The Lawyer (2 page)

CHAPTER 3

              I stared at my closet for what felt like hours. Had it really come to this? I had never been one of those girls who screamed “I have nothing to wear,” but for a business casual dinner, I truly felt like I had nothing to wear. Most of my clothes were things that were either comfortable and ratty or comfortable and inappropriate. I wore a uniform at the café, so I couldn’t exactly wear that tonight. I sighed in frustration. Why hadn’t I bought more dresses like my mother told me to?
              In the end, I settled on a flowered print dress that my grandmother had gotten me a few summers ago. It said “church” more than “professional,” but it would have to work. I paired it with black heels and my leather jacket, and I felt ready enough. Twirling in the mirror, I couldn't help but watch the way that I moved. I was curvy, for sure, but the dress made me forget about that for a few moments. Just for tonight, I felt beautiful.
              When the door rang promptly at six, I was ready. I left a note for Timothy on the table so he wouldn’t wait up if I got home late. We almost never ate dinner together because of our separate shifts, but occasionally he came home early and I didn’t want him to worry.
              I opened the front door and was surprised to see a stiff, tall gentleman waiting for me.
              “Miss Elizabeth, I presume?” The man questioned. I almost expected him to have an English accent, but he didn’t.
              “Yes, that’s me, but who are you?”
              “I’m Mr. Smith’s driver,” the man informed me. “Ted Johnson. If you would please follow me, I would be happy to take you to your dinner reservation.”
              “Um, of course,” I told him. “Just a sec.”
              I grabbed my purse and locked the front door tightly. I shoved my keys in the pocket of my jacket and followed Johnson to the car. He opened the back door for me and I hesitated.
              “I can really sit up front,” I told him, suddenly uncomfortable at the idea of a chauffeur. After all, this was just dinner. It wasn’t a date. It wasn’t a prom. It was dinner.
              “It’s really no trouble at all, Madame. If you please.”
              Johnson nodded again at the opened door and for the sake of getting on with the night, I quietly slid onto the leather seat and Johnson closed the door. I fastened my seat belt and wiggled for a moment until I felt comfortable.
              “This car is pretty nice,” I told Johnson, once he was seated and had started the car.
              “Yes, Madame.”
              “Have you been working for Alex for a long time?” I queried.
              “Long enough, Madame.”
              “It’s really no problem for you to call me Elizabeth. Or Liz. That’s what everyone else calls me, really.”
              “If you would prefer.”
              “I would.”
              We rode in silence the rest of the way, and I was incredibly relieved when the car finally stopped in front of a fancy French restaurant. I hurried out of the car before Johnson could get my door. Alex was waiting with a grin on his face. Did he think I looked out of place? Was he laughing at my dress?
              “You don’t like being pampered,” he said simply, as I approached. Oh. So he was laughing because I’d hurried out of the car. I shrugged, but said nothing as I gave Mr. Johnson a slight wave as a thank-you. He nodded curtly before pulling off.
              “You look nice.” Alex said simply. Taking my hand, he led me into the restaurant. The maître de seemed to know him and, without a word, led us to a quiet table in the back of the restaurant.
              “This place is really nice,” I whispered to Alex.
              “Yes, it is, but you don’t have to whisper. It’s a restaurant, not a library, Elizabeth.”
              I winced at the remark, but said nothing. What was Alex’s problem? He had seemed so nice at the café, but here, well, he seemed like a pretentious snot. Did girls usually like that sort of thing? Did most people enjoy being bossed around by a total stranger? I wasn’t sure what to think, so I simply picked up the menu and began looking over it.
              When the server appeared to take our drink order, Alex ordered two glasses of wine.
              “Actually,” I said, taking charge, “I’ll just have water, please.” The server glanced at Alex, who nodded slightly, and then disappeared.
              “You don’t drink?” he questioned.
              “I’m not a bit fan of wine.”
              Alex seemed amused at my comment. What did he find so funny? First my “inability to be pampered” and now the fact that I didn’t want an overpriced glass of wine?
              “So, Alex,” I said, placing the menu on the table. “What did you want to talk about tonight?”
