The Lawyer Read online

  The Lawyer

  Alice Bright

  Copyright © 2014 by Alice Bright

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  For Missy

  Even though you don't like the same books as me,

  I hope that you'll like this one.

  CHAPTER 1

  Falling in love is so much more complicated than it has to be.

  It’s the little things that really make it a challenge, like whether or not your best friend likes the guy, whether your mom approves of your sexual lifestyle, or what impact the relationship might have on your job. It shouldn't be that hard, though, and sometimes it seems simple. For a brief moment, when you’re together, none of that matters. None of the hard stuff, none of the realistic stuff, none of the painful stuff. For a moment, everything just seems to fade away and you're caught up in your own little world of perfection.

  At least, that’s how it was with Timothy.

  “Good morning, Sunshine.” His soft, southern drawl broke into my thoughts and melted my heart, the way that it always did. I propped myself up on my side and stared at him, lying shirtless in the bed with me.

  “’Morning, you.”

  “How’d you sleep?” He asked me, leaning in for a kiss.

  I broke away, laughing. “We didn’t do much sleeping!”

  “That’s the best part of it all.” He kissed me again.

  I breathed him in, feeling captivated by the moment. When you're in love, every moment feels like it lasts forever. Every moment feels perfect. Every moment feels special. Tim was my hero. Despite barely surviving on coffee shop wages, we managed to make our relationship work. It had been nearly a year now of excitement and fun. It had been nearly a year, but it felt like just a few days.

  "Noooo," I moaned as he climbed out of bed. It was too early to be getting up, too early to be thinking about making lattes for eight hours.

  Ignoring me, Tim climbed out of bed and gave me a soft kiss on the forehead before slipping into the adjoining bathroom.

  “Sheesh, we need a floor-warmer!” he called.

  “It’s called a rug!” I hollered back. I heard the shower turn on and I waited a few moments for the water to warm up, basking in the comfort of my extra-warm bed. I had too many blankets. I knew it, but they were so warm and sleeping in a sea of blankets was like living in a soft bird’s nest. I couldn’t part with a single quilt.

  After a moment, I headed into the bathroom and stripped out of my pajamas. I climbed into the shower where Timothy was already naked. The delicate drops of water rushing over his body illuminated his six-pack abs.

  Boy, was I jealous.

  While I certainly enjoyed the time I got to spend crawling across and kissing his abs, I glanced down at my own belly. I had a few extra pounds, probably thanks to too much coffee and not enough jogging, but Timothy didn’t seem to mind. If he noticed, he never said anything.

  “Come here, you.” He grabbed me, pulling me under the water with him.

  We had a few moments before I had to get ready for work, a few moments when I could be completely wrapped up in his arms, a few moments when the only thing in my entire world was his smile.

  My entire heart wished I could stay in those moments forever.

  But wishes don't always come true.

  **

  Going to work was never something I looked forward to.

  I loved the idea of working in a coffee shop, but the truth was that working at a coffee shop was really a challenge. Everyone had their own interpretation of what a “good” cup of coffee was, and most of the time it wasn’t something that was on the menu.

  I’d been working at the cafe for months now, long enough to know our menu inside and out and to know that most of the time, you just had to ask the customer what ingredients they wanted in their drink. It was usually easier than having them order specifically from the menu and then making modifications.

  Despite my early-morning lovemaking, I did get to work on time. Tim and I sometimes worked together on the weekends, but during the week we had opposite shifts due to our class schedules. I had evening classes and he had morning classes, so we usually only saw each other after 9:00pm and on Tuesdays: our shared day off.

  “About time you showed up,” my boss barked at me as I waded past a line of customers and slipped behind the counter. Sandy was not the kind of woman that you wanted to mess with. Still young at 32, she was the brains behind the entire shop. She knew everything there was to know about running a fantastic, top-of-the-line, competitive store, and she wasn't going to let a late employee ruin that for her.

  “Let me clock in,” I called to her as I punched my number into an unused cash register. Its only purpose, really, was for us to clock in and out as easily as possible. Once I was logged in, I hurriedly washed my hands and jumped into making mochas and lattes.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Bree,” I nodded to one of my favorite morning customers. Mrs. Bree was a crotchety old woman who always ordered two coffees and drank them by herself while she sat in the corner knitting. No one ever knew what she was working on, and she never offered an explanation, but she was here every morning at the same time and we all loved her for it.

  “Good morning, Elizabeth. You know what I want.” She laid exact change on the counter and headed to her favorite corner to wait. I carefully slipped the coins and cash into the register and nodded to my boss, who knew precisely what to start making.

  I took order after order, and finally the rush was over. I heaved a heavy sigh of relief and leaned against the back counter. My legs and feet were already sore, and I’d barely been here two hours. If nothing else, at least this job would help me lose weight since I never had a moment to sit down and relax. As soon as I started to, someone inevitably came in with a difficult order.

  Today was no exception.

  "Hi there, I’d like a….” I stared at the blue-eyed beauty as he rattled off his order.

  “You drinking alone today?” I asked as I punched in the 5-cup order.

