Bossy (24 page)

I hold out my hand. “Declan Riordan, stepson, lawyer, hotheaded jerk.”

“Nice to meet you, Declan.” She takes my hand and squeezes it gently. “Annette Riordan, event planner, wife, not your fucking mother.”

A laugh bursts out of me, and she takes one look at my face before laughing right along with me. This might just work out after all.

Now all I have to do is win back the girl.

“H
ello?” It takes a second before I realize I haven’t answered the call yet because I actually need to press a physical button.

My old phone is in pieces by the roadside, and I need to get a new one—which is great, I guess—but in the meantime I’m borrowing one of Mom’s old phones and it’s straight out of the digital stone age, plus none of my contacts are in it.

On the positive side, hardly anyone has this number, so I don’t have to worry about hearing from Declan, or Michael or pretty much anyone else on my current shit list.

I find what I hope is the right button and try again. “Hello?”

“What’s the difference between a lawyer and a herd of buffalo?”

A faint smile curls my lips. I haven’t missed work, but I’ve missed Carl. He must've gotten the number from Mom. “I have no idea. What is it?”

“A lawyer charges more.”

I groan with appropriate theatrical flair. “That one was horrible. Really horrible.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t sound it. “I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel here. I think you’ve heard all my good ones.”

“No, wait. How about, ‘Nobody would bother bringing lawyers back from the brink of extinction’?”

He laughs. “You’re a natural, kid. Why are you wasting your time studying so you can work with these stick-in-the-muds?”

“It’s one of life’s great mysteries. So what’s up?” I look out the kitchen window at the grounds behind Garrett’s house. I might be living here now but it doesn’t feel like mine. Not yet, if ever. Anyway, if Carl’s calling me, something is probably going on, and that something likely involves Declan.

“It’s about Mr. Riordan.”

I knew it. “Listen, it’s great to hear your voice and this oatmeal isn’t nearly as satisfying as a donut, but there’s a reason I’m not picking up
Mr. Riordan’s
calls. I don’t want to talk to him. It doesn’t matter whose phone he uses. Feel free to tell him that.”

“Don’t hang up.” The words rush out of him before I can disconnect. “He didn’t ask me to call, it’s not like that. Well, okay, it sort of is, but hang on a minute. He’s not here. It’s just me.”

A phantom noose is dropping down around my throat, threatening to drag me back into Declan’s drama, but I owe Carl. Even if listening to him about chances got my heart stomped on. “Alright. What’s this about?”

“I’ve got a message of sorts for you. Do you have the news on?”

“No. Why?”

“The Cooper trial starts today. They’ve allowed for televising it.”

That’s unusual. I know for a fact we were planning on requesting the trial be held in private. Or at least as private as such a juicy popular interest story can get. “Why on earth would they do that?”

“Well, obviously the workers want all the attention they can get on the case, so their lawyers requested it. The judge allowed it, and for God knows what reason, Mr. Riordan agreed.”

That’s beyond unusual. That’s crazy. Why on Earth would Declan agree? It’s not like Cooper isn’t in a terrible light already. Putting that sleaze on camera for everyone to see? It will be a nightmare.

“Anyway, Mr. Riordan said that you had some sort of personal stake in this case and asked me to call and let you know it would be televised. That’s the whole message. I don’t know anything more, honest.”

None of this makes sense, unless... Unless he’s having it televised for me. I hated being on the wrong side of the case, but I’m actually interested in seeing how it plays out and Declan would know that. What does it mean that he wants me to watch?

It could be a peace offering, him wanting me to watch the inevitable crash and burn, or it could be another setup. Maybe he’s so secure in his win that he wants to rub it in my face.

I want to believe the first, but I’m afraid it might be the second.

Either way, the bait has been dangled, and I know I won’t be able to resist watching. “Alright, I’ll turn it on. I hope you’re making his life miserable, by the way. I can’t be there to help, but I’m sure you can think of something.”

He laughs, a loud braying sound that comes straight from his gut. “I miss you
and
your donuts.”

