by A. K. Rose
“Jess,” the voice whispered from behind her, a tap landing on her shoulder after she heard her name.
Turning slowly, she saw Cassie sitting on the bench directly behind her. Jessica waved and smiled, and turned back to try again to focus on the job at hand. She’d talk to Cassie when they broke for lunch in half an hour, after opening remarks. She wasn’t expecting her friend that day; Cassie must’ve been in court herself.
Jess’s firm—Anderson, Smith and Smith—had assembled their best team of attorneys for this case, and the named partner was still speaking. Rick Anderson was halfway through issuing a summary of how he would prove that their client, a large pharmaceutical company, had done nothing wrong by raising the price of a life-saving medication by five thousand percent two years prior.
Jessica’s first court case was a class action lawsuit initiated by loved ones of people who had died because they couldn’t afford their medication once the price had been raised, and the pharmaceutical was the only maker of the particular drug. It was accused of unfairly monopolizing the market and knowingly impacting the ill, particularly children born with HIV, as the drug fought a parasite that attacked patients with compromised immune systems. Anytime sick children were involved in a case, it became precedent-worthy, so the partners had asked Jess to be present each day, just in case they needed last-minute citations to help with the defense.
Days like these Jess wondered if she was on the right career path after all. It was one thing to be a research attorney, spending her days sifting through old judgments and helping her firm win cases without getting directly involved, but it was quite another to be on the front lines helping defend a client she thought had behaved badly. When she was fresh out of law school, all she thought of was getting a good job with a big paycheck so she could pay off student loans and buy a house.
She was making headway on the loans. She had a house. Now what?
She didn’t know.
Though she had an ethical objection to helping defend the client, she had a professional obligation to do exactly that. She had no choice in the matter; it was one of the downsides to being a lawyer. When she was younger—before law school—she dreamed of following in the footsteps of Atticus Finch—what lawyer didn’t? She dreamed of making a difference for those who couldn’t help themselves, of busting through the glass ceiling for women attorneys, of being a trial lawyer who people sought for her cunning observances and ability to crack witnesses under pressure. She wasn’t jaded then. She didn’t have a concept of billable hours or retainers or the fact that the client isn’t always innocent.
Looking up old rulings in class action suits wasn’t exactly her Atticus Finch moment, but then again, he was completely fictional. Perhaps being a lawyer was exactly this—sitting in a too-bright room with barely any spectators, oak veneer peeling from tables, floor dingy from being mopped with dirty water night after night.
In that moment, pen cap nearly chewed through, Jessica realized spending time with Lana was changing her viewpoints. The old Jess could’ve just gone along with it, done what she needed to do and looked the other way. Put on her tailored skirt suit and marched into court with perfect hair and a fake smile, and driven her SUV to her house in the ‘burbs at the end of the day without thinking twice. The new Jess was struggling, especially since children were involved in this case. She’d already seen so much of what Lana did to help kids in CPS, and she was doing something almost entirely opposite. She was helping defend a company that had prevented children from receiving life-saving medication. Her heart said, “Don’t help with this,” but her mind told her, “You have to.” It was cognitive dissonance if there ever was.
She was halfheartedly listening as Rick finished his opening statements, and her ears perked up when she heard him say, “Thank you.” It’d only be about fifteen minutes until lunch and then she could go talk to Cassie, a talk she desperately needed. They hadn’t spoken much since their last coffee date, and that had been before the New Year. There was so much to share, she only wished they had more than an hour.
# # #
“So . . .” Cassie started, as she pulled out a chair in the sandwich shop across from the courthouse, “. . . how’s court? What you expected?”
Jessica smiled, using both hands to tuck stray hairs behind her ears. She needed to remember to put her hair up for court; wild red hair in her face wasn’t the look she was going for. “It’s . . . different. Too soon to know, I guess. I’m a little torn on this case in general.”
“Why’s that?” Cassie took the bait, even though she knew what was coming. She knew very little about the case, except that it was a pharmaceutical class action. There was no way Jessica could be excited about it.
“Oh, Cass, it’s just . . . I can’t really talk about it, of course you know that, but I have concerns about helping in this case. Nothing I can do now, but it has me rethinking my whole career.” Jess looked up and smiled at the young server who placed a tray with a turkey sandwich on it in front of her. “Thanks,” she acknowledged before continuing. “I guess I’m back where I was a few months ago, wondering if the firm is the best place for me, if what I’m doing actually matters.”
“I remember us having this conversation before. Do you think you’ve changed? I mean, do you think research just isn’t enough anymore?”
“I have, yeah. In a lot of ways,” Jessica offered, taking a small bite of her sandwich and thinking. How much should she tell Cassie about Lana?
“It happens, you know? It’s happening to me, too.”
“It is?”
“Yep. I could’ve never predicted this in a million years, but that month off of work with the broken leg gave me some perspective I didn’t have before. These last three weeks back at work have been a struggle.”
“They have?” Jess was surprised. Cassie loved her job. It didn’t pay even half what a law firm job paid, but she helped people. All jobs had annoying aspects, but Cassie seemed to get enough joy out of doing what she did that the less than desirable parts were tolerable.
