Rebecca rose as if to stop me as I popped up behind my desk and took a few purposeful steps toward Asher’s office, but I paid no attention to her. I pushed the door open and crossed the room to stand right in front of his desk. He looked up at me, surprise written all over his chiseled features. I had been angry, annoyed, and irritated for the past few days. I had said all kinds of things to him in my head, told him off for being a jerk, for disappearing without a word, for ignoring me. But standing in front of him, looking at him, my tongue grew heavy and my lips seemed stuck together.
I berated myself for my cowardice. Was it cowardice? I didn’t feel afraid, but at the same time I couldn’t bring myself to yell at him the way I had wanted to just a few minutes before. Looking across the desk at him, the only thing I wanted to do was kiss him.
“Did you need something?” he asked, polite and reserved. His manner, so casual, drove me nuts.
“Where have you been all week?” I didn’t want to launch into anything too personal too soon. If he wasn’t going to even acknowledge the night we spent together, if it meant that little to him, then I wasn’t going to open myself up either.
“I’ve been working.”
“Well, aren’t you supposed to be, like, mentoring me? I haven’t seen you since Tuesday morning and even then you only said five words to me. If you don’t want me interning with you, you just have to say something, but I need more from you if this is going to go forward.”
He sat there and stared at me quietly for a few moments. It felt like minutes. His face gave away nothing about his thoughts or how he felt. I began to squirm inside. I knew I was in the right, but his calm quiet unnerved me. Finally, he broke the silence.
“What are you doing for dinner tonight?”
“Um…I…I don’t have any plans.” I was so taken aback by the question that I fumbled for an answer.
“Good. Go home and get changed.”
“Wait, hang on.” I was flustered by the sudden change. One second, I was laying into him for ignoring me and the next, he was taking me out to dinner as if I hadn’t said anything. Or did he ask me out because of what I’d said. Not that he even asked me out, he just assumed I would want to go out with him. I mean, I did, but that wasn’t the point. Indignation battled with desire. I wanted to go to dinner with him, but I was upset with myself that I wanted to.
“Where are we going?” The desire won out.
“Somewhere nice. So…a cocktail dress will do. Maybe wear your hair up. I will pick you up at your apartment at eight.”
I left the office with a little ball of excitement tingling in my stomach. I wasn’t sure if it was my confrontation that led to him changing his behavior, but I took it as a sign that being direct and saying what I wanted was the right thing to do. Even if this guy made my brain turn to mush and my insides fill with swarming butterflies, I had to state my desires if I wanted them fulfilled. The other night, it seemed like he could read every subtle signal my body offered, but I couldn’t expect that to translate to every other aspect of life.
* * *
Back at my apartment, I went through the handful of appropriate dresses that I owned and settled on a black lace over black sleeveless dress. The skirt flared out from the waist, which made my waist and legs look slimmer. It was a bit wrinkled, so I brought it into the bathroom with me while I stepped into a steaming hot shower. I had been carrying so much tension and emotion throughout the week. Asher’s distance at the courthouse, and then his absence for the rest of the week, had made me questioning everything about the night we’d spent together. I knew I shouldn’t build it up too much. I knew from the way Rebecca looked at him, from the way Reyna Martinez, the prosecutor, laughed at his jokes, that he had probably been with both of them before. Or if he hadn’t, that they were thinking about it and he knew it. That kind of guy, you couldn’t assume he was going to call you the next day.
The hot water calmed me down, settled my nerves. I decided that I was going to make sure that I didn’t let myself get too far down the rabbit hole with Asher. He would be fun, nice to spend an evening with, but nothing more. He was certainly charming, but it was the easy kind of charm that he spent liberally on anything female. I had to remember that when he was talking to me, smiling at me, making me feel like I was the only woman in the world, that every woman he talked to felt the same way.
He was downstairs at exactly eight o’clock, just as he’d said. He didn’t call, honk his horn, or ring the bell. He was just there. Expecting me to be on time as well. I looked out the window and saw him leaning against his car, a Jaguar, I thought, though I wasn’t great with cars. He wasn’t tapping his toe or checking his phone; he was just waiting patiently. That was one of the things I had noticed early on about him. His discipline. No matter the situation, he always appeared to be in control of himself. It was a manner of being that made you comfortable around him. You never had to worry that he would just fly off the handle or act out of anger. As I gathered up my purse and jacket, I felt a twinge. That was what made his lack of communication that week so galling. He was so deliberate, he must have been deliberately cutting me off.
No matter. Like I told myself before, I wasn’t going to fall into the trap of expecting more of him than he was able to give. I would just take what good there was to offer and not worry about the rest. He opened the car door for me, like a gentleman, and we sped off downtown.
Asher handed the keys to the young guy in the red jacket at the valet counter. He held my hand as I followed him through a maze of corridors. The building we had stopped in front of didn’t look like much, but then again, there were all kinds of new bars and restaurants popping up in downtown LA. As recently as fifteen years ago, the downtown area was completely dead after six when all the office workers went to their homes to the north and west. But billions of dollars in new development had led to as close to a real city feel in Los Angeles as anything it had ever had.
