And there was the truth of it. Even if he came with references, there was something about Ashton which was dangerous. Perhaps it was the brazen way he stalked her, laying his hands upon the more forbidden zones of her body without requesting or receiving her permission to do so. Maybe it was the feral spiky hair, the goatee, or the wicked dissimilarity of his eyes. Whatever the characteristic that made Sarah feel like she wanted to run to him and from him simultaneously, it was something which the good Samaritan who lifted her wrap outside her building did not possess. It was further sensory evidence she had settled for Tim, played it safe. He may have been all things attractive but yet nothing which normally attracted her.
“Are you paying any attention to me?” Laney demanded.
Sarah sighed, hoping that at 35 she’d won freedom from these kinds of discussions. “I wouldn’t have been as careless.”
Softening, Laney’s attitude switched from protective parent to giddy girlfriend, “So you liked it then, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“And Ashton?”
“What about him?”
“Do you want me to set you guys up?”
Sarah chuckled. “I think I can handle that on my own. I was thinking something subtle. Me, you lunch, accidentally bumping into him while I’m at your building.”
“Not a problem,” Laney confirmed. “He takes a smoke break at 12:30 everyday when he leaves for lunch. I suppose I could take a late lunch one day next week.”
“Well if it won’t throw you off too much.”
“For you, I’ll make the sacrifice.” There was a moment’s pause. “He sure is good looking isn’t he?”
“I don’t judge men on their physical appearances. Woman don’t like being judged that way so as a woman, I try not to judge others.”
“You’re right, he’s nothing special...for a god! Sarah, seriously, are you going to tell me you don’t pick up on the stench of sexuality that permeates from him?”
“The Harlequin world of romancers could have used all that poetic wording, but you wasted that brilliant mind of yours becoming an engineer. It saddens me.”
“I calls ‘em as I sees ‘em.”
Sarah’s neck twinged like a prairie dog picking up a rattlesnake in the sand. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘I call them as I see them.’ It’s a common enough expression. Surely not the first you’ve heard of it?”
“No, I just couldn’t hear you over the sirens.”
Laney rushed to her window. “Jesus not a fire I hope.”
“No, ambulance.”
“So lunch, Monday, 12:30, my building. I’ll meet you in the designated smoking area.”
‘Of course he’s a smoker,’ she thought agreeing to the plan her friend had concocted. She was perpetually attracted to men who she had nothing in common with.
***** ***** *****
It was another of her imbedded defense mechanisms. Pick the guy you can’t have, making not getting him or losing him less painful. It had been that way for her since high school, setting her sights on some impossibly bad boy who had no interest in a straight laced honor student who spent her free time in drama club. Occasionally one of the objects of her affections would ask her out hoping to find a wolf beneath her sheep’s clothing, but glumly disappointed when they found otherwise, there were no repeat performances.
In college she’d had only a boyfriend or two prior to meeting Tim and they were everything he wasn’t. The first, an art student whose parents were putting him through college. Very dark, very ketch, very I’ll never be happy so why try. They’d dated for three weeks before Sarah grew bored of evenings at home barely speaking, listening for the world to call to them and trendy beatnik clubs filled with snapping poets and black velvet.
Then there was Larry, only he insisted upon being called Law, because he ‘brought justice to anyone who crossed him.’ He was in college because his parents refused to allow him to drop out. So he’d learned to make a profession of it. Still a sophomore at 22, he drove around town on his Harley, leather jacket, dark glasses, all cliché. When it came down to it, the same thing that attracted her to him in the first place was what made her call it quits a little more than a month later.
Serge came from money. He didn’t worry about classes because he knew his surname would get him a passing grade in almost any course. Dropping several hundred a night was no problem for him, in fact he once commented that Sarah was a cheap date when the cost of their activities on a particular evening failed to exceed his minimum two hundred dollar mark. Those three months Sarah learned how to drink without getting a hangover, tasted more kinds of food than she had in her last three tours of the Taste of Chicago and she handed her virginity over to an experienced but dissatisfying lover who actually made I statements during sex.
Then there was Tim. Something completely different. All sports coats and leather shoes, a briefcase rather than a knapsack, wire rim glasses, good manners, perfect English. Not American, the honest to God Queen’s English, accent and everything. Sarah was a sucker for a well spoken man and despite every other revolting goodness about him, he had taught her the most. He had taught her that love and being in love were not the same. That the feeling of loving someone was not enough to build a marriage on and, he had shown her that just when you think you can’t, you probably could, if you reached down deep, you would succeed at whatever it was you needed to do to survive.