“Miss you too, Carl.” I never thought I’d miss that laugh, but I do. “Maybe I’ll drop by one day to say hi.” Not very likely, not so long as Declan’s working there.

He one-ups me. “How about we make plans for lunch next week? I’ll email you, and we’ll figure something out.” Carl pauses, and I almost hang up, but then he drops his second bomb. “I’m not the only one who misses you.”

The noose tightens, squeezing my heart instead of my neck. “It doesn’t matter. He went too far.”

“I know, kiddo. I know.
If
it was him. Do you really believe he’d go that far??”

“You think Declan has limits?” What a joke. Even so, what if? I can’t go down that route. I won’t. “Right and wrong don’t matter to him. He told me as much himself when he convinced me to work that case. What matters is who presents the strongest argument, and let’s just say that the evidence is stacked against him.”

“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

I shake my head even though I know he can’t see it. “My heart isn’t as durable as the criminal justice system.”

“T
his is Anne Caraway for Breaking News. In a move that surprised many industry experts, Cooper Holdings has refused any attempt to settle the lawsuit brought against them on behalf of a large group of former employees. Today, we will be bringing you the start of what promises to be quite an interesting trial.”

The TV at Garrett's house is so ridiculously huge that I feel like I should’ve brought popcorn. It’s like watching the news on a movie screen. Considering I’ve never seen him even turn it on, it feels like a bit of a waste.

It’s weird to hear a news report on a case I’ve worked on. I’d be with them there today if I hadn’t quit. I’m both relieved and frustrated about that. This was my first real case, and I didn’t even see it through to the end.

Not that anyone blames me. There might be some debate in the family about who exactly caused what, but the one part everyone agrees on is that I’m the one who got screwed. Oh yeah, the video made that part
really
clear.

Garrett and my mother have both tried to get me to talk to him, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Either he did it, and can go burn in Hell, or he didn’t, and he hates my guts.

I’ve been too chicken to find out.

The perky blonde news anchor turns to an older man in a dark blue suit with a graying combover. “Herb Andover from the Andover and Andover Law Firm is here with us today. Mr. Andover, is this normal procedure?”

He shakes his head solemnly. “No, indeed it is not, Miss Caraway.” His words come out slowly and evenly, each one carefully thought through before he lets it pass his lips. “Normally, a settlement would be reached. Honestly, I’ve looked at the case, and I’m surprised Cooper’s team didn’t take what was offered. It would astound me if the final verdict isn’t a much larger financial loss for Cooper, not to mention the tremendous loss of face. The fact that his counsel didn’t protest the television broadcast makes me wonder what they have up their sleeves.”

My thoughts exactly. What the heck is Declan doing? The guy on TV is right, but I knew they wouldn’t take the settlement. Cooper would never have agreed to that, even if it would be in his best interests. At this point they should just be trying to get it done quickly and privately to mitigate the potential for disaster.

I’m surprised by how conflicted I feel. Nothing would make me happier than seeing Harry Cooper crash and burn while everyone watches. But even if I should, I don’t want to see Declan dragged through the mud with him, not until I’m completely sure about what happened at the wedding. Then if I still think he did it? I’ll be the first one there to stomp his face into the dirt.

The camera pans to the front of the courthouse just as a group of men and women climb the long elegant steps, all of them in dark, professional suits. Even at a distance, Declan stands out. He’s taller and broader than the rest. He was made to lead the way, just like his father. My heart does a little flip at the sight, but I will it to keep still, reminding myself that the way he leads isn’t where I want to go.

Suddenly the camera zooms, and his face fills the screen, handsome and confident. The field reporter jumps in without a pause. “Mr. Riordan, what’s your plan? Do you really think it’s possible to win this?” Declan’s face is obscured by the fuzzy tip of a microphone, making him back up with a flash of irritation across his face.

“You know I can’t comment on that while the case is still in progress.” He looks squarely into the camera. “But I feel confident that our key witness will be the tipping point.”

Huh? There weren’t any good witnesses for the case. That was one of our biggest problems. Did they find someone at the last minute? They couldn’t have, we did everything but go through the phone book one by one.

