Rannigan's Redemption: Complete Collection

by Pandora Spocks

  Casey had always envied her 36DDs, unhappy with her own 34As. Maggie had never really thought about it, but looking at them in the mirror she watched herself languidly caress them, taking care to pay attention to her pebble-hard dark pink nipples and she liked what she saw. She felt a stirring and paused to remove her panties, kicking them aside. At the apex of her thighs was a neatly trimmed patch of red hair. Usually she waxed it all away but in the six months she’d been single, she had gotten out of the habit. With her right hand she continued caressing her breasts but she moved her left hand down to touch a needier space, all the while watching herself in the mirror.

  Maggie glanced at the time. She could go ahead and shower, but first there was a little unfinished business. Reaching into the drawer of her bedside table, she took out her current boyfriend, the one who was always there for her as long as she had AA batteries. In her mind, though, it was him.

  The days between Interview Tuesday and Monday, her first day with the firm, had flown past in a whirlwind of activity and events, culminating with graduation on Sunday. The ceremony itself was at 10:00 in the morning, the better to get finished and allow for everyone to be on their way.

  Maggie had dreaded the commencement itself, though, knowing that she had no family to come and cheer her achievement. Since the early days of law school, Casey’s parents had ‘adopted’ her and had always included her when they came to visit, inviting her to their home for holidays and vacations. But Maggie still felt as though she were intruding on family time. Arriving in town on Saturday afternoon, the Allens had taken Casey and Maggie out for dinner that evening, showering both girls with gifts. They had invited Maggie back to their hotel after dinner, but she’d begged off, eager to leave the family to themselves.

  At the graduation ceremony, Maggie had been surprised to receive a large bouquet of spring flowers. Her heart had pounded as she’d read the card. Congratulations on your graduation. Murphy, Rannigan, & Metheney. She’d felt a sting of disappointment, having hoped they’d been from Michael. Now, she glanced at the table where she’d placed them in a vase, grateful for the passing of time.

  Maggie entered the firm’s lobby at precisely 9:00 dressed in a charcoal grey pencil skirt and white camisole topped with a thin pink ruffled cardigan. There were six others waiting, presumably newbies like herself. As she approached the reception desk, the woman looked up and smiled. “Good morning, Ms. Flynn. If you’ll just wait here with the others, Ms. Jordan from HR will join you shortly.

  Maggie thanked her and found a seat next to a tall handsome black guy with close-cropped hair wearing a grey suit, white shirt, and pink tie. She introduced herself. “Hi! Maggie Flynn,” she said reaching to shake his hand. “We’re twins today,” she remarked, laughing.

  He grinned back at her, shaking her hand. “Nate Washington,” he responded. “Yeah, we look like we could anchor the local television news.”

  “Are you from New York?” she asked.

  Nate shook his head. “Nope, this is my first time in the city. I graduated from Tulane last week,” he answered.

  “Wow, Tulane? I graduated yesterday from NYU. Did they come down there for a job fair?” she wondered.

  “Yes, I interviewed with a lot of firms, had a few offers, but I decided I wanted to try living in New York,” he confided.

  She smiled at him. “You’re going to love the city.”

  A tall black woman impeccably dressed in a black skirt suit with a purple silk blouse entered the room. “Good morning, everyone. I’m Pat Jordan, assistant director of Human Resources. We have a few housekeeping details to take care of, then we’ll take you on a tour of the firm and outline your job descriptions. Follow me, please.”

  Maggie, Nate, and the others followed Ms. Jordan down a hallway to a large meeting room where contracts were presented, explained, and signed. They next went downstairs to the building’s security office where photo badges were made. “With your security badge, you can come and go twenty-four hours a day,” Ms. Jordan explained, “something you may want to do in order to keep up with your assignments and projects.” Nate and Maggie grimaced at each other.

  Back on the 45th floor, Ms. Jordan began the tour of the offices beginning with their work stations and explained that the group would be a sort of a pool, performing tasks assigned by the various partners and associates of the firm. Maggie glanced around at the cubicles, each of which had a name on the outside. She saw one for Nate Washington.

