Promise and Punishment, page 5
The ding of the elevator door opened. Tommy followed me out into the windowed lobby of the towering MelBrook Law Firm. People scurried across the luxurious marbled floors, their heels clicking like an orchestrated backdrop to the tune of hard-working elites. They parted in my presence, reserving their good mornings for when my firm expression eased. Everyone nodded, mirroring the nervousness that Tommy portrayed.
“It’s not all my fault! What about your princess? Isn’t she to blame?” He responded, reminding me that it was Mila who coaxed him into divulging about Alex’s case.
I could’ve forgiven him, had he shared some minor detail. But no, he had to give away the single most sensitive aspect of the case itself. I inhaled deeply, sobering my thoughts with the smell of freshly brewed coffee and expensive leather decor.
“She was doing her job. She’s a journalist. She’ll say or do anything to get you to spill.” I finally exhaled. Mila was good at exploiting others’ weaknesses, and when she told me how Tommy confirmed that a girl was found in Alex’s bed at The Pierre Hotel, I nearly shivered at the catastrophic possibilities. “Over six-hundred hours of non-disclosure agreement meetings were spent, resulting in a four-hundred-page document to be sent to witnesses and associates all across New York, and for what?” Tommy struggled to keep up with my pace, already loosening the black tie around his neck. “Because of you?”
“I fucked up.”
“No shit. But why?” I already knew the answer, but I wanted to hear him say it.
“It was Mila’s eyes…” he sighed. “She gave me the look. You know… the one where her chin drops, and her eyes go innocently big,” he admitted, stopping at the front of my office door, scratching his chin.
I knew the look he referred to, and more so of its effect. She’d given it to me before, and had my mind not already been hopelessly devoted to Gemma, I might have fallen victim to it myself.
“Did you say her name? Did you tell Mila about Natalie Brower?” I asked cautiously, speaking a name out loud that felt almost illegal in itself, because it was. The girl, the victim, the rolling stone to the previously mentioned nondisclosures.
Tommy pouted, squinting as if I were the sun itself. “Jesus. No, Parker. I’m a fool, not an idiot.” He looked disappointed in me for even asking.
I reached for his shoulder, giving a firm but assuring pat. I may have been more aggravated than he expected, because his childlike frown suddenly made me feel bad. He didn’t know that I was up all night, feeling uncontrollably anxious about what would happen once Gemma got home. Everything was messy, not perfectly safe like it was supposed to be, and in fact, I believe I led her down a more complicated path. No one could even realize how sick I felt, how I was physically ill with the thought that Gemma could have feelings for another man, one who I feared could ruin her life, just as he had for the girl in our case. I wanted to save her from it, but instead I pushed her toward it. What the fuck was I doing?
“Look at me.” I stuck my finger into his chest, jabbing it. “Look at my eyes. Are you looking?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I want you to remember them. Absorb what they look like and describe them to me.”
Tommy contemplated for a moment, guarded only by the whiff of his juniper aftershave.
“Fucking pissed,” he admitted under his breath.
“You’re god damn right. Now if Mila ever gives you that look again, I want you to think of me. If you see her eyes, you think of mine. Is that sexy to you?”
“No.”
“Good. Now don’t talk to her again.” I nodded slowly, till he did the same. I looked past him to Scarlett, my latest paralegal. She carried both my coffee and my mail. Tommy looked at her, a small brunette with a top bun, white blouse, and a grey fitted pencil skirt. “Don’t look at her either,” I warned, redirecting him back to me. “She’s a professional. We all are.”
“Good morning, Mr. Jones,” she greeted, shifting around Tommy as if he were a pillar of sharp glass. I waved him off as Scarlett followed me into my office.
“Scarlett,” I returned kindly, lifting the coffee from her hand. “You know I can get this myself. You’re the best paralegal we have at the moment, not a receptionist.”
“I aim to please,” she said quietly, almost nervously as I made my way to the dark, quartz desk at the center of my office. I took a quick sip of coffee, always being too preoccupied to ever fully appreciate my corner view of West Forty-second Street and Sixth Avenue. Bryant Park sat outside like a tiny oasis, a small patch of green heaven in a sea of steel beams and grey bricks.
