“I’m sorry,” he said.
She nodded.
“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said . . . most of what I just said. But . . .” She shook her head. “I’m just going to tell that reporter my standard ‘no comment,’ just FYI.”
He had to call Olivia right away. Before a reporter did. Or . . . oh shit, had a reporter already called her?
He picked up the phone.
She answered right away.
“Hey, I was just about to call you—I got a weird message from some reporter, and it’s been a few weeks since that happened, do you know what this is about?”
Shit, she sounded so relaxed and cheerful. How was he going to tell her this?
“Yeah, I know. Olivia . . .”
He should have told Kara. It didn’t have to be a big thing, he knew he could trust Kara not to tell anyone. He should have done everything in his power to protect Olivia.
“What is it? What happened?” He could hear the change in her voice.
He just had to let it out.
“There’s going to be a story coming out soon—Kara just got a call about it—about your arrest as a teenager. We’re saying ‘No comment’, and you should do that, too, or just don’t say anything at all, but Olivia, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry” seemed like such an inadequate word.
“I see. Okay. That’s . . .” She was quiet for a moment. “Okay. I thought the worst was over, that’s all. And this timing couldn’t be worse, our big pitch to Clementine is tomorrow.” She sighed. “Damn it. I wish you were here.”
She sounded so stunned. He’d never heard her like this before.
“I wish I was there, too. This is all my fault. I hate that you’re going to have to deal with this because of me.”
He really should have thought of this. Why did he have to do it all so fast? This was what he had staff for, damn it.
“It’s not your fault,” she said. “I should have assumed someone would be nosy and dig this up. I guess I just wasn’t thinking.”
Fuck, he had to tell her this part, too.
“I have to apologize: I never told my staff about this, and I should have. They would have prepped you—us—for all of this.”
There was a long silence on the phone. So long he wasn’t sure if she was still there.
“Olivia?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” she said. “I’m just . . . kind of stunned. You didn’t tell them? I thought you talked to your staff before the Hollywood Bowl? Didn’t you think they should know this? My God, I would have told Kara if I knew you hadn’t!”
He had nothing to say. Well, nothing good to say, anyway.
“I hoped no one would have to know. I didn’t want you to have to deal with all of this. I did talk to my staff—well, Kara—but . . . obviously not enough.”
She laughed, but there was no amusement there.
“Yeah, obviously. Okay, well, I guess I’ll just see what this story is, and figure out how to deal with it.”
He hated that it was only Tuesday. He wouldn’t get to see her until Friday night. She was so mad at him, and there was nothing he could do, and he felt like if he was there and they could talk about it and maybe she could yell at him some, they could resolve this a lot faster.
“Can Kara call you? She’s as mad at me as you are, but she’ll be able to give you good advice on how to deal with everything.”
Olivia sighed.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Have her call me.”
He noticed she didn’t deny she was mad at him. She was right to be mad at him. He knew that. He just wished she wasn’t.
“Okay, I should probably call my family now,” she said. “Just so they know this is out there. And so my dad doesn’t yell at a reporter if they call him.”
Oh God, her family. He hadn’t even met her parents yet, and they were going to hate him.
“I love you. Talk to you tonight?”
There was silence for a moment.
“I love you, too, but maybe not tonight. I’m going to try to relax and get to bed early so I’m in good shape for the pitch.”
He wished there was something he could do about that defeated tone in her voice.
“Okay, tomorrow, then. And I hope you kick ass on the pitch.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“I love you,” he said again. But she’d already hung up.
* * *
* * *
Wednesday morning, Ellie picked Olivia up on the way to their pitch at Clementine.
“It’s not too late to cancel, you know,” Ellie said when Olivia got in the car.
“You know as well as I do that if we postpone this pitch, it would be the same thing as canceling it,” Olivia said to Ellie.
If only the pitch had been scheduled for next week. By then, hopefully everything would have died down some—that’s what Kara had told her, anyway, and she trusted Kara not to bullshit her. But apparently the universe had conspired against her.
She’d seen only a few of the stories about her arrest, and they all seemed predictably titillated by a teenager who broke into her high school twenty years ago. She’d anticipated that—people had always reacted that way, and she’d seen what the media did to other Black women, after all—but she hadn’t realized just how much it would all hurt her. And she hadn’t prepared herself—enough, anyway—for the stories referring to her high school “in the ghetto,” or the one suggesting she’d manipulated Max into a relationship with her. And all of this just because she happened to be a Black woman who fell in love with a famous, attractive white man.
She was mad at Max for not telling Kara about her arrest, but she was just as angry at herself. She should have done her best to control this whole situation, instead of trusting other people to do it well. What had that ever gotten her? How had she let Max convince her to go public in such a rush? That was so unlike her. She should have taken a lot more time about that decision. And she should have insisted that she talk to Kara first. If they hadn’t rushed to go public, if they’d talked to Kara and made sure she knew about the arrest, maybe they wouldn’t have gone public at all. And then she wouldn’t be dealing with any of this. Especially not on one of the biggest days in Monroe & Spencer’s short life.
