All Work, Let's Play, page 7
“Come,” Caleb says. “I’ll give you the grand tour now.” He walks off and we follow. He shows us the backyard, equipped with a deck, swimming pool and hot tub. When we go back inside, we go upstairs, not to the second floor, but to the third, where it seems all the amenities are. Movie theater, a large library filled to the brim with books, a spa area with a sauna, and a private balcony in the back that has a fire pit. It’s everything someone would want, and I hate the opulence. So much here with some people having so little.
Slightly disgusted, I go back to my room and undress down to my boxer briefs and put on a pair of sweatpants. I lay on my bed and let out a long breath. I’m tired down to my bones. Before I can stop myself, I’m pulled down into a deep, dreamless sleep.
I’m snapped from that sleep by my phone ringing. I grab for it blindly and answer it without checking who’s calling. “Hello?”
“Gage?”
I sit bolt upright and pull the phone from my ear. It’s Joyce. Fucking Joyce. Her calling now reminds me that I haven’t had a drink since I got here. And I know I’ll need one after this phone call.
I swallow roughly. “What do you want?”
“I wanted to see how you were.”
“Joyce, you left me at the altar and left a fucking note. You didn’t have the decency to tell me you were fucking around on me. You were a fucking coward. What do you want?” I nearly shout but fight to keep my voice under control.
“Gage, don’t be mad.”
“Mad? Joyce, I’m past mad. I’m at the edge of pissed. Why are you calling me? Where’s your new boyfriend? And how long had that been going on?”
“He’s outside. I wanted to call and check on you. I’ve been worried.”
I put my head in my hands and take a deep breath. It’s taking everything in me not to explode on her. I’ve been in a slump for a month, only getting out because of this case and now, she’s ruining it. “How long were you cheating on me, Joyce?” My voice is quiet. Sad. Subdued.
I hear her sigh. “Four months before the wedding.”
I suspected as much. She made up some bullshit excuse around that time that she wanted us to wait until our wedding day to be intimate again. I didn’t mind, because I wanted to do everything that made her happy. And we didn’t have sex that often; most times, she would say she was too tired and I wouldn’t mind.
“What do you want, Joyce?” I ask again, defeated.
“I miss you, Gage. I made a mistake. I—”
“No, you didn’t. You did me a favor. You did what you wanted, so now I’m doing what I want. I’ve moved on. Goodbye Joyce.” I end the call, fuming.
Of course, I haven’t moved on, but she doesn’t have to know that. The anger coursing through my veins is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. She has a lot of nerve, telling me she misses me, after leaving me high and dry with a note.
I throw the blankets off me and slide my feet into my Nike slides. I don’t bother to put on a shirt. I storm down the stairs to the bar and find a bottle of Jack. I don’t waste my time with ice. I pour a shot and throw it back, loving the burn down my throat. I pour another and toss it back, then lean my head on the bar. Why did she have to call me? I was doing well not thinking about her. I wasn’t getting better from her betrayal, but I was putting it out of my mind.
I pour a double shot and turn to sit on the couch and see Max standing at the edge of the desk, staring at me. He takes in my body and I stand under his scrutiny. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but he doesn’t speak. Just stares. I salute him with my glass and toss the double back. I turn to pour another when he speaks up.
“That’s enough.” His voice is quiet, but stern. He makes his way over to me and I turn away
“Fuck you, Max.” I pour another shot and before I can bring it to his lips, his hand is on my wrist.
“I said, that’s enough.” I snatch my hand back, spilling what I poured into my glass onto the backs of our hands. Max looks at the liquid and brings his hand to his lips to lick it off. My eyes dart to his tongue easing out of his mouth, then back to his eyes. He doesn’t look away as he licks the back of his hand clean. I take a shuddering breath, ensnared by his eyes, then shake my head and take a step back.
“What do you want, Max?” I pour another double shot but sip this one and sit down on the couch near the bar.
