Perfect Distraction

by Allison Ashley

  Their client, Isla, was a woman in her thirties whose husband had a history of assault. For several years the police had responded to incidents at their home, but Isla had never wanted to press charges. Four months ago, Isla’s husband had attacked her and their seven-year-old son, which was the first time their child had incurred injuries. That, combined with Isla’s broken arm and ruptured spleen, had prompted her to move forward with protective orders and to file a lawsuit.

  Each time Andrew worked on this case, he thought about his sisters and what he would do if he ever found out that a man had physically hurt them. Today, just like each time before, his blood boiled at the thought. People were meant to form partnerships and relationships based on mutual respect and love. Not out of a need to control or possess. He couldn’t understand the mind-set of people like Isla’s husband, and Andrew felt honored to be part of the team attempting to hold the man accountable for his actions.

  During the first few months of the investigation, Andrew had attended client and witness interviews, drafted a few pretrial motions, and filed necessary paperwork at the courthouse. Todd was ruthless and detail oriented, but also patient as he’d walked Andrew through each step of the case process. He could also be laid back and funny at times, and Andrew got along with him well. He reminded Andrew of his father a little, truth be told. The way he used to be before Andrew had left home.

  Andrew spent several hours that day drafting a response to a motion filed by the defense. The husband’s attorney was hoping to strike the testimony of a police officer who’d initially responded to the violent incident, and the prosecution needed that piece of evidence. Just as Andrew finished up, Todd approached the desk.

  “I like the new look.”

  Andrew cupped a hand over his bald head. This was one of the few places where it wasn’t appropriate to wear a hat. “Oh, yeah. Thanks. It was time…the patchy thinning spots weren’t doing it for me.”

  Todd nodded sagely. “I remember when Helen finally broke down and shaved her head. She cried for two days.”

  When Andrew had first told the staff about the lymphoma and treatment he’d been going through, Todd had pulled him aside. He revealed that his wife had gone through chemotherapy for breast cancer several years prior. He’d insisted Andrew tell him if he ever needed anything or needed time off. Andrew had thanked him but refused to approach the internship differently than any other third year law student. He was serious about making a good impression and networking as much as possible, in hopes there would be an open position by the time he graduated.

  “It’s not so bad. I’m just telling myself it comes with the territory.”

  Todd put a hand on his shoulder. “Keep up that positive attitude and you’ll do fine. Are you doing all right otherwise?”

  Andrew wasn’t going to be honest with the man he was trying to impress. He ignored his churning stomach and the desire to lay his head on the desk and take a nap. “I’m doing great. I can barely tell I’m getting chemo.” He smiled for added emphasis, swallowing the lie.

  Todd gave him a good-hearted thump on his upper back. “Glad to hear it. You’ve been an excellent addition to this case. You’re a quick learner, and you’ve done good work.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He wanted to ask if there was any chance for an open position for a new graduate come summer, but he hesitated. It was only November, and graduation was a long way off.

  A lot could change between now and then.

  …

  That evening Andrew trudged up the stairs to his apartment. When he moved into this complex he’d chosen a third-floor apartment, wanting a unit with a balcony. But since beginning chemo, he’d begun to loathe these stairs.

  The apartment wasn’t much but was perfect for him while in law school—kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. He’d set up the extra bedroom as an office of sorts and didn’t have an extra bed for guests. It had worked out when his mom and sisters were in town, because he could pawn them off on Jeni and her two-bedroom house.

  Though he could have found something cheaper, the location couldn’t be beat—the River Market district was eclectic and fun, full of restaurants, bars, and a huge farmers market that attracted people from all over the city in the warmer months.

  He made himself a simple sandwich and crashed on his couch, remote in hand. As he had every time since their dinner together, he thought of Lauren while he scrolled through the documentaries in his queue.

  Andrew: Have you seen the new killer whale documentary?

  Several minutes passed with no response. Just when he’d decided she wasn’t going to answer, his phone dinged.