  “Where’s yours?” Nate whispered.

  Maggie shrugged and raised her hand. “Excuse me, I’m sorry, I don’t see my name,” she said.

  “Ah, Ms. Flynn,” Pat Jordan began, “you have been assigned directly to Mr. Rannigan, per his request. You’ll be located on the 50th floor. As a matter of fact, now that we have all the preliminary business squared away you’re free to head upstairs. The rest of this really won’t apply to you, as I’m sure Mr. Rannigan and his staff will have their own orientation.”

  Maggie blinked in surprise. “Um, okay, thank you very much,” she said, feeling her face flush pink. “I’ll just be going then.”

  Ms. Jordan went ahead with her discourse. Maggie stopped by Nate. “Hey, Tulane, text me,” she whispered, quickly giving her number. Her phone blipped in the elevator.

  What the???? he texted.

  I have no idea! Drinks tonight. Let’s debrief, she returned.

  The doors slid open on the 50th floor and Maggie stepped out tentatively. This floor was different from the others she’d visited. The floor in the reception area was white marble and the desk looked Scandinavian, all pale wood with clean lines.

  The pretty blonde woman behind the desk glanced up from her computer and smiled. “Hello! You must be Maggie. I’m Karen Stewart, Michael’s assistant. We spoke on the phone last week.”

  Maggie recalled the first call she made, the one to set up the interview with the Murphy, Rannigan partners. “Yes, hello, it’s nice to meet you,” she managed, feeling completely out of her league. Karen came around the desk to shake her hand. Up close, Maggie realized that Karen was older than she’d first thought, mid-forties, maybe, judging by the crinkles that framed her blue eyes when she smiled.

  “Welcome to Murphy, Rannigan,” she said. “Michael had planned to meet you himself but he’s with a client. Let me just show you your desk and you can get settled in and wait for him there.”

  Karen led her down a hallway paneled with light wood interrupted now and then by frosted glass doors with names painted in silver script. She stopped at the end of the hallway in front of one of the doors. “Here we are,” she said opening it. “It’s small, but it’s all yours.”

  Astounded, Maggie walked in. It was a very small space. A small desk of the same light wood as the reception desk was against the wall to the left and directly across from it was a matching credenza on the right. There was space for a small leather desk chair between them. The back wall was a floor to ceiling window overlooking Central Park.

  “The man is coming this afternoon to put your name on the door,” Karen was saying. “We’d hoped it would be finished before you got here, but he’s running behind.” She smiled kindly at Maggie. “Now, can I get you anything, water, coffee?”

  Flummoxed, Maggie managed to shake her head. “No, thank you, everything is just perfect,” she responded.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to settle in,” Karen said. “Michael should be along shortly.” With that, Karen left, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Maggie stood for moment trying to catch her breath. She walked to the window to look out across the park. Unbelievable, she thought. I have my own fucking office?! She turned to look at the desk, noticing for the first time that centered there was a thin gift box wrapped in white paper and a silver bow. A small card was affixed to the top, her name scrawled on the envelope. She opened the envelope and removed the monogrammed note card. SMR, she read. The same scrawl crossed the inside of the card. Welcome, Maggie, to Murphy, Rannigan,
& Metheny. Sorry I missed your graduation. Think of this as a Welcome/Happy Graduation/late birthday gift. Hope you like it. Michael

  Maggie’s heart pounded. In slow motion, she carefully removed the wrapping paper and took off the lid. Smiling, she lifted the gift from the box. It was a new folio in buttery soft tan leather with silver accents of thin filigree on the corners and centered in thin feminine script were her initials: MMF.