“We could postpone the pitch, cancel it, whatever—either one would be fine,” Ellie said. “I’m worried about you.”
Olivia shrugged that off.
“I’m fine. And I’m not going to let our firm suffer because of me.” She sighed. “Though it has, already. I got a fucking message from fucking Jeremy Wright this morning—that asshole I hated at my old firm. He said he’d seen the news, and he hoped everything was going well with me. That was his way of telling me that everyone at my old firm knows about this, and they’re laughing at me.” She never wanted those people to know a damn thing about her, and now they knew far too much.
Ellie shook her head, then abruptly pulled into a grocery store parking lot. Once they were parked, she turned to Olivia.
“Who cares about any of those assholes? Who cares about this fucking pitch? I sure as hell don’t right now. What I care about is my friend! Liv, one of the reasons we both left Big Law in the first place was because we wanted to be treated like human beings, and not just cogs in a wheel, remember? Did you blink when I barely worked for a week in the spring when Sophia was so sick? No, of course you didn’t.”
Olivia shook her head.
“That was different, you had to be with her.”
Ellie grabbed her hand.
“It wasn’t different, though, that’s what I mean. We both have to be able to take breaks, and take care of what matters in our lives, before we fall apart.”
Olivia squeezed Ellie’s hand.
“Thank you.” She closed her eyes for a second. “I love you a lot, you kn
ow that?” she asked.
Ellie smiled.
“I love you a lot, too.”
Olivia let go of her hand.
“And I promise I can handle this pitch today. It’ll be good to get the first time I have to deal with strangers about all of this over with, if that makes sense.”
“That does make sense,” Ellie said. “But remember, whatever these people say doesn’t matter.”
Olivia wasn’t sure if she believed that, but damn if it wasn’t helpful to think it.
She grinned at her friend.
“Let’s do this.”
Ellie grinned back and started the car.
They walked into Clementine shoulder to shoulder.
“Gentlemen, I’m sure you’re busy, so we should get right to it,” Ellie said once everyone sat down. She started up their PowerPoint, and Olivia smiled at the men at the other side of the conference table.
“Thank you for meeting with us today. We’ve learned a lot about Clementine and what your needs are for this case, so now it’s time to tell you about Monroe and Spencer, and why we are the best choice for your business.”
Once they launched into their well-practiced routine, Olivia felt good, even great. This, she could do. Maybe she couldn’t deal with the press who kept calling her office, or the photographers outside her office building—who, luckily, couldn’t get into the garage, so hadn’t gotten a picture of her yet—but she knew how to do this. All three of the men at the other side of the table seemed like they were listening to what Olivia and Ellie were saying. When they occasionally jumped in to ask questions, they were thoughtful ones, and the men made eye contact with both of them, instead of just with one another.
Olivia flipped to a blank sheet of paper and nodded to them when Ellie finished up.
“Do you have any more questions for us?”
They got questions about how new their firm was, how small it was, and their knowledge of the technology of the case, all of which they’d prepared for. The line of questioning worried her some, though—they seemed to want a bigger, more experienced firm, which made Olivia wonder why they’d even had Monroe & Spencer pitch in the first place. At least Olivia knew if they didn’t get this client, it had nothing to do with how hard they’d worked.
Despite her frustrations, Olivia gave them her best politician-style smile. She knew it was her best; she’d been practicing it for weeks now.
“Any other questions or concerns? As we said earlier, we’d be happy to pass on the contact information of some of our other clients if you want to consult them.”
The three of them looked at one another, and then the one in the middle—Brad, the one in charge—shook his head.
“No need for that.” Her heart fell. Damn it. This one had been a long shot, but they’d worked so hard on it, and she’d been so sure it had gone well. “Bruce Erickson is a friend of mine and he speaks very highly of you, so I don’t need to talk to anyone else. And I was impressed by how you’ve handled all of that nonsense in the press in the past few days—I thought you might cancel our meeting today, but on the contrary, you didn’t let any of that distract you. Says a lot for what you’d be like as our lawyer. Anyway, we like you. You’re hired.”
The three guys across the table all grinned at her and Ellie. Olivia was too stunned to grin back. Had that really just happened? She took a sip of water to help compose herself.
“Thank you, all,” Ellie said. Thank God for Ellie. “We look forward to working together.”
Olivia turned to look at Ellie, and their eyes danced at each other. They’d done it. They’d motherfucking done it.
“Plus, I have a little more faith in any lawyer who has had some personal dealings with the law. Who among us didn’t get into a little trouble in high school anyway? For some of us, it didn’t end in high school, right, guys?” He and the other two chuckled and elbowed one another, as Olivia tried not to let the astonishment show on her face.
Had he really just. . . . You know what, nope, she was just going to ignore that.
She joined in the smiles and handshakes and jokes as the five of them stood up and she and Ellie got ready to leave.
