partner, Sam, was new. She always thought Butler looked just this side of a heart attack. He smoked, had an enormous beer gut, got no exercise whatsoever. Sam, on the other hand, didn’t have an ounce of fat to spare. His cheeks were hollow and his eyes sunken. She dreaded the interview. She felt like she didn’t have a firm grasp on the situation, that there was something she didn’t know. She looked at the agents as they settled around the worktable in her office. They made the room seem very small. Her heart was running fast and loud. She thought it must sound like a war drum to the others in the room.

  John skipped the pleasantries and got right to the point. This was unlike when they usually got together and shot the shit for a while. Peg felt the air was leaden with suspicion. “Peg, would you take us through what you did from the time you were told Scarpelli’s address by the marshal’s office until last night? We want every detail.”

  She tried for a nonchalant tone. Sharing every detail was going to be tough when she didn’t remember half of them. “Of course. I left the office shortly after I talked with the deputy marshal. I didn’t talk to anyone else before leaving for the day. I stopped off at a bar in the Village.” She managed a wry smile. “Yes, John, a lesbian bar, before you bother asking. I went from there to—”

  “Hold up,” John said. “We need to hear who you talked to and what you did while you were there.” Sam looked at her suspiciously, as if she were trying to get away with something. He sat hunched over his notebook.

  “It’s pretty damn boring, I’m sorry to say,” Peg said. “No dyke drama at Vixen’s that night.”

  They both looked at her, pens poised.

  “Vixen’s has a new bartender. She just started this week, so I spent some time getting to know her. She’s cute.” She smiled at them.

  “What did you talk about?” Sam asked.

  “I can honestly say none of it had to do with my work. It was mostly about her. I was curious.”

  John snorted but didn’t say anything.

  “Who else did you talk to?” Sam asked.

  Peg shrugged. “That was it. As I said, boring.”

 
; “How many drinks did you have?” Sam asked.

  Peg looked at John. “Really?”

  “Just answer the question, Peg.”

  “I had one drink. Then I left for Halliday’s.” The idea that she had only one drink in two hours at Vixen’s was ludicrous, but they didn’t need to know that.

  “Take us through your time at Halliday’s,” John said.

  She couldn’t remember everything that happened at Halliday’s, but if she said that, she might as well tell them she did it. Who else would they blame if they knew they had a drunken ADA in a blackout? But if she made it up about the period of time she didn’t remember, she risked being contradicted by others who were there, including Jenna. She really didn’t have a choice. She lied.

  “I got there around eight. The party was well underway by then. I toasted the lawyer whose engagement party it was, and then I spent the rest of my time there with Jenna, my paralegal.”

  “How many drinks did you have there?” Sam asked. Peg found him irritating as hell. She pretended to count them up in her head.

  “Maybe four—three beers and a shot.”

  “That puts you at five drinks for the night. Most people would consider that inebriated,” Sam said.

  “Would they?” Peg knew she’d really had over ten drinks by late in the evening, and she considered that to be an average night. “What can I say? The Irish process alcohol differently.”

  “You’re saying you weren’t drunk?” Sam said, his pen poised over the page.

  “I’m saying I didn’t feel drunk. No one gave me a breathalyzer.”

  John laughed. “What did you and Jenna talk about?”

  “We’re working on the Lanzito case together so we began by talking about it.”

  They were both staring at her now, waiting for more. Some coin dropped in Peg’s messy brain, and she suddenly knew she’d given Jenna the location of the witness. It was hazy, but it was irrefutable. Her face felt like it was going to shatter, the mask of nonchalance shot through with cracks. She almost squeezed her eyes shut to compose herself. Instead, she forced herself to look amused.