              Before he could answer, the server appeared again with our drinks. That was fast. I wondered if Alex was some sort of special client. Everyone seemed to give him the utmost respect and a huge amount of attention.
              “Shall I order for us?” Alex queried. Sighing, I nodded. The entire menu was in French and I had no idea what it said.
              “But no shellfish,” I said quickly. “I’m allergic.”
              Alex began speaking French to the waiter, who nodded aggressively and then vanished again. The man hadn’t said three words, yet the service we were receiving was outstanding. I wondered if Alex was a good tipper, but then let the thought slip away. Of course he was. He was also, apparently, filthy rich and incredibly bossy. What a wonderful combination.
              “What did you order?”
              “Something I’m sure you’ll enjoy.”
              Mysterious. Okay. “So…why am I here?”
              Was that a twinkle in Alex’s eye?
              “I thought you wanted to be here,” he said simply. “After all, it was you who called me. A woman who speaks her mind and who isn’t afraid to take charge is very interesting to me, Elizabeth.”
              I absorbed what he said for a moment, and then asked, curiously, “So, are you looking for an assistant? Or is this a date?”
              “Would it hurt if I said that yes, I am looking for an assistant, but that I also find you incredibly attractive?”
              “Well,” I said, blushing. There was that tingling sensation again. What was it about this man that made me feel so out of my element? So weak at the knees? I felt like a little middle schooler talking to her biggest crush. “I do have a boyfriend.”
              “Ah, of course.” Alex nodded. “I shouldn’t have been surprised. An exciting woman like you would certainly have caught the eye of an eligible bachelor already.”
              I smiled. “But I could use a better job,” I told him honestly. “The one I have, well, you’ve seen where I work.”
              “That I have. Well, what sort of position are you hoping for, Elizabeth?”
              “Cowgirl,” I mumbled as I took a sip of my water.
              “What was that?”
              “Something full time,” I answered, but I could tell that he had heard my smart remark and I hoped that it wouldn’t ruin my chances. I bit my lip, suddenly embarrassed. Why had I said that, and after I already told him I had a boyfriend? Why was I thinking about riding
anyone
, especially Alex?
              Just then, the food arrived. I thanked the server and eagerly looked everything over.
              “This all looks absolutely amazing,” I said honestly. “You must come here frequently.”
              “I do come here a lot,” Alex admitted. “It’s one of the better French restaurants in the city, and the service here is unbeatable.”
              The rest of the meal was much more casual and calm than the beginning. Alex didn’t comment on my “cowgirl” remark and for that, I was thankful. When we were done eating, Alex paid the check and I peeked as he wrote in the tip. He was a generous tipper, indeed.
              “Thank you for dinner,” I said simply as he helped me into my jacket.
              “It was my pleasure, Elizabeth.”
              As we exited the restaurant, Alex turned to me. “Elizabeth, I had a lovely time with you this evening. I would be honored if you would consider coming to work for me as my assistant.”
              I nodded, with a smile.
              “While we haven’t discussed your pay expectations, I feel certain that we can agree on a number that satisfies us both.”
              “Thanks, Alex. That really means a lot to me.”
              “After all,” he said, with that twinkle in his eyes, again. “I should hate for you to be stuck in a position you didn’t like.” Then he leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “Personally, I’m quite fond of cowgirl.”
              I felt myself instantly blush at the feeling of his breath on my ear and that sweet, dirty talk of his.
              “Alex, I’m so sorry, I know that was inappropriate,” I hurriedly tried to explain, but he held up a hand.
              “No need to apologize, Elizabeth. You should know that I very much enjoyed your company, and-“ he leaned in again, “if you should ever find yourself without a boyfriend, I should very much like to enjoy your company even more.”
              Just then, Johnson pulled up with the car. Alex opened the door and I slid obediently into my seat.
              “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Alex said, “and we can discuss your new schedule.”
              He closed the door for me, and a moment later I was gone.