  Chapter 8

  Michael sat behind his huge desk listening as the councilman droned on and on, expressing his gratitude for Michael’s help. “He’s just a dumb kid. I don’t understand why they wanted to make a federal case out of it,” the man said, referring to his seventeen-year old son who’d been arrested in the wee hours of Sunday morning on suspicion of driving under the influence. Complicating matters was the fact that when they emptied his pockets, the cops found a small amount of weed. Councilman Menzel had called Michael right away. He’d helped the politician out of a few scrapes of his own over the years.

  It was only 10:15 in the morning but it had already been a long day. Michael had cut short his weekend in the Caymans by a few hours to fly home and help get the kid out of jail. The harder part was keeping it out of the papers, but he had the contacts to make that happen. He tried to look sympathetic. “Aw, you know, Bob, the police are just doing their job.” What he really thought was that the kid was a stupid little shit who was probably going to kill somebody one day, but Michael wasn’t paid the big bucks for his honest opinion.

  He glanced at his watch. Maggie was undoubtedly here on the 50th floor by now. The plan had been for him to meet with her as soon as she’d finished all the HR bullshit, show her around, outline what she’d be doing. That was before he got tangled up with Councilman Douchebag’s asswipe spawn. Michael sighed impatiently.

  On his way into the office that morning he’d spotted Maggie, her red hair standing out in the group of new hires. He’d thought about her over the weekend. Something she’d said during the second interview had stayed with him. It was what they had in common. He also had no family; growing up he’d been raised by a single mother who’d been a functional alcoholic. She died when he was in high school, and he’d lived with a maiden aunt until he graduated, biding his time until he went to college and was out on his own. He didn’t regret his early life, but it had been a hard road. If he took the time to consider it, it probably went a long way toward explaining his life today. But he rarely did so. Therapy was for suckers.

  Maggie’s revelation had opened some old wounds, the kind of thing that tended to make him quiet and moody. His date for the weekend had been Delia, an actress he’d met recently at a theatre fundraiser. Michael had thought they’d had a nice enough time but on the flight home she accused him of being distant. This, he’d thought, is exactly why I don’t want a relationship.

  He realized he felt something akin to admiration for Maggie. Knowing there would be no graduation gifts, no proud family to watch her accept her degree, he’d arranged for flowers to be sent, at the last minute making the card out from the firm rather than from himself. Don’t want her to get the wrong idea, he’d reasoned.

  The councilman paused in his oration and Michael seized the opportunity. “Alright, Bob, I think we pretty much have it under control. I’m late for another meeting, so call my office next week and we’ll touch base on where we go from here. And for the time being, keep the kid on a tight leash. No more shenanigans.” He stood and moved toward the door and thankfully the Bob did the same.

  “Absolutely. Will do,” the man agreed, as he walked out of Michael’s office and toward the reception area and elevators. When the elevator doors closed, Michael turned toward Karen’s desk.

  “She’s waiting for you in her office,” Karen told him. “Very nice young lady.”

  “Yes, she seems to be, thanks Karen,” he replied, feeling vaguely irritated. There were times when he felt that Karen said things that made him feel like he was fourteen. Which was ridiculous. She was only ten years older than he. He shook his head as if to dismiss the annoyance and headed off down the hall.

  He knocked lightly on her door before opening it. Maggie was standing in front of the window with her arm extended, holding her phone in front of her. She looked immediately embarrassed.

  “Um, sorry about that,” she apologized. “Just sending a Snapchat. I’ll just...be done now.”

  She put the phone on the desk, gently touching the new leather folio. “By the way, this is...” she blushed, looking first at the gift then back at him, “just...beautiful. It was so thoughtful of you, and completely unnecessary. But I love it.”

  Michael smiled, amused. “I’m glad you like it. Welcome to the 50th floor.” He noticed for the first time the sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. They stood out more when she blushed. When she glanced up at him he realized that her eyes were deep green, a shade he didn’t think he’s seen before.

  She interrupted his musing. “So Ms. Jordan mentioned that you’d have an orientation for me. Shall I get with Karen and get up to speed on my job description?”

  Her question surprised him and he felt a bit off balance. “I thought I’d give you your orientation. Figured I’d give you a little tour then head to my office to go over your responsibilities.”