“Well, you’re doing great. I appreciate how thoughtful you are,” I assured, giving her my first true smile of the day.
“Hold your praise. The coffee is to wake you up.”
“For what exactly?”
“Quinn from Tri-Tech moved your meeting up from twelve to ten.”
“That’s sudden, but I can manage.”
“Well… that’s not what the coffee’s for,” she hesitated. “Lina Castillo is here to see you,” she gestured towards the hall.
“Lina?” I groaned, taking a longer sip of coffee, returning to the stack of mail.
I knew why she was here, arriving much sooner than the attorneys’ meeting we had scheduled for later this afternoon. This was about last night, about her client’s involvement with my Gemma, my best friend, my Butterfly. I was already shifting in moods. This was not the good morning that Scarlett greeted me with, this was an early chess match with a powerful legal savant.
“Strong enough?” Scarlett checked in, referring to the coffee, rather than my interpretation. I took it as a question to my preparedness for Lina, who was clearly desperate to either intimidate or smooth things over. I figured both would be attempted, neither of which interested me.
“Always,” I replied confidently, unlike Scarlett’s hands which wrung together. She was good at what she did, but was still young, still too inept in the skill of disguising the anxiety of inevitable conflict. She wasn’t like Lina, whose overwhelming confidence always rivaled mine. At times it felt as though we were more like bucks than people, our horns locked in either a gaze or a verbal joust, exchanging cruel, and personal jabs that others found overtly competitive. All Lina and I ever wanted was to win. “Give me ten, then bring her in.”
I sat down, sifting the mail, stopping at a particularly thick, cream-colored envelope. I peeled back its embossed enclosure, removing a matted brochure from Belmont Hills. I didn’t expect it to arrive so quickly, having just requested Scarlett to retrieve it last night after ordering a pizza that Gemma and I never got to share. It was here now, reminding me of what I needed to do, of the promise I made as a child.
It was that promise to Claire that caused me to request this brochure in the first place. Above all else, who I was and what I was meant to do, was to keep Gemma safe.
But what did that even mean anymore?
I could feel my promise slipping, laboring like one sweaty hand grabbing onto another, struggling to keep myself from falling. The anticipation of losing her made everything feel so anxious, so urgent. I never felt more like a desperate fool, but desperate nonetheless. Even if I left right now and ran to Gemma, what would I say to her? How could I ever put into words all the things I wanted to say in a single breath?
Gemma, I’m so sorry it took me forever to say this out loud, but I couldn’t help it. The boy you grew up with still lives in me, along with the fear he felt the day he came to see you, but instead found your mother. All I wanted was you, but all I got was the antithesis to what I wanted to say:
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
And please let me say it again, because I could never get tired of saying it, and I could never get tired of the relief it gives my heart.
I want to run away, I want to find you and tell you how I feel, but I’m still there on that couch, waiting with Claire, my finger burning and my mind melting. I’m not sure if I could ever leave that place, especially now, since it’s been imprinted in my mind like a script.
All I ever wanted to do was keep you safe, and all I know, all I was ever told, was that my love for you—my truest and deepest love—was completely, fucking, nuclear.
I wish I could say that. I wish it were easy. The truth was, and what I could admit to myself, was that my life was the cumulation of tiny fires, all of which I would accept responsibility for, because, in reality, they were all my fault. Every piece of shattered glass, of webbing, and stone that plagued my life was there because of me and my fear. I knew that, I recognized that, but maybe there was still hope for change. I could still protect her, and I could start with the woman who we both shared in common: Claire.
I promised Gemma I’d take care of her mother, not once giving her details, but assuring her that she’d never have to return to Claire’s house again, or be bothered by her, so long as she wished; and that started with Claire’s unknowing admittance to Belmont Hills.
A knock at my door caught my attention, redirecting it to the arched brow of an unimpressed Lina.