  Lauren: Watched it last night. Do it.

  Andrew: Doing it.

  Lauren: Though, I should warn you it was a little fishy.

  Andrew: I sea what you did there.

  Lauren: Salmon had to say it.

  Andrew: You’ve got me hooked on puns now.

  Lauren: It wasn’t on porpoise.

  Andrew: Let’s just clam down a little bit.

  Lauren: Don’t krill my vibe.

  Andrew: Eh. When you think of a better one, let minnow.

  Lauren: Whale done.

  Andrew: Shell yes, it was.

  Lauren: Water you thinking now?

  Andrew: Damn, I can’t think of any more. You win this one. How was your Monday?

  Lauren: Pretty good, actually. Yours? How do you feel?

  Andrew: I’m good.

  Lauren: You sure?

  Andrew: I’m sure. My day was busy, but I like it that way.

  Lauren: Me too.

  Andrew: Have a good night, hope to see you Thursday.

  She didn’t reply, and he tried to think of other things. But tonight, like most others, Lauren Taylor wasn’t far from his mind.

  Chapter Nine

  Andrew: Happy Turkey Day. How was work?

  Lauren stared at the message. She was curled up in her favorite navy armchair, wearing an Oklahoma City Thunder sweatshirt and leggings, a documentary about juveniles in the prison system playing on her television.

  She hesitated, as she had before responding to all his messages lately. She’d been on edge since her run-in with Gavin last week. Nothing happened that night, she told herself. You didn’t know Andrew was the one meeting you. You stopped it before things went too far. You did nothing wrong. It might not even be wrong.

  Nevertheless, Gavin’s words troubled her. There’d been that moment when she and Andrew had nearly kissed, and if Gavin had seen that, it would be difficult to convince anyone they were just friends. Who else had been with Gavin? Had more people from work witnessed the same thing? Would she gain a reputation around the cancer center as someone who hooked up with patients?

  Earlier in the week she’d searched the institutional policies posted on the intranet and found nothing regarding pharmacist relationships with patients. As she suspected, it was a clear rule that physicians weren’t to engage in a sexual relationship with a patient they were treating, but for the rest of the health care team, it was unclear. It also didn’t mention patients no longer under a provider’s care.

  To be on the safe side, she should assume the strictest rule applied to her.

  But she couldn’t convince herself that she couldn’t be friends with the guy. A few months ago, she’d met a twenty-four-year-old girl at the end of her treatment for acute promyelocytic leukemia, and the two had become fast friends. Lauren met her for lunch at the cancer center café several times, and now that her therapy was complete, they still spoke regularly. She didn’t have to treat Andrew differently just because he was male, did she? An extremely sexy male whom she was undeniably attracted to?

  Okay, maybe she should.

  But she didn’t want to.

  There was no harm in talking to him, so long as she kept things strictly pl
atonic.

  Lauren: Slow. How’s your day going?

  Andrew: Pretty good. I’m at Jeni’s. You gonna join us for pizza?

  Lauren: I don’t think so, but I appreciate the invite.

  Andrew: You sure? Jeni’s been talking about it all day. She hasn’t met many people since she moved here. I think she was looking forward to getting to know you.

  Lauren: Give her my number. I’ll hang out with her anytime.

  Andrew: Like…today?

  Lauren: *sigh*

  Andrew: Come on. We’re lonely over here. We’re used to spending Thanksgiving with 25 people.

  Lauren: I really shouldn’t.

  Andrew: Shouldn’t or won’t?

  Lauren: Both.

  Andrew: What you shouldn’t be is alone on a holiday.

  Lauren: Wouldn’t be the first time.

  Andrew: I don’t like that. I can’t possibly in good conscience allow it to happen again.

  Lauren: I don’t mind, I’m used to it.