“Isn’t is strange? New year, new perspective. I’m thinking about leaving the state.”
“Wow. That’s . . . that’s incredible. What happened?”
“Life happened. I started this victim’s advocacy blog when I was recovering, and it’s doing really well. Like, really well. I’ve started thinking I can take it somewhere—that I can make a difference for people who don’t have the resources I have. To have . . .”
“. . . your Atticus Finch moment.” Jess finished the sentence. They’d talked about this so often over the years, how they wanted to make a difference and stand up for people who couldn’t stand up for themselves. It only made sense that they both counted To Kill a Mockingbird as one of their most influential books.
“Exactly. I got caught up in the grind of my job—it was my job, after all—and that bit of downtime let my mind go other places, see other opportunities.”
“What about your pension?”
“I’m twenty years from a pension; it hadn’t crossed my mind. Who stays in a job twenty-five or thirty years anymore? I hope I’m retired by the time I’m fifty. That’s my goal anyway. Just hanging out with Rach and the animals, and enjoying our land and life together.”
“You’re planning your life with her twenty years from now?”
“Oh, God,” Cassie said, a slight flush filling her cheeks as she realized she still hadn’t told Jessica the news about her engagement to Rachel. “I can’t believe I haven’t told you this yet. I’m so sorry.”
“You got engaged, didn’t you?!”
“On Christmas.”
“Crap, Cass, when were you going to tell me? That was almost a month ago!”
Cassie’s napkin was balled in her hands at this point, the brown recycled paper flaking off into little shards, the din of patrons coming in and out of the sandwich shop providing significant background noise. She leaned in slightly to be heard and apologized again. “I’m so sorry. I
meant to tell you when we had coffee—that day you had your first date with Lana, which I want to hear about by the way—and we haven’t seen each other since then. I didn’t want to tell you over email, and then I sort of forgot I hadn’t told you. We’ve been busy with work and looking for houses, I just . . . I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize! I’m just sad you’ve been engaged a month and I didn’t know! Congratulations, that’s . . . I’m happy for you.” Jessica was happy for her friend. She was too busy being infatuated with Lana Parker to be hung up on their awkward non-kiss. It was ancient history at this point.
“Thanks,” Cassie said, dropping the balled up napkin into a wicker basket, shredded lettuce remnants on the wax paper lining it the only sign of the sandwich that had once been there. “So . . . tell me about Lana. How was your date? Have you seen her again? Are you a full-fledged lesbian yet?”
Just like that, Cassie had turned the tables. It was so typical in her friendships. As soon as the topic turned to her, she let out the bare minimum information and flipped the subject back to her friend. She didn’t do that with Rachel; they had such an easy rapport, such an equal relationship. But when it came to one Jessica Taylor, she was hardwired to turn the conversation to her friend’s life.
“I don’t think there’s enough time to tell you everything,” Jess mused, a far-off look in her eyes. The mere thought of Lana sent her mind someplace else, and while she recognized the blonde sitting across from her was expecting more info, the words were slow to come.
“That’s all I get? You had a date with a woman, and I’m presuming more than just the one, and that’s all I get? Come on, give an old married girl more than that!”
“You’re not married yet.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want details. Come on, spill it.”
“Okay, I have to be back in court in twenty minutes. Hey, that reminds me, why are you here today?”
“Oh, I had to drop off some paperwork with a judge, and I wanted to come see your first case, just to say hi, give you some moral support.”
“Ah, well thanks. That means a lot. I’m glad we could talk, too,” Jess offered, a smile spreading across her face, a twinkle emerging in her eye. “So, Lana is . . . amazing. Actually, I think you know her. She knows you, anyway.”
“I do? I kinda wondered that, if she’s the same Lana I know in CPS. I keep forgetting to ask you. Is that her?”
“Yep, it is, and we’ve been spending way too much time together. I’m . . . I’m crazy about her.”
“You have? You are? That’s great! I mean . . . the way you said that—it’s great, right?”
“It is so . . . great. She’s so smart and compassionate, and genuine, and . . .” Jessica stopped to compose her thoughts. She’d been such an idiot the last time they’d talked about sex. She’d been so confused, she really couldn’t fathom how two women together could be anything like being with a man, but now she knew it wasn’t like being with a man; it was better, just like Cassie had said. She leaned in closer still and lowered her voice an octave for the last part of her thought, “. . . she is a phenomenal lover. Like, mind-blowingly good.”
“So you’ve come to the dark side, huh?” Cassie grinned. She knew this feeling. The new relationship, the everything is wonderful, can’t keep your hands off each other phase. She’d gone through exactly that with Rachel, once she got her mind straight. Once she’d realized something real was building with them and stopped her unnatural obsession with her best friend—her very straight best friend—who was now sitting in front of her explaining how amazing it was to have sex with a woman. The world worked in mysterious ways.
“Why do people keep asking me that?”
“Asking you what?”
“If I’ve come to the dark side?
“You gave up men for the love of a woman. You went to the dark side—the no-turning-back side. Think about it. Of course the sex is amazing—she knows what to do. Chemistry, well, that you can’t fake—and it sounds like you have it. But, mechanics, she has the same parts, she knows what’s going to work. I was trying to convey this to you before, but it’s just one of those things you have to experience to understand. Men just don’t get it—most don’t, anyway.”