“Mr. Jones,” she stuck her chin up, attempting to meet mine as I rose from my seat.
“Miss Castillo,” I replied, concealing the fact that I was completely dismayed. “You’re early.”
“You know me, always keen to see you.”
“A glutton for punishment?”
“That’d be an understatement.” She took a moment to stare out the window, admiring my inescapable view. “I’m sure you’re surprised to see me.”
“No. I understand why you’re here.”
“Good. Then you can agree that a boundary should be made. We don’t want things to get complicated.”
“For whom, exactly?” I leaned back in my large, leather chair, raising my ankle over my knee.
I ran my thumb along the Montblanc pen in my hand, testing its strength like a sturdy stress ball. Lina took a seat on one of the twin tweed chairs before my desk.
“You know for who. I’m not in the mood to play games,” she finally remarked.
“Neither am I, Lina. So if you have something to say, I suggest you speak up. And quickly.” I cocked my head, taking a long breath, inhaling her black plum perfume. She must have just sprayed it before coming in, covering the undeniable airport smell she carried.
“Grouchy?” she asked firmly.
“Assertive.”
“Maybe you’re not getting enough sleep. How was your night last night?”
“That’s personal.”
“Burdensome seems more appropriate,” she said convincingly. “You haven’t shaved. I like the stubble. Very refined. Can’t say I’ve ever seen you with it, though. Were you rushed to get in?”
“I was a lot things, Lina, none of which were patient.” I warned with a stern look.
“If it’s not the stubble, then it’s your eyes. They’re tired.”
“Wrinkled maybe? Much like your suit. Did you sleep in the car ride over?” I returned.
“I’ve had too many espressos for that.”
“That explains the jitters.” I pointed at her bobbing knee, but she immediately stopped as I called her out.
I smiled, but she didn’t.
“You’re getting dangerously close to harassing my client, Mr. Jones. Having the police scouring for Mr. Rivers is a perverse attempt to paint him negatively in the media.”
“I care very little about scouring for that criminal. Who I care for and who I was looking for was my roommate.” My attempted indifference in avoiding Gemma’s name was purposeful. I needed to appear detached, covering the slightest bit of weakness, which Gemma certainly caused. “Of course, I was surprised that someone with such a clean record could be caught in a compromising position, that is, until I found out who she was with.”
“Your roommate?” Lina paused, searching her head for a name she most likely knew. “Oh, you mean Gemma, correct?”
I bit my tongue, physically restraining the drop in my face. “Yes.”
“Gemma is a direct employee to Mr. Rivers. Their relationship is understandable.”
“His relationship is mixing with mine, and I fear it’s with ill intent.”
“Don’t confuse their relationship with your own paranoia, Mr. Jones. To be frank, a missing persons report seems a little dramatic and not like something the judge would like to hear about.”
“To be frank, you’re finding yourself a little too comfortable in my office, and given the potential emergency that she could have been in, I’m glad I did so.”
“How were the two of them together an emergency, exactly?” she asked, her fingers swiping back and forth, attempting to connect imaginary dots.
“Maybe not at that moment, but I prefer she stay away from the criminal who spends all his money in court. Don’t get me wrong, it’s for your client’s safety too, because trust me, Lina, if what happened to Natalie Brower happened to Gemma, not even Christ himself could save Alex from me.”
“Easy…” Lina lulled. “There are strict rules about that name, and about saying it out loud.”
“Strict is my dedication to Gemma’s safety. Don’t think that a judge won’t find it suspicious that your client is stalking by proxy.” I knew Alex couldn’t be using Gemma to get to me but spat it out regardless.
“I’m not convinced. If my client wants to file harassment charges, then I will be in full support of them doing so.”
“Harassment? On what grounds?”
“On your misuse of a missing persons report on her, of course.” Lina smiled wide, my face shifting into a scowl. A report on her? Gemma? What the fuck was she even saying?
Three timid knocks came at my door as Scarlett poked her head in. “Mr. Jones,” she announced quietly. “Miss Camilla Martinez is here for you.”
