Sidebarred: A Legal Briefs Novella(16)
But the image of six sweet, smiling faces who need me, holds me back, gives me the strength to walk out the door, and leave Gavin Debralty bruised but not broken.
****
I use the walk from the museum to the law firm to pull my shit together. By the time I walk into the conference room for our weekly meeting, I assume I look normal again.
And . . . I’d be wrong about that.
Stanton, Sofia, and Brent stare at me with wide eyes as I sit down. For several long seconds, no one speaks. Then Stanton ventures, “You all right, man?”
I glare at the file on the table in front of me. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Sofia tucks her long dark hair behind one ear. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look kind of . . . murderous, Jake.”
“That makes sense.” I grind my jaw. “Almost just killed a guy. I didn’t—but I could have.”
Brent’s eyebrows lift high. “Well, there’s something you don’t hear every day—even in this business.”
Stanton leans forward. “Maybe you should elaborate . . . just in case.”
That’s probably a good idea.
After I tell them the whole story, Brent and Stanton are firmly on my side. They get it.
Sofia? Not so much.
“Wait a second. You quit her job for her? And you think Chelsea is going to be okay with that?”
In retrospect—probably not. And yet, I can’t make myself give even a single f*ck.
Because I’m pissed that she didn’t tell me the cocksucker she works for was making her uncomfortable. That she’s likely been dealing with his looks and suggestions—and Christ that better be all she’s been dealing with—on her own.
“What other choice did he have, Soph?” Stanton asks. “I sure as shit wouldn’t want you working for a dickhead like that.”
Sofia’s eyes narrow—because she is woman, and she’s never been shy with the roaring.
“Why does Chelsea have to leave a job she loves and the dickhead gets to stay?”
Brent adds his two cents. “She’s got a point, Jake. I learned the hard way not to mess with my girl’s career—remember? On the other hand, Chelsea will be going on maternity leave soon.”
“And she had the option of going back after the baby’s born,” Sofia counters. “But now that option is gone.”
On that note, my phone alarm chirps. Because my ass needs to be in court in twenty minutes.
On the way over, Sofia’s comments start to sink in and I decide to at least give Chelsea a heads-up about what I’ve done. I try to call her, but she doesn’t pick up. If Gavin has half a brain cell, he’ll do what I told him . . . and Chelsea and I will be discussing the aftermath face-to-face.
****
Court adjourns early, so I make it home by four. Early enough to send home the babysitter, who’s usually there when the kids get off the bus. Chelsea typically works until six on Wednesdays, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised that she’s not home earlier today.
There’s a din of chatter around the dining room table as the kids bustle around, simultaneously unpacking backpacks, talking about homework, asking to go to friends’ houses, wondering what’s for dinner, and seeking permission to have a snack. I sit in a chair at the end of the table, legs stretched out, arms folded—eyes glued to the doorway.
Until I hear the front door slam open with a meaningful bang.
And my gorgeous, pregnant wife appears, pinning me down with the blue f*cking fire in her eyes.
She breathes out hard through her nose “We need to talk. Outside. Now.”
The kids all freeze midmotion. In any other case, it’d be funny—the way their attention is instantly captured.
“We sure do,” is my simple reply.
Raymond starts to whistle the Darth Vader theme from Star Wars.
As I stand and follow Chelsea toward the kitchen, Rosaleen sings, “Someone’s in trouble.”
“And for once, it’s not me,” Rory points out. “Take note, people.”
****
Through the kitchen and out the back door onto the patio we go. As soon as the door is shut, Chelsea whips around, waving an opened envelope at me.
“What the hell is this? And why did Gavin inform me—through his closed office door, I might add—that you’d given him my resignation?”
I cross my arms. “I’m more interested in hearing about the sexual harassment you’ve been silently suffering for God knows how long and why the hell you didn’t clue me in on it.”
Now she crosses her arms and cocks a hip. “I like my job, Jake—it wasn’t that bad—and I knew you’d make a big deal about it.”
I keep a tight rein on my voice—and my temper—though I gotta say, it’s a battle.
“Hearing that cocksucker tell your coworker how he couldn’t wait for you to blow him sounded like a pretty f*cking big deal to me. Guess I’m funny like that.”
She blinks up at me. “He said that?”
My nod is quick and sharp. “And his choice of words wasn’t nearly as nice.” I point my finger. “You should’ve told me you were dealing with that.”
“I was handling it!”
Those four words push me right to the edge. “You obviously weren’t handling it, since the scumbag was still spewing shit about you. That won’t be a problem anymore.”