He sits beside me and reaches for my glass. I roll my eyes and pass it to him. I’m starting to feel the effects of the shots I took. That’s the only explanation I can give for me sharing my drink with a man who despises me.
“I heard you on the phone with Joyce.” I look at him with my eyebrows raised. “I was in the bathroom and your door was cracked. She cheated on you?”
I nod my head. “You read the letter she left behind.”
“No, I didn’t,” he counters, shaking his head for emphasis. “I saw your name on the front after I walked through the room and gave it to you.”
Glancing at him, I search his face to see if he’s lying. He looks like he’s telling the truth, so I tell him what it said. He takes a sip from my glass, then hands it back. I take it from him, staring into its depth.
He expels a breath. “She told me you two had an open relationship. That she wanted to stop and you didn’t, so she left. She said you were mentally and emotionally abusive, that you forced her into that lifestyle.”
I bark a laugh. That’s ridiculous. I’m sure he saw how devoted I was to her. I did anything she wanted me to when she wanted me to. I was wholly hers. Why would I want to have an open relationship? And abuse? I despise abuse of any kind.
“That’s a lie. Did she tell your parents that as well?” He doesn’t have to answer for me to know she did. Joyce lied to her whole family because she’s a coward and a cheater. And left me to look like the bad guy.
“Gage, listen—”
I hold my hand up, then stand suddenly. I sway a bit, the alcohol going to my head. “Don’t. You didn’t like me then, don’t start now. You didn’t like me before the wedding, so don’t pretend that her lies are the reason you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I never thought you belonged with her. I didn’t think you were good enough together.”
“Yeah, whatever, Max. I don’t care. The truth is your sister isn’t good enough for me. I gave her everything. Everything! I changed my apartment for her. I changed my life for her, not going out with my sister as much as I did. I used my savings for a wedding she didn’t even have the decency to show up to. I have nothing thanks to your sister. So sit with that for a bit. You can hate me for any other reason, but don’t let it be because I’m not good enough.”
I want to storm off, but of course, taking five quick shots was not the best idea for that. I trip and land heavily against the back of the couch. I pull myself upright and Max is beside me, grabbing my arm and leading me back to the couch. “Sit down. Relax before you hurt yourself. I don’t hate you because I didn’t think you were good enough for Joyce. I said you weren’t good enough together.”
“Then why?”
“I’m not getting into it. Just know that I don’t hate you and it has nothing to do with the Joyce.”
The alcohol makes me ask. “Does it have anything to do with what you were doing in the shower?”
He clenches his jaw. “No. Nothing. And it’s not what you think.” He says that a bit too quickly.
“Then what is it?” I shouldn’t push. But I’m drunk. So I keep talking. “You came when you saw me. You knew I was watching and you still came. Why?”
Max shakes his head and stands up. He leaves without another word, leaving me to sit my drunk ass alone on the sofa.
Chapter Eight
Luckily for me, I don’t have to be present for jury selection. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. After Max left me downstairs, I took a few more shots before I miraculously made my way to my own room. I wake up feeling terrible, something that hasn’t happened in a week. Fucking Joyce. I was getting along fine. I was deep into my work and actually falling asleep without having to drink myself into a stupor.
Her call really fucked me up. Mainly because I wasn’t ready to hear from her. I wasn’t ready to know what happened. I wasn’t ready to hear her voice, saying she misses me. It threw me off track. Now I feel like I’m on uneven footing again, trying to find my way back to my normal.
I’m also a bit afraid. To see Max. After what I said to him, I don’t know how to behave. I know I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have walked in on him and then to throw it back in his face. I can’t believe myself.
And it’s not like I’m upset he fantasized about me. Especially after my own cock was hard from the memory. I’m still confused about what that means exactly.
I don’t see Caleb or Max until it’s late in the afternoon and I’m less on edge. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I was drunk last night and out of character. I won’t try to figure out what Max is thinking and I won’t bring up anything I said or what he did in the shower. God, what he did in the shower.