  “Oh, okay then,” she said. “I just thought... Well, I know you’re busy. That’s all I meant.” She blushed furiously again.

  “I’m not too busy to welcome a new member of the team,” he said, grinning good naturedly. “I just spent three hours getting a rich dipshit teenager out of the clink. I’m glad for a change of pace. Come on, let me give you the grand tour.” He held open the door for her. “Snapchat, you say. I’m not on that. Does that make me out of touch?”

  Chapter 9

  Michael stopped in the door and allowed her to precede him into the hallway. As she passed him she caught the scent of his cologne and recalling her dream from earlier that morning, she blushed furiously.

  Thank God he can’t read my mind, she thought, gripping the new folio tightly. Even so, when she turned he was regarding her curiously and she felt her face redden further. She smiled to cover her discomfort. “I can’t believe I have my own office. Downstairs the newbies have cubicles.”

  He grinned and nodded. “Yeah, up here on 50 we’re kind of our own beast.” He began walking down the hallway towards the reception area. “Jim Metheny used to be with Jernigan, Krandel back in the day but they had a parting of the ways about ten years ago. He was looking for partners to start his own firm. He found Brian Murphy first. I had just won a big case in the Public Defender’s Office.”

  “People vs. Smithson,” Maggie said. “He was accused of murder. An eyewitness IDd him as the perpetrator. The evidence showed that he was a hundred miles away at the time.” Michael looked at her in surprise. Maggie shrugged. “I studied the case for a criminal justice class.”

  He laughed lightly. “Anyway, together we formed this firm. Downstairs they deal with all sorts of cases. Here on 50 we have the most high-profile clients. When the beautiful people get into trouble, they call me.” He watched to see her reaction. “Obviously, confidentiality is a very high priority.”

  She nodded her head vigorously. “Of course. I understand.”

  As they moved down the hall, Michael pointed out the offices of the people she’d met at the first interview, Stan Hodges, Ellen Standifer, and John Hemphill. Maggie remembered how condescending they’d been. That will have to stop, she thought to herself. There were also the offices of several other associates. Michael stopped in front of a pair of frosted glass doors.

  “This,” he began, swinging open the doors, “is our library. It was donated by a very wealthy, very grateful client.”

  Maggie walked into the room full of bookshelves as far as she could see. She crossed over to touch some of the leather-bound volumes on the nearest one. “Holy...” she breathed. She turned to face Michael. “This is amazing.”

&nbs
p; “Well, I’m not sure how amazing you’ll think it is. Part of your job will be re-shelving the books. That job always falls to the newest member of the team. Dan Alvarez is very happy you’re here. Now he doesn’t have to do it.”

  “Shit rolls downhill, huh?” Maggie quipped.

  Michael snorted in surprise. “Sad, but true,” he laughed.

  She smiled at him. “I don’t mind. I get having to pay my dues. I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

  “Then you’ll probably do very well here,” he observed. “Let’s head to my office and discuss the details.”

  They passed Karen’s desk. She was busy on the phone. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rannigan is currently unavailable. I’ll have him return your call at his earliest convenience.”

  Just before his office, Michael pointed out the conference room. Maggie peeked inside. It looked like the one on the lower floor where she’d had her second interview. He held open his office door and closed it behind her. Maggie walked a few steps into the room and stopped to take it all in. The huge corner office was all glass on two walls, one overlooking the park as in her office and the other looking down Park Avenue. The large glass and steel desk backed into the corner was dwarfed by the size of the room. To the right of the desk was a small conference table and to the left was a seating area with two black leather couches and a couple of coordinating chairs.

  He watched her for a moment. “It’s not a bad view,” he minimized. “Can I get you something?” He crossed the room to a small refrigerator concealed in a glass and steel credenza behind the desk. Opening it, he offered her a bottled water. She accepted it, still speechless from the view. He motioned for her to sit in one of the black leather chairs opposite the desk and he sank into his own black leather executive chair.