  Andrew: I have an idea…let’s pun war for it. If you win, I’ll leave you to your sad Thanksgiving by yourself. If I win, you come sit with my twin sister and me and eat pizza and watch sitcom reruns.

  Lauren: Those sound the same.

  Andrew: You in or not?

  Lauren: How do we know who wins?

  Andrew: The first person who can’t come up with a response loses. Longer than a minute to respond, that’s the forfeit.

  Lauren: Fine, but I get to pick the topic.

  Andrew: By all means.

  Lauren: The human body.

  Andrew: …sorry. I passed out there for a second.

  Lauren: Not like, inappropriate stuff. I figure as a medical professional I’ll win this one easy.

  Andrew: Try me.

  Lauren: Am I starting?

  Andrew: Sure, go a-head.

  Lauren: You think you’re so humerus.

  Andrew: I’m better than all the wrist.

  Lauren: I knee-d you to take it up a notch.

  Andrew: Whatever. I toed you I’m good at this.

  Lauren: Psoas I was saying…

  Andrew: (I don’t know what that is but I’ll trust it’s a real thing) You sure can de-liver a line.

  Lauren: That one was hard to stomach.

  Andrew: I got your back.

  Lauren: Hip-hip hooray!

  Andrew: I heart-ly think that counts.

  Lauren: I need to win this but urine my way.

  Andrew: Eye will escort you into the house after I win.

  Lauren: Whoa, don’t ovary-act.

  Andrew: Come on. We be-lung together.

  Lauren froze. She read the text again. We belong together? Her heart skipped a beat and she told it to stop being stupid.

  Andrew: TIME

  Andrew: I WIN

  He texted an address only ten minutes from Lauren’s house.

  Andrew: See you soon

  Barbara Streisand.

  …

  Forty-five minutes later Lauren sat in her car, around the corner from Jeni’s house, at war with herself.

  You’re not doing anything wrong.

  This is a bad idea.

  You’re spending the holiday with friends.

  You shouldn’t be doing this.

  She was on unfamiliar ground, and she didn’t like it. She’d never snuck out of her dad’s house. She’d never gotten a speeding ticket or been arrested. Never got caught drinking before she turned twenty-one. Kept an honest approach to school—did her own work and never cheated her way through a test.

  In all honesty, she never understood those who were rule-breakers and risk-takers. She’d never had the desire to do something that seemed wrong or questionable, and it had never been a temptation.

  Until now.

  She rubbed her face with both hands and groaned. What was her deal? She shouldn’t be here. So why had she taken a shower, carefully arranged her hair into a messy bun, and chosen a shirt that brought out her eyes?

  Because she was weak. And because she wanted to. She wanted to spend the evening with Andrew and Jeni.

  And she wasn’t going to back down from her end of the bet.

  We be-lung together.

  She was disappointed in herself for allowing those words to push her mind off course. She was being stupid. His silly game threw her off, when it didn’t mean anything. This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to get involved with him. She’d followed her heart once for a ridiculously handsome guy and it had ended up broken.

  She was comfortable with herself, but she was no ravishing beauty. She was moderately attractive…pretty, even. Everyone raved about her unique hair color, and before having had her own chest enhanced, Emma had frequently eyed Lauren’s ample breasts with envy.

  She was a solid six out of ten. Maybe even a seven.

  But people tended to pair up with those in their same general attractiveness category. It was how the world worked. So, in undergrad, when a perfect ten had smiled in her direction, she’d been so bewildered and flattered by the attention, she hadn’t noticed the warning signs.

  Here she was again, acting like the same flustered idiot she was then. Andrew, who was easily an eleven, had said something romantic via text message. Her mind had known it was a game they were playing, but her heart took over and she’d hesitated.

  For a full minute.

  “You’re not doing anyone any good by sitting here and stewing about it. Stop being a baby and just go,” she muttered, and shifted the car into drive.

  She turned right onto Jeni’s street and crept along, leaning forward with squinted eyes to read the house numbers as she passed. She found the correct one, fourth on the right. It was a cute craftsman-style home painted white with a wooden porch swing in the front.