  He laughed: a soft, genuine laugh. “Nah, not today. It’s for work.”

  “Ah,” I nodded. “$27.85.”

  “Sheesh,” he murmured as he handed me his credit card. “This better be some coffee.”

  “Oh, it will be. Don’t you worry.” I handed him his card and receipt and started to make the drinks. He was cute: tall, deep eyes, and he dressed nice. I chided myself, silently. You are in a relationship, I told myself, which was true. I was in a relationship, but I wasn’t married. I could still notice other guys.

  I finished the order and handed everything over to my new customer.

  “Thanks,” he said, tossing a folded bill on the counter. I wondered why he didn’t throw it in the tip jar, but as I grabbed it and unfolded the wad of cash, a business card with a hand-scrawled phone number on it fell out. The name on the card read Alex Smith. Alex, huh? He definitely looked like an Alex. Alexander. Lex. I slipped the money and the card into my back pocket, flattered that he thought I was cute enough to give a number, and I got back to work.

  **

  It was late when I finally got home and tumbled into bed. Timothy was sitting up, reading a book for his modern literature course.

  “I’m so glad you’re home,” he said, eagerly pushing the book to the floor. It landed with a thud and in just a moment, Timothy’s arms were around me. His kisses were soft and warm and quite welcome after my long day.

  “I’m g
lad, too,” I said, eagerly returning his embrace. "I missed you today." Glancing over at his book, I asked him, "How's My Life With Corpses?"

  "Pretty much what you'd expect," he said, nodding toward the cover. I traced my fingers over the spine of the book. I wondered what it would feel like to see your words in print. For a moment, I thought about the title of the book, what it would be like to live with people who weren't as alive as they thought that they were.

  "It looks good," I told him.

  "Not as good as you."

  He didn't open the book again for the rest of the night.

  CHAPTER 2

  The alarm blared all too loudly the next morning. My stomach growled and I realized, as I slipped out of bed and groggily rubbed my eyes, that I had forgotten to eat dinner the day before. I tumbled into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. I could hear Timothy in the shower, but as much as I wanted to join him, I needed to wake up first.

  The coffee was done in record time and I poured myself a steaming cup. While I was an excellent barista at work, I was lazy with my coffee at home. I had a cheap, $8.00 coffee pot that made drinkable coffee and I was fine with that. Someday I dreamed of owning an actual espresso maker, but times were tough and unfortunately, it just wasn’t in the budget, at least for now.

  Once I had some caffeine in my system, I made a pan of scrambled eggs and a few pieces of toast. When Timothy came down the hall, I glanced up with a smile.

  “I made you some breakfast,” I said.

  “Mmm, thanks.” He slipped into a chair. He was only wearing a towel and water droplets still glistened on his abs as he bit into a piece of toast.

  “Hey,” he asked me, not looking up from his toast. “Who’s Alex?”

  “What?” I asked absentmindedly, sprinkling parmesan cheese on the eggs.

  “Alex. Who is he?” Timothy held up the business card from the day before.

  “Where’d you find that?” Was he going through my things? Though I had no reason to be defensive, I suddenly felt like my privacy was invaded. It was something that Tim had never done before, and I'd certainly never given him a reason to doubt my loyalty or my faithfulness.

  “It was on the floor.” Ah. It must have fallen out of my pocket.

  “He came into the shop yesterday and left that with my tip," I told him, grabbing the card and glancing at it briefly.

  “Did he offer you a job or something?” Tim took a bite of his food. Was that a hint of jealousy I detected? I couldn't help but wonder if he was upset that I had spoken with another man. Tim worked at the same place that I did, so he knew that interacting with customers came with the job. I wondered why he had suddenly become so sensitive and questioning.

  “No, although I wouldn’t complain if he did want to hire me. He’d probably pay more than Sandy does.”

  Timothy laughed and finished eating. I sighed with relief that the tension seemed to be gone. It was true, after all: our boss paid minimum wage but worked us maximum hours. Every employee at the shop was always tired. Making drinks was not only physically exhausting from all of the running around, but also emotionally exhausting, as well. People got really irritated and picky when it came to their drinks. If you didn’t do something just right, it would turn into a nightmare of a day. They’d want to speak to a manager, demand a refund, and you’d sometimes get a letter in your file. The drama that came from working at a coffee shop was not something I’d be sad to miss.

  “I could call him, I guess.” I said, taking a bite of the eggs. “But I don’t know if he was hitting on me or interested in my fabulous mocha-making skills.”

  Timothy smiled over his eggs. “You could always give him a call. It wouldn’t hurt.” Then he glanced at me quite seriously and added, “You know I trust you, right?”

  “I know.”

  ***

  Pouring coffee shouldn't have been so difficult. Making people happy, being able to create a great beverage, and putting a smile on someone's face shouldn't have been something that I had to fight for, yet it was. I had been on my feet for six hours when a customer yelled at me for getting his drink wrong. The only problem was that I hadn't gotten his drink wrong at all: he had ordered the incorrect beverage and his wife had gotten upset, so he yelled at me.

  "I'm terribly sorry about the mistake, Sir, but you did order a hot mocha."