We turned a corner and went down a wide staircase. It took a little while for my eyes to adjust to the low light, but the restaurant that emerged from the gloom was beautiful. A large open space in front of a U-shaped bar was filled with small tables at standing height. The walls were lined with tufted leather booths in curved alcoves.
“Good evening, Mr. Dean,” the hostess greeted Asher by name. Of course, they knew him. Or maybe he made it a point to take me to a restaurant where he knew he’d be recognized. Was he trying to impress me? As we followed the hostess across the room and through a door marked ‘Private’, he was doing a fairly good job.
A narrow hallway led to another door, old wood and stained glass. The hostess opened the door and stood aside to let us through. Asher placed his hand on the small of my back and encouraged me to go first. When I walked through, my eyes opened wide. It was a private dining room with a small table that appeared to be carved from a single piece of wood, its roots still visible and the edges left organic. For as dark as the bar was, this room was luminous, bathed in a soft orange-yellow light. A Tiffany’s stained-glass chandelier hung from the high ceiling, whose vaults were painted with frescoes. The room looked like it had been transported from the twenties.
Asher pulled out my chair and I sat down. The hostess left and we were left there alone.
“She didn’t give us any menus,” I said, unsure how else to begin the conversation.
“No need. The chef is preparing something special for us tonight.”
Chapter 14 - Cora
The room had a soft instrumental playing, but otherwise was completely quiet. None of the noise and bustle from the bar outside was able to penetrate. Almost as soon as the hostess had left, a waiter came in and silently opened a bottle of wine. The label was in French and was yellowed with age. I was not much of a wine drinker. I enjoyed drinking wine; I just didn’t know very much about it. But when the waiter poured the red liquid into my glass, I could smell the difference between this and the cheap bottles that I had a tendency to buy. It had none of the sha
rpness or smell of alcohol. It was like walking in an orchard, the scents of earth, wood, and fruit all mingling together. My mouth started watering.
Asher picked up his own glass once the waiter had left.
“To your first week on the job.”
I lifted my own glass in response and we lightly clinked them together, the sound resonating in the quiet space. The taste of the wine exceeded the promise offered by its smell. Flavor exploded in my mouth and a warmth immediately spread from my center throughout my body.
I looked up at Asher, who was smiling cryptically. Despite the fact that he had invited me out, he was oddly hesitant to begin the conversation. I was not comfortable with long silences, so I decided to open things up.
“Asher, why did you take on the Warner case if she doesn’t have any money? You said that you only defended guilty people because they were the ones who could pay. But you argued on Tuesday that she couldn’t make bail. It doesn’t make sense.”
He tilted his glass to his lips again, taking another sip of wine so red and luminous that it could have been liquid rubies. I watched his Adam’s apple work up and down as he swallowed. The muscles around his neck flexed and relaxed. He took a few moments before responding.
“What I told you before is true, guilty clients are better for your bottom line. And I was telling the truth in court, that Amber could not make bail at one million.”
“So, why did you take her on then?”
“Let me tell you a bit about how criminal justice really works. Let’s say you are a poor black or Latino man and you get arrested for drug possession. Now, maybe the cops performed a proper search or maybe they didn’t. These days, the Fourth Amendment isn’t what it used to be, but there are still limits to what police can do. Now, innocent or guilty, the reality is, it doesn’t matter. Because you will get a public defender who is even more overworked and underfunded than the prosecutor. You are lucky if you meet your lawyer five minutes before the hearing. Then you will be pressured into a plea deal because nobody wants to waste the time on your case. Now, there are two groups of people who can afford to pay a top shelf defense attorney: successful criminals and wealthy civilians.”
“So why are you defending her?”
“I’m getting to that,” he said, seeming slightly annoyed that I had interrupted his dissertation. “A case like this is often good advertising. It is high profile and the defendant is an attractive white woman. It is going to be featured on the news for months.”
“But you already have a great reputation, everyone seems to know you, and you are at the best defense firm in Southern California. Do you really need to get more publicity?”
He took another drink from his glass and looked up at the ceiling. The line of questioning seemed to make him uncomfortable. I wondered why. I also wondered whether I wanted to push it any further. He came off as such a cynical operator, someone who saw all the angles and was always looking out for his own bottom line. But this didn’t make very much sense.
He was hiding something, but I couldn’t think of what it might be.
We sat in an uncomfortable silence for another few moments, and then the waiter came back in and set down the first course - a series of crostini with wild mushrooms, tomatoes, and other vegetables.
The food was consumed without any conversation. Asher was quiet. He did not offer any further clarification or comment on the Warner case, or anything else for that matter. For someone who was always in control, he seemed strangely flustered. Still, I wanted to enjoy a nice evening out, so I didn’t push the issue.