“Oh, I understand now. The past month I’ve had the best sex of my life—it’s hard to understand, but I’m leaning in. Literally. I can’t stop leaning into this woman. I can’t keep my mind off her, my hands off her. It’s like I’m fourteen years old or something.”
“It sounds like,” Cassie interjected, “you’re in love.”
“You think?” Jess smiled. She just couldn’t stop smiling these days.
“Look at you! We’ve been here forty-five minutes, talking about work, and job changes, and general dissatisfaction with current careers, and you can’t wipe that silly grin off your face. I had a hunch something was up with Lana, but girl, I hate to tell you—you’ve got the love bug.”
“I do, don’t I?”
“You do, it’s so clear. Have you not had this talk yet? The L word?”
“No, not really.”
“What’s not really?” Cassie pressed. “How do you sort of have this conversation?”
“Well, I may have mentioned it in a heated moment, but I think she dismissed it as sex talk.”
“That’s understandable, and that’s definitely not having the talk!”
“How did you tell Rachel?” Jessica was leaning back in her chair now, legs crossed at the knee, space emerging between her and the table. The back-to-work clock was ticking, but she had a few more minutes to spare.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the voice muttered as a man in a business suit bumped into her foot. Jess didn’t even look up as she dismissed his blunder as perfectly okay, no harm.
“Ha, well,” Cassie started, unfazed by the businessman bump-in, “it wasn’t much better than your bedroom admission. We were in the car and I had asked her to go to Houston with me for Thanksgiving. I said something about how my family would love her because I did. It was totally not smooth. I didn’t actually mean to tell her when I did, but it worked out.”
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were getting married! I have to run back to court now, but I want to hear about the proposal, your plans, this house shopping you’re doing. Can we have dinner? Friday night?”
“Of course. That would be great. Alejandro’s? They must wonder what’s become of us. We haven’t been in ages.”
“It’s a date,” Jessica agreed, and added, “Hey . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“Thanks for what? I haven’t done anything.”
“Yeah, you have. You’ve helped me without knowing it. You’ve been a safe place for me to talk about some pretty significant changes in my life. You’ve encouraged me to follow my heart on a path I never expected. So, thanks. I know we haven’t been spending as much time together as we used to, but it means a lot to me to know you’re there, if I need you.”
“Of course,” Cassie said as they stood, leaning in to take her friend in a close hug. “I still love you, you know. I always will. You’re my best friend. I just want you to be happy, no matter how you get there.”
“I know, me too. I want you to be happy, too. Thanks for coming to court today. I’ll see you Friday,” Jess paused and smiled for the final bit of her thought, “Hey, congratulations. You and Rachel, that’s great!”
With that, Jessica was gone, a blur of red hair in a fitted black suit, out the door and onto the busy sidewalk, headed back to court with that perma-grin plastered to her face. She was definitely in love. Now, what to do about it?
NINE
Lana Parker loved the wind in her face, the feel of the road, the oneness with machine that came from riding her Harley. Day in, day out, rain, shine, daylight or darkness, she rode. She hadn’t owned a car in years; didn’t need to. Austin was a bikeable city, and there were days when she could get where she was going faster on a
motorcycle than a car anyway, the city’s streets and highways becoming more congested by the day. Her bike could go places a car never could.
As she rode to band practice that night, guitar in a hard case slung over her torso, it hit her. She was in love for perhaps the first time in her life. She’d met someone by accident—in a gay bar of all places, how cliché—and it turned out that the particular someone was amazing. Jessica was smart and funny in an academic lawyerly sort of way. They talked for hours without a break in the conversation and had so many similar interests. She’d found her one in six billion right in the middle of her hometown.
Huh, she thought, easing off the clutch with her left hand to shift to a higher gear as her speed increased. This is new. It only took me thirty-five years to understand what love is. The irony.
Ironic, of course, because Lana and The Crickets had been playing love song after love song in bars for a decade. Until now, the lyrics were just words on a page. Until now, the words on the page had no meaning; no real meaning anyway. Now, every word of every love song ever written seemed to make sense. Now, she wanted to sing them all to Jessica; wanted to see the look of adoration in those green eyes as a result.
As she pulled into Jon’s driveway and dropped the kickstand on her bike, she knew what she wanted to do. The first time she sang for Jessica, it’d been to get her in bed, she had no real motives aside from that very simplistic, very carnal one. She’d serenaded Jessica with a growly rendition of “I Can’t Make You Love Me.” She’d done her very best Bonnie Raitt, and it worked.
Now though, her feelings had changed. She wanted to sing Jessica a song that meant something; that showed her she could be loved—she was loved.
“Hey,” Lana acknowledged, dipping her head in a simple greeting as she stepped in through the garage’s side door, full face helmet dangling loosely in one hand, guitar still slung across her body. The band were all there already, save for Jeanine who couldn’t make it that night due to a piano lesson she was giving. Jeanine was the only member of the band that made her living playing music all day in addition to gigging. “Cover request . . .”