  "You should have known what I meant! I needed a mocha frappe. You need to remake this immediately."

  I sighed. "I'm sorry, Sir, but I can't just remake a drink that you didn't order. You've already tasted the hot mocha and this was what you ordered. you'll need to go back to the register and order a new drink, pay for it, and then I can make it."

  "This is unacceptable," the man bellowed. "What happened to 'the customer is always right'? I want to talk to your manager!"

  Sandy scurried over. I was trying to stay calm as the man droned on and on about customer service and how he was going to have us all fired and how he would never visit our shop again. Sandy apologized again and again before thrusting some free gift coupons in the man's hands, along with a full refund. Seemingly satisfied, he shot me a smug glance before he and his fat wife waddled out the door.

  "Next time," Sandy told me, "just remake the drink and spit in his coffee."

  I didn't know how much more of this I could take.

  I was going to college to become a writer. It was really all I had ever dreamed about doing. And writers worked at coffee shops, right? Writers went to class, they worked in artsy buildings, and they enjoyed themselves. They found inspiration everywhere. Why was it, then, that I just couldn't? Why was it that working as a barista made me more miserable than I'd ever felt before? Why was it that working alongside college dropouts and Sandy just wasn't satisfying?

  I ran my fingers along the business card in my pocket. I had been thinking about calling Alex for nearly a week now. Part of me wondered if it was too late, if he would even remember who I was. The other part of me wondered if I could beg him to hire me at his law firm. Maybe he didn't a legal writer who could also make sure that he had a great cup of coffee every morning. Maybe he needed me. Or maybe, I thought with a sigh as another customer walked through the door, maybe I needed him.

  ***

  "Sounds like you've already made up your mind," Molly told me as I explained the situation. For the last year, we'd had nearly identical schedules on campus. Molly was everything I wasn't, and everything I wanted to be.

  "I haven't, not yet," I told her, doodling on my notebook. The commons area of the student center was bustling with students preparing for midterms, getting coffee before class, and hanging out with friends.

  "I can't tell you what to do," Molly told me thoughtfully, "but I think that if this is a good opportunity, if it will look good on your resume, and if it will pay better, you really don't have anything to lose by applying. It's just a phone call, Sweetie. It's just one application. The worst thing that could happen is that this guys says, "No, I don't want to hire you. I just wanted to date you," and then you go back to the way things were. Nothing to lose."

  I envied the way that Molly viewed the world sometime. She was religious, and I wondered if that was where so much of her self-assuredness came from. She wasn't especially pretty or beautiful, but she was cute and funny and interesting, and she was nice to everyone.

  "It's just-" I paused for a moment, trying to think about how to pinpoint what my problem was, exactly, with quitting Lone Cup Cafe. It had been my first serious job, okay, but it was more than that. It was how I'd met Tim, how I'd fallen in love, how I'd found someone who really seemed to understand me.

  "You're scared," Molly said succinctly. I nodded. "There's nothing wrong with you, you know. It's normal to be scared. Change is scary. That doesn't mean that it's not a risk worth taking, though." She tapped the card that was sitting in the center of the table. "Call him. What have you got to lose?"

  ***

  I held Alex’s card in my hand as I listened to the pho
ne ring. Was I really doing this? Was I really calling a complete stranger out of the blue to see what he wanted? And what if I didn’t like whatever it was that he wanted? Would I make a complete fool of myself? Would I-

  Before I could finish my though, I heard a “click” and a crisp, shrill voice answered the phone.

  “Hello, Smith and Smith, Attorneys at Law. How may I direct your call?”

  “Um, hi.” I was suddenly even more nervous. The butterflies in my stomach felt more like dragons. “I’m calling for Alex...Mr. Smith?”

  “Which one, Sweetie?”

  “Um, the younger one. Brown hair, blue eyes. Probably about 25.”

  “And who may I say is calling?”

  “This is Elizabeth from the coffee shop. He gave me his card and –“

  “Please hold.”

  The elevator music that suddenly filled my ear was too much to handle. I wanted to scream. Was this going to take a long time? I glanced at my watch. I had half an hour before I had to be at my class. Thankfully, I didn’t have to work today, but still. Was this how I wanted to spend my morning? Chasing after a stranger? Should I just hang up? Was I making a huge fool of myself?

  “Hello, Elizabeth.” Alex’s warm voice filled the phone and I felt shivers rush down my body. “I was hoping you’d call.”

  “Um, hi.” I said, not sure what to say. “Yeah, I got your card that you left me.”

  “I can see that,” he said. “What made you decide to call me?”

  I hadn't been expecting him to put me on the spot like that. Wasn't it his job to let me know why he had left his number for me? “I um, uh, well, I wasn’t sure exactly why you left the card.”

  Alex laughed loudly for a moment, then caught his breath. “Ah, a pretty girl like yourself? Not sure of why a man should want her to call him? Elizabeth, my dear, I’m surprised.”

  I breathed deeply. I suddenly felt very aroused and very aware of the fact that I had Alex’s full attention. I was also very aware of the fact that I liked this attention and that I liked the way he made me feel.