“Tell me a bit about your family,” I asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different, lighter direction. It did not have the result I had intended.
Asher’s face darkened.
“I don’t talk to my family. They cut me off a few years ago.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I hope I didn’t upset you.”
“It’s fine.” His face softened. “My father is a colossal prick, but he is a rich one. He made a lot of money in commercial real estate. You may have seen signs for Dean Partners on some of the new buildings going up downtown. He paid for me to go to law school because he wanted me to work for the company. When I took another job in criminal defense, he was furious. Said he was going to liquidate my trust fund, cut me out of the will. It pissed me off. So, I decided to defend one of the workers at an office tower they were building who had been accused of stealing supplies. It looked like a nothing case. I took it for spite more than anything else. But in the course of investigating, I found that the construction company had been working with my father to overstate their purchases and then claim the thefts as losses to the insurance company.”
He popped one of the crostini in his mouth.
“Since then, I’ve been unwelcome at family events.”
I was shocked. He had cultivated such an attitude of cynical detachment that it felt strange to imagine him standing up for the little guy on principle, even if the principle were simply sticking it to his father. I reflected on how little I really knew about Asher Dean.
“At one point, they even tried to cut me out of the business entirely, but my ownership stake came from my grandfather, so I still own a good percentage. But they did decide to cut out any dividends, so I don’t get any money from it unless I sell. Which is what they want anyway.”
The conversation turned lighter as the dinner wore on. Course after course came out, along with more bottles of wine. I had begun to feel overwhelmed by the profusion of flavors as well as the alcohol. With the initial awkwardness passed, we carried on what felt like a completely normal dinner date.
About an hour in, Asher excused himself to go to the restroom. I was left in the private room by myself. I poured myself another glass of wine, luxuriating in the heady aroma. The courses were small, but there were a lot of them. I was nearly full. But the food was so good that I couldn’t stop myself from taking another forkful of saffron risotto.
Asher had been gone for longer than I would have thought normal for a trip to the bathroom. By that time, the wine had already started putting pressure on my bladder, so I got up, opened the door, and stepped into the hallway. I walked back along the path we had come in on, but before I got to the main room, I heard voices talking in hushed, but urgent tones. One of them was Asher’s.
I peeked around the corner and saw Asher talking with two men. They were both dressed well, in tailored suits, but something about their manner shouted violence. One of them was standing right in Asher’s face while the other loomed to the side.
“Don’t worry, I will handle it,” Asher said. He looked calm, but I didn’t see how it was possible. “I told you it wouldn’t be a problem and it isn’t.”
“Listen to me, Dean. We are patient, but we have limits. You know what is at stake here.”
“Of course I know. You know I know. I am taking care of it.”
The big man in front of Asher raised his hand and pointed a finger right into his face.
“You had better. Because if she goes down, well, there are going to be consequences. And not just for her.”
I kept myself hidden behind the corner until the sound of the two men leaving faded. When I came out, Asher was still standing there, staring at his feet. He heard me approaching and snapped his head up. He immediately composed his face, but I could tell that he was shaken. I tried to affect a breezy demeanor and he smiled at me.
“Sorry, I ran into a couple of friends at the bar. The restroom is just through the door and to the left.”
He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. It was an oddly familiar, intimate act that felt out of place. Asher was definitely a little off after that confrontation. I wanted to ask him about it, but the pressure on my bladder was too insistent.
When I got back to the private dining room, Asher was sitting comfortably, composed, leaning back against the thickly padded chair. I slid into my own seat and tucked into the new dish that had been brought in my
absence. My favorite course, dessert. A warm, sinfully dark slice of chocolate cake dripping with ganache and paired with a scoop of homemade vanilla ice cream. I didn’t have much room left, but I decided to do my best. Even if I was a bit overstuffed, it looked like it would be worth it. I took a forkful of the cake and swept it through the melting ice cream. Heaven.
Asher was eating quietly, watching me from across the table. Despite the fact that I was eager to just dive into the dessert and forget about everything, I couldn’t go any longer without asking about the confrontation in the hallway.
“Asher, who were those guys you were you talking to in the hallway?”
His face twitched almost imperceptibly.
“Like I told you, I ran into some friends.”
“It didn’t sound like a friendly conversation.”
“You were listening in?” His voice tightened. I wondered how far I could push him on this. I didn’t want to ruin the evening, but at the same time, if something serious was going on, I wanted to know.
“Just the tone. It sounded intense,” I lied. He relaxed slightly.
“A little disagreement. I have some business interests outside of the practice and we were discussing business.”
I didn’t believe him. It sounded to me like those guys were talking about the Warner case. Could there be something going on besides the murder? Asher clearly didn’t want to talk about it. He must have been afraid of those guys, or whoever they were working for. Is that why he took the case? Was the murder connected to something bigger?
There were too many questions to ask and Asher was not going to answer them. He smiled and tried to change the subject.
“How is the cake?”
“The whole dinner has been amazing.”
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