  A few other families must have been hosting the holiday, because the street was packed with cars. Lauren found an open spot two houses down and parked.

  On a warmer day she might have ambled up the street, gathering up her courage to approach the door. But it was twenty-two degrees and windy, and each gust was like shards of ice on her face. Lauren rushed down the sidewalk and up to the blue front door.

  She heard several loud voices coming from inside, but before she could fully process what that meant, the door swung open.

  Chaos ensued.

  A clamor of voices, mostly female, spilled from inside.

  Am I at the wrong hou—before she could even finish her thought, a white dog burst through the open doorway. The canine slammed into Lauren’s knees and knocked her backward. She hit the deck with a grunt, landing awkwardly on her left hip. Pain sliced through her wrist where she threw her hand down to brace the fall.

  “Duke!” A girl who looked like Jeni shot past, chasing after the dog, who took off at a sprint down the sidewalk.

  Lauren pushed herself to a sitting position as a little girl walked outside and stood at Lauren’s feet.

  “Hello,” the girl said. Her hair was a white-blond mass of curls, and she wore a long-sleeved Frozen T-shirt, leopard print pants, and sparkling red shoes that reminded Lauren of the Wizard of Oz.

  “Um. Hi?” Lauren said.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Lauren.” A loud clattering sound reached Lauren’s ears. “Um, is there someone named Andrew here?”

  The little girl frowned. “Are you talking about Uncle Andy?”

  “Probably.”

  Little blue eyes narrowed, and tiny hands propped on small hips. She clutched a pink purse in her fingers, and it dangled by her side. “Are you his girlfriend?”

  Was this an interrogation?

  “No, I’m not. But, um, is he here?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

&nb
sp; “What you want with him.”

  Lauren was confused and amused at the same time. And she had no idea how to answer that.

  What did she want with him?

  The little girl tried a different tactic. “Do you think he’s still cute with no hair?”

  “Alva?” came a deep voice. “Where are you?” Andrew stepped through the doorway, and his eyes went wide. “Lauren?”

  He immediately knelt down by her side. “Are you okay? Why are you on the ground?”

  “Stupid…dog knocked…her down,” came Jeni’s breathless voice. She stepped onto the porch, pulling the shameful -looking dog by the collar. “Sorry…about that.”

  Jeni pushed the dog into the house and swung the little girl up into her arms. “Come on.” They went inside and the door closed, leaving Lauren and Andrew alone on the porch.

  Lauren’s wide eyes met Andrew’s. She looked at the door and the pandemonium within, and back to Andrew.

  He straightened and held his hand out to her. She gripped his big, strong hand, and he pulled her to her feet with ease. His grasp lingered for a second longer than necessary before he dropped his arm to his side.

  “I’m sorry,” he began. “They all showed up a half hour ago. My mom and dad, Rhonda, and Valerie and her husband and kids. Even though we told them not to come. We had no idea, and I couldn’t find my phone to warn you…” He trailed off. He appeared to be offering her a small smile, but it ended up more like a grimace. “At least the extended family didn’t come.”

  Lauren brushed off her backside with a sigh and said nothing.

  “I understand if you don’t want to, but I’d love it if you stayed.” His eyes turned soft and pleading. “When I told my mom you were coming she got so excited.”

  As if conjured by some spirit, the door opened to reveal Andrew’s mother.

  “Lauren! I’m glad you’re here.” The petite, gray-haired woman wrapped an arm around Lauren’s shoulders and continued speaking as she pulled Lauren through the doorway.

  Lauren glanced back and bugged her eyes out at Andrew, and with a grin on his face, he mouthed, I’m sorry.

  “I could use another hand in the kitchen. We’re kind of short on time. Just started getting the meal together twenty minutes ago, you know. No time for a turkey but I’m making a ham, is that okay with you?”