“There’s been a lot of talk about your witness, Mr. Lloyd Peterson. Mr. Riordan, could you elaborate? How do you think he can help?” The reporter rattles off his questions like a machine gun.

“No further comments.” Declan pushes the microphone out of his way, creating a short burst of feedback before someone shuts if off. The crowd seems to automatically adjust to let him through as his team goes into the court building. Following closely behind them are Cooper, smoking one of his cigars, and his useless friend.

“Are you sure you want to watch this?” Mom’s voice startles me. She’s walked into the room without me noticing.”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I really don’t know.”

“Me neither, and yet here I am.” She sits down next to me, her fingers worrying at the cuffs of her sleeves. “Want company?”

I lean against my mother’s shoulder, quietly accepting her support when she slips an arm around me. “Yeah.”

“This won’t change anything, not for us. But...” Mom’s voice is sad. “Is it horrible to hope my husband’s firm loses so that maybe it does change something for someone else who still needs it?”

“Absolutely not,” I answer without even having to pause to think.

But I think she’s wrong about one thing. I think Declan has a plan, and it could change everything. I just don’t know if I trust it to be for the better or for the worse.

I
’m about to roll the dice on my career in the highest stakes game of my life, and I don’t even know if she’s watching. I fucking hope she is, but I won’t know until after the dust settles.

My heart is pumping, and the adrenaline is kicking in. Walking into court always reminds me of entering the boxing ring back in my college days. Nailing someone with words isn’t always as satisfying as rocking them with my fists, but it has that same rush, just without all the blood and spit.

That’s a good thing, most days.

If she can’t even bring herself to watch me on screen, well, I’d still go through with it. At some point in the last week, it’s become painfully clear to me that we can’t—and shouldn’t—always save the assholes of the world from themselves. Not Cooper. Not Michael.

Not me.

But I’d really prefer she was watching, because I’d hate to think that I’m doing all this just to find that she doesn’t give a fuck. I can deal with jobless, but I’m not interested in jobless and alone. When I close my eyes, she’s the only one I see, and there’s no one else that’s going to take her place.

The fifth floor courtroom is buzzing like a hive of agitated bees. On the right, cameras and microphones stick out of the benches like the spears of a Roman phalanx, ready to catch the bodies of the defeated. Me and my team, that’s who they want to see bleed. Makes for a shitty day for us, but great TV.

Aside from the press, pretty much everyone in the room is there in support of the other side. Sure there’re a few court regulars who go to anything and everything, but mostly it’s disgruntled employees and pissed off family members. They radiate angry energy with no outlet to channel it.

I glance at Cooper sitting next to me, and grin at the sheen of sweat starting to pop out on his forehead. I’m really looking forward to seeing his face when he realizes his whole case is a house of cards. He’s nervous, but too stupid to understand how badly this is going to go for him.

His bet is even worse than mine, risking everything on one player because he can’t bring himself to believe that after so many years of doing whatever the hell he wanted, he’s finally going to get smacked down like the rabid dog he is.

“All rise, the Honorable Judge Bailey presiding.” The whole courtroom moves as one at the bailiff’s announcement. The angry buzz tunes down to a quiet hum as the crowd waits to see the show.

A white-haired man with square glasses and a bit of a paunch enters the room wearing judge’s robes. His wrinkles and spots make him look old enough to retire years ago, but his blue eyes are clear, examining the room with a sharp gaze before he takes his seat on the podium. Judge Bailey. His record is solid. Old-school, but by the book and unimpressed by theatrics. “Please be seated.”

The plaintiff’s opening statement tears at the heartstrings. I’m bored out of my skull, just wanting to get on with it, and I’m sure that plays right into his picture of us as uncaring monsters. Their lawyer is Dave Slater, a tall, black man, square faced and serious. He knows his shit, and he’s a fighter. Both in court and on the softball field. He’d better buy me a beer later for handing him an easy win, and then I’ll even the score next season.

Knowing we were the other side, I’m sure he’s worked his ass off, so I’ll let him have his moment. He’ll be expecting a curve ball, but he’s going to slam it out of the park.