Fuck.
Of all the times for Mila to show up, it had to be now. Lina could easily find out who Mila was—hell, Mila herself was usually dying to tell others about what she did for a living. Dating the gossip columnist of New York’s biggest social magazine certainly put me in a compromising position, especially with Alex on the case. I couldn’t risk this.
“Please advise Miss Martinez that I’ll be finished shortly.” The look I gave Scarlett sent a message far clearer than my words. Not fucking now.
“Camilla Martinez?” Lina asked, lifting the single framed photo that sat on my desk.
Of course she had to look at it, the one image of me hugging Gemma at an arcade in Soho. We posed in front of a Frankenstein pinball machine; having finally placed third on the leader board for highest score. In it, my arm reached around her small shoulder, pulling her close to my chest as we both leaned towards our glowing initials.
We looked so happy in the photo, and in fact we were, but even then I was miserable at a distance, feeling like the potential bomb that could ruin her life. My thumb physically throbbed from the memory of Claire’s words and scolding match.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Lina looked at the picture, but I assumed she was referring to Mila.
“What an odd question,” I scoffed. “She’s a client. Unlike what you just assumed Gemma was to you. She has no legal ties to your firm. She would never file a harassment suit.”
Lina shook her head. “Actually, you’re wrong. Mr. Rivers has me on retainer, and in turn I have been hired to do the same for Miss Harrison.” She placed the photo back onto my desk. “And I take that very seriously. If she wishes to press harassment charges against you, I’d fully support that.”
My eye twitched at the audacity; the blatant ownership she placed over Gemma. Alex was using my own profession against me, attempting to take my spot even as legal counsel to the woman I loved.
“I want you to be very careful with your next words.” The deepness of my voice seemed to startle her, as her hand suddenly recoiled from her knee to her lap. I was Gemma’s Rattlesnake for a reason. “Any cross moves will be met with serious legal ramifications.”
“In the form of what, exactly?”
“Test me and find out,” I growled.
“You don’t have the resources or funds my client does.” Her rebuttal was weak, almost laughable, as if she had any idea of what I was capable of.
“What I have is far more exceeding than Alex Rivers. And if you don’t believe me, I challenge you to try. Because trust me, Lina, I’ll gladly take you down with him. People will see you, and all they’ll think of is me—the big, red, fucking X on your tepid legal career.”
“Go ahead and try,” her earlier confidence stammered itself, she was too eager to rebut.
“Oh, I will, in court. And once your head is spinning, once you realize how little it is you know about law, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“All you do is talk.”
“And soon, all you’ll do is listen, which is what you should be doing right now. Threaten me again, and you’ll have nothing…not even that yesterday’s-laundry-of-a-suit you’re wearing,” I attacked, a more viscous critique than what she was prepared for.
Her competitive spark fizzled out, her otherwise dimpled cheeks smoothed by a quick but painful frown. She looked down at my desk again, observing the Belmont Hills brochure sitting by my side. She studied it, absorbing its connection to me, and to the case at large.
“Belmont?” she questioned quietly.
“It’s not about Natalie Brower,” I responded, assuring her that even though Belmont Hills and Natalie were related, they weren’t in this particular instance.
“What else could it possibly be about?” she asked, not believing me, fearing any potential strategies I had in the case against Alex Rivers.
“It’s personal. I promise,” I assured, knowing the unfortunate truth that had shackled my life. When I made a promise, I didn’t break it. We stared for a moment, unsure of what to say next, and if this was indeed a chess match, then it started to feel like a draw.
Another knock appeared at the door.
“Parker!” Mila came in, carrying what appeared to be a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. She seemed disappointed, immediately seeing that I already had one on my desk. Scarlett rushed to her side, giving a look of both panic and remorse. “If they kept me waiting any longer your drink would’ve gone cold,” she winced, catching eyes with Lina before setting the coffee down. “Last night was just so crazy, and I figured you would need the pick me up.” She looked to Lina with a smile, “Hi, I’m—” She reached out, but I was quick to halt any exchange of titles.