“Oh, and another thing,” Brad said to her by the conference room door. “Tell that boyfriend of yours I like him a lot, but that he should lighten up on all of the talk about taxes, will you? We have high enough taxes, living in California, I’m sure you agree!” He would have patted her on the shoulder, but Olivia stepped backward, so his hand just swatted through the air.
“You should give his office a call and let him know your thoughts. The number is on his website,” Olivia said. Her face was devoid of the politician smile or, indeed, any smile at all.
Had this man really just given her a message to pass along to her boyfriend, the senator? And then tried to pat her on the shoulder? Was that why he’d hired her? Not for her experience, or her accomplishments, or her preparation, but because he thought he would have a direct line to a senator with her as his lawyer?
“Gentlemen, we should be clear,” Ellie said. “If you’re hiring Monroe and Spencer, you’re hiring the two of us. And that’s all. I hope no one has a problem with that?”
All three men shook their heads.
“I was at that Dolly Parton concert at the Hollywood Bowl, too, wasn’t it great?” one of the men behind Brad blurted out.
Olivia tried to remember how to smile.
“Indeed. It was my first time at the Hollywood Bowl, actually.”
All of the men exclaimed at this, and spent a few minutes relating their favorite trips to the Hollywood Bowl as they ushered Olivia and Ellie out of the conference room and waved good-bye.
Ellie smiled brightly at Olivia as they walked out of the building and toward her car.
“We’ll talk about it when we get into the car,” Ellie said between her gleaming white teeth. “You never know who is listening around these tech companies.”
They got in the car, and Ellie gunned the motor.
“We’re getting the hell out of this parking lot before we talk about anything,” she said. They drove a mile down the road without speaking, a Beyoncé song from Olivia’s power playlist the only thing breaking the silence in the car. Ellie pulled into a fast-food parking lot and threw the car into park. Olivia started talking before the car was off.
“Ellie, what the HELL just happened back there?” She stopped herself. “I’m sorry, I’m not yelling at you, I’m yelling with you, you know that, right? I just have to yell right now.”
Ellie slipped out of her blazer and folded it on her lap.
“Yell as much as you want. Yell for the rest of the day, at minimum, as far as I’m concerned. I can’t believe he did that.”
Olivia shook her fists in the air.
“I can’t believe he did that! ‘Tell your boyfriend’—what the fuck? In what world is that ever appropriate? But it’s especially inappropriate when my boyfriend is a fucking senator! I let that comment about getting in trouble with the law go, even though it annoyed me; I’m sure his experiences getting into trouble as a privileged white dude were a lot different than mine. But ‘Tell your boyfriend’ was my limit, Ellie!”
Ellie pulled out her phone.
“Say the word and I’ll email that asshole and tell him we don’t want his business.”
Olivia pulled her blazer off and tossed it into the back seat.
“Let me think about that. I can’t decide which one would be better: a cold refusal to do business with them or charging them a great deal of money for our work.”
Ellie grinned.
“Either one would be satisfying, but you’re the one to make this call.”
Olivia put her hand on Ellie’s arm.
“Thanks. I really appreciate that. And I’m sorry, again, that all of this drama has had an impact on our firm. That’s th
e last thing I ever wanted.”
Ellie patted her on the cheek.
“You don’t have to apologize for that, either. We’re in this together, remember?”
Olivia smiled at her.
“I remember.” Ellie started the car and rounded the parking lot to pull into the drive-through. “Two large fries, one regular Coke, one diet,” she said into the speaker.
Ellie took the cash Olivia handed her and pulled forward.
“And, Olivia Grace, you hear me, you’re not going back to the office, you’re going straight home. I can tell you didn’t get a wink of sleep last night, and I need you to rest. I’d take your phone away from you for the night if I didn’t think you’d kill me for it.”
Olivia took the bag of food from Ellie and pulled out a fry.
“I know when I get Olivia Grace’d I’d better do what you say.”
Olivia fell asleep about five minutes after she walked into her house. She woke up in a panic to the sound of a door opening and closing. Had someone just broken into her house?
Before she could react, Max appeared at the door of her bedroom, suit on, briefcase over his shoulder, hair in full Senator Shellac.
“Max?” She sat bolt upright. What was he doing here? It was still Wednesday, wasn’t it? She hadn’t somehow slept for two days straight?
He smiled and dropped his briefcase on the floor.
“There you are. I didn’t expect you to be home this early, but then I saw your car outside.”
She rubbed her eyes.
“I . . . what are you doing here? Aren’t you in DC? I mean . . . you know what I mean.”
He sat at the foot of her bed.
“I fly back tonight on a red-eye. I had to see you. These past few days, those stories . . . I’m so sorry, Olivia. I didn’t realize how bad this would be. I couldn’t wait until Friday. I hope you meant it when you said you wished I was here.”
She stared at him. Was this a dream? Had he really flown across the country just to see her for a few hours, because of an idle wish on her part? Her lingering anger at Max faded away.
“I’m so glad you came.” She blinked away the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “It’s really good to see you.”
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