CHAPTER 4

              “How’d dinner go?” Timothy asked, looking up from a book when I came inside.
              “Oh, it went okay." I was still feeling anxious and excited about the way that Alex and I had parted. I didn't feel like it was appropriate to be so attracted to a stranger, but I also knew that I loved Tim and would never act on my feelings. Instead of telling him about the flirting with Alex, I simply said, "I got the job.” I leaned down and kissed him. “I’m pretty tired, though, I’m just going to go to bed.”
              “Okay, Sweetie. Love you.”
              “I love you, too.”
              Relieved to be alone, I slipped into a nightie and slid under the soft covers of my bed. I loved Timothy, I really did, but I had felt some powerful emotions at dinner and I wasn’t exactly sure what to do with them. Timothy and I had been together for a long time – almost a year – and I was sure that I was in love. I had felt ready to commit to him, and moving in together had financially been a good choice. So why had I felt so passionately about Alex tonight?
              I realized, with a start, that if Alex had invited me home with him, I might have said yes. Maybe I wouldn't have, but I would have wanted to say "yes." That felt so wrong. I was
not
a cheater and I never had been, but Alex made me feel excited and nervous and bad. I wanted to impress him. I wanted to do a lot more than impress him. I wanted to see what was under that fancy suit of his and I wanted to prove to him that just because I was coming from a coffee shop didn’t mean I was unaware of how to please a man.
              Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried to fall asleep. I drifted into a restless sleep filled with dreams of coffee beans, paperwork, and lawyers. What was I getting myself into?

***

              Sandy was not pleased when I turned in my notice to quit.
              “You’re seriously doing this to me? It’s busy season!” She complained. “The colder it gets, the more people want their hot mochas. You can’t do this.”
              “It’s nothing personal,” I told her. Why was Sandy so irritated about this? I’d been a faithful employee and rarely late. I always worked hard and I never complained or yelled at the customers like
some
employees did. “I just got a new job offer and the pay is much better. That’s it.”
              Sandy sighed. “I understand, it’s just that you’re really good. It’s not going to be easy to replace you. Nothing personal against anyone else,” she nodded slightly at the new girl who was fumbling to work the register correctly. “It’s just that training someone to take your position is going to take time.”
              “I know, and that’s why I’ll work the full two weeks. I already told my new employer that I can’t start until I’ve finished my commitment to you, Sandy. I know how important it is to leave on good terms and I don’t want there to be any tension between us should I need to stop by and get a cup o’ Joe before work some morning.”
              Sandy let out a hesitant smile before she asked, “What about Tim?”
              “What about him?”
              “Does he quit, too?”
              “What? No. My decision has nothing to do with Tim.”
              “And you two are still…?”
              “Still what?”
              “Screwing.”
              “Sandy!”
              “Sorry, that was tacky. You two are still shacking up?”
              Was she serious? Somehow this felt like harassment, like something I shouldn't have to deal with or be obligated to answer, but I did. “Yes, we’re still living together and very much a couple, Sandy. This decision isn’t going to do anything to damage our relationship. I could just really use the cash and it’ll look good to have a legal place on my resume when I start job hunting for a career.”
              She gave me a sideways glance, but simply said “Gotcha."
              With that, Sandy turned and went to help the new girl, who had somehow managed to completely lock up the register and infuriate her customer at the same time. I sighed. It was going to be a
long
two weeks.
 

***

              "How was the interview?" Molly asked as we walked into class together. Sliding into my seat, I couldn't help but smile.
              "I got the job!" I told her.
              "I knew you would! You were made for this job," she told me, excitedly. "When do you start? Have you already turned in your notice?"
              "I turned it in today," I opened my notebook as the professor walked into the class. The rest of the students fell quiet as she began to speak, but Molly reached over and squeezed my hand.
              "I'm so happy for you," she smiled. "It's going to be great."
              I smiled back, wondering for the millionth time if I was making the right decision. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself, trying to remind myself why I wanted this. It was for my future. It would be good for me. It would be okay. I could do this.
              I picked up my pencil and started to write.
              Everything would be all right.