I’ve been going over it all afternoon. About what I saw, how he stood there, stroking his dick while he watched me, how his body was bowed over his hand, stroking until completion. The look in his eyes when he finished.
When they walk in, I keep my eyes averted from Max, lest he see my expression. I look at Caleb and he looks exhausted yet satisfied.
“Good day, I presume?” I ask, turning in my chair to face him.
“It was, indeed. The judge is allowing us to start the trial tomorrow. The prosecuting attorney has no objections, so we can start right away. I have my opening arguments ready, so I won’t need anything from you tonight.”
I nod, take a deep breath, then raise my eyes to Max. His eyes are smoldering, staring at me intensely. I clear my throat and look away. “You ready for tomorrow, Max?”
He grunts in his throat, then turns and walks to the kitchen. Caleb raises his eyebrows in question, but I just shake my head. I turn back to my laptop and stare at it blankly.
Caleb sits on the side of the table and looks at me. “What’s the deal with you and Max? You were almost family.”
I’m not in the mood. I’m still embarrassed about what I said last night and I don’t want Caleb bringing up my failed wedding. “Not now, Caleb.”
He lets out a bark of laughter that washes over me and makes my skin tingle. I look over at him and he has mirth in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. “Come now, Gage. You can talk to me. I think.” He tilts his head and gives me a contemplative look. “I promise, I won’t judge.”
I sigh. I stand and walk to the bar and pour some Jack into a cup. Before I can bring it to my lips, I feel his hand on my wrist. I give him a deadpan look, thinking he’s going to tell me not to drink like Max did last night.
He doesn’t. He guides me over to a cabinet I didn’t really pay attention to and opens it. Caleb grabs one of the bottles of liquor that has a handsome white label with curling blue and black script I can’t read clearly.
“Here,” he says, pouring some of the liquid into a fresh glass. “Try this. It’s a smoother taste. I think you’ll like it.”
“You’re not trying to drug me and take advantage of me, are you?” I ask jokingly. His eyes go dark and he licks his lips.
“If I take you, it won’t be against your will.” I raise an eyebrow and he chuckles. “Drink, Gage. Tell me what you think.”
I choose to ignore his comment and sip the alcohol he’s poured for me. It doesn’t burn my tongue. Instead, it flows over it, warming me, tasting of honey and spice. It blazes a smooth trail down my throat, but not in an unpleasant way. It tastes amazing.
I want to toss it back, gulp it down, but I restrain myself. I take another sip, larger than the last and savor the flavor. This tastes like nothing I’ve ever had before. Long after I’ve swallowed, I taste differing flavors on my tongue, sweet and spicy colliding for dominance on my tastebuds. The slight habanero-like spice is subtle, but it adds a pleasant lingering flavor that works amazingly well.
“Jesus, this is delicious. What is it?”
Caleb smiles almost sadly and pours more into my glass and makes a glass for himself. “The Kings Titan. One of my family’s whiskeys.” He tosses his back and pours another right after. “This is one of the most expensive whiskeys sold in stores. Costs a few thousand dollars a bottle.”
My eyes bug out. “How many thousands?”
He looks at me squarely as he sits down on the couch. “Six, the last time I checked.”
I look at him, then at the bottle and try to figure out if it’s worth that much. It’s delicious and smooth and is satisfying to the palette, but six thousand dollars? I’m not sure. Jack doesn’t even compare to the smooth and mixed taste of this whiskey. But would I be willing to spend six grand on a bottle?
Shaking my head, I join him on the couch and turn to face him. “Damn, Caleb. That’s some fancy whiskey.” I wonder at the look on his face as he looks at the liquor in his glass, swirling it around. “You don’t like it?”
“No, I do. It’s a blend my father came up with himself. His life’s work, really.” He swirls his whiskey around in his glass some more, looking lost in thought. “That’s all he had time for. Not me. Especially not me. Whiskey and building the business. That’s why I don’t want anything to do with it. That’s why I’m a lawyer.” He looks over at me, another sad smile playing across his lips. “I’m a workaholic now, but I would stop as soon as I had kids. My father didn’t know how to do that.”
I stare at him, shocked that he’s telling me anything at all. Before my disaster of a wedding, he’d never said a kind thing to me. Now here he is, sharing his past. I don’t know what to say.
“That’s rough, Caleb.”
He shrugs, swallowing the rest of his whiskey. “I’ve come to terms with it mostly. Being back here brings back shitty memories.” He shakes himself, then turns to me, leg propped on the couch. “So tell me, why are you angry with Max?”
“I’m not angry with him. Max has never liked me.” I lean my head back on the couch and sigh. “I got a call from Joyce yesterday. He overheard and found out she’s a liar. He said some things, I said some things. Specifics aren’t important. Suffice it to say, we didn’t resolve anything. He still doesn’t care for me. He’s never told me why.”
Caleb analyzes my face, letting his eyes take me in. I hold still under his scrutiny, wondering what he’s thinking. His face betrays nothing, besides a slight lift of his lips. “I’m sure that’s not true. Regardless, we have to work together for the foreseeable future. Is it going to be a problem?”
I shake my head and finish my whiskey. It won’t be a problem. My outburst that first day notwithstanding, we haven't let it affect our work this past week. I’m able to put any animosity to the side for the sake of this case. I’m not sure if the same can be said about Max, seeing how he stormed out of here when he got home.
“Not for me. I’m good. So, what’s on the agenda tomorrow?” I inquire.
Again, his eyes roam over my face. It’s a little unnerving, the way they penetrate me. He shakes his head again, as if to clear it, and answers me. “Character witnesses for the prosecution. They have about twenty people, so I’m afraid that will take the rest of the week. We’re next, but we only have a few. The prosecution added about ten more after they saw our shortlist. Unfortunately, they’re trying to discredit us through sheer numbers, not through any actual medical or forensic testimony just yet.” Caleb sighs and I see the tiredness that radiates from him. Being on this case, defending one of his frat brothers, has to be weighing heavily on him. I feel a wave of sympathy for him. I’m still not completely sure if I like him, but he’s in a terrible situation.
“You need to talk about it?” I ask him softly. He’s opened up a bit about his family, but found family tends to be stronger than blood family in some cases.
He rubs a hand down his face and looks at me with weary eyes. “Not right now. When the case is over, I can talk. Right now, I need to focus on defending my friend.” He stands and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and expensive whiskey.
The next morning, I wake up, gut curled in anticipation. Today is the start of the trial. After getting myself dressed and ready, as I’m walking downstairs, I worry about Max. This is his first high-profile case, and I wonder if he’s ready for it. When I see him, I search his face, trying to figure out if he’s nervous. What I see is altogether different. His face is set in a determined mask, his eyes calm and he exudes an air of extreme competence. If I liked Max, I’d say it was a turn-on. Well, not a turn-on, because I’m not attracted to Max. Or men, for that matter. I don’t think. I roll my eyes at myself, thinking this case is going to be eventful.
The next week and a half is pretty boring. Boring because I have nothing to do, no additional research needed. It’s all character witness testimony. I have dug into the past of all the people who are set to testify and none of them have much for us to use against them. And Caleb refuses to be underhanded and use tactics like that to win his case. While I admire it, I think if he wants to win and get his client and friend off, he should do what he needs to do.
According to the witnesses for the prosecution, Tyree and Michael were poster boys for sainthood. No one had a bad word to say about them and they were pillars of the community. Poor Tyler is shrinking into his mother, squeezing my hand for dear life, listening to the blatant lies people are telling on the stand. I pat his hand and give him as many encouraging smiles as I can, but he’s trembling. I want to suggest he not come to the trial, that he not be subjected to this, but I’m sure he would raise hell to be here for his dad.
Mr. Dunbar isn’t faring any better, his face a pinched mask of distaste. I love that he believes his son and knows the people on the stand aren’t being completely honest. But I hate that he can’t say anything in his defense. Caleb keeps patting his arm, giving him looks to calm him down.