Ashton wasn’t quite like the others though. Certainly not like Tim. Smooth like Serge, though Sarah suspected that he might have something to back up the sensuality his presence gave off. As dangerous as Law without the lack of ambition. As dark as that art student, whose name was trifling to her now, only more intriguing than repelling. Laney wasn’t wrong when she called him good looking, and he knew it. Something about him was cocky and arrogant, normally Sarah found men like that snobbish, but Ashton struck a nice balance with it. He intrigued her and no man had done that for a very long time.
***** ***** *****
Monday morning there was a spring in Sarah’s step as she swung her hips to the music pumping into her ears through the buds from the mp3 player. It was quite the unconscious swing, but not unnoticed. He watched her. Every weekday, the same time, he waited in the shadows just off to the side of the building’s main entrance. Enamored by her. Afraid to look away for fear he would miss a step, a toss of her hair, a half smile no one else noticed. It was her gait he recognized first, letting his eyes run up the length of her legs, noting the way her garments seemed to perpetually accent her behind, the fitted waist of her jackets, the polished peach of her skin and the bouncing locks of her raven hair. When she moved, angels sang to him. What it was about her, he couldn’t say exactly, but he knew he had to do something extraordinary if he was to get her attention, something no man in her history had ever done.
***** ***** *****
“Nettie,” Sarah said leaning over the wall of her secretary’s cubicle, “can you pop in for a minute?”
“Yes Sarah.” She’d grown comfortable, at last, with addressing her boss in a less formal manner. By the time her briefcase was in place and her laptop up and running, Nettie returned with a steaming cup of coffee, exactly as Sarah enjoyed it most. Her secretary set the cup down on a coaster on the desk and sat poised, steno pad balanced on one knee, pen at the ready in her hand. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to reestablish some connections with some of my old clients, the one’s I haven’t seen in awhile. Now,” Sarah brought up the calendar on her laptop. From what I can tell, that means a lunch with the Gallagher’s…Tavern on the Rush…they’re late starters, better make it for one o’clock. See if they’re available next Monday. It also means Dunhoff with the contractor’s firm. He’ll give you the line about being too busy to meet during the day. Lout. Insists on having drinks.” A moment of brilliance hit her. “N9ne! Tell him I want to meet at N9ne and for drinks and caviar, any night but Friday.”
Watching her boss eye the screen, she asked, “Anyone else?”
“I’m sure there are. I’ve been wretched with all this pd shit for awhile now.”
“I could compile a list of everyone you’ve done repeat work for who you haven’t contacted in more than three months,” Nettie offered.
Sarah’s brows popped up, “Excellent idea. If it’s not too difficult, could you cross check them with the conflicts and make sure they’re not being romanced by someone else now. The last thing I need to do is step on toes.”
“No trouble at all. I’ll have everything for you by the time you get back from your lunch with Ms. Cass. She’s called twice today to remind you not to arrive until 12:30.”
“That girl has an unhealthy obsession with time.”
It was a nervous smile that contorted her boss’s face as Nettie rose and slipped out the door to return to her work. Sarah flipped through her email. Something from Toby, she’d read that later. A handful of ads and spam, delete, delete, delete. An associate looking for work. He’d have to keep looking. Children’s Services, they needed representation in a custody case. Sarah dialed her contact. The phone rang endlessly as it often did there. While she waited, her eyes scanned the rest of the email. Rowan Farthingale, what on earth could Toby’s fiancé want with her?
“Children and Youth Services this is Eldora. How may I direct your call?”
“Eldora,” Sarah said sweetly. “It’s Ms. Williams from Sidley. How are you?”
“Fine Ms. Williams, fine.” Years ago when Eldora was just another battered victim of a husband’s heavy hand, Sarah helped her and her daughter to get free of him, beginning by relocating him to county jail so the girls could relocate themselves somewhere he couldn’t lay a finger on either of them. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you. I think of you every day, every day. Lily graduates this month. My baby, graduating high school. Makes a mother proud and a body old.” She chuckled.
“Lily’s graduating. Where do the years go?” Sarah asked. “Please do wish her my best.” Quickly she emailed Nettie asking if she would remind her to get a card and send it to the center in honor of the girl’s milestone.
“I will Ms. Williams, I certainly will. Did you need to speak with Miss Trish?”
“Yes please, Eldora.”
“One moment,” the kindly receptionist offered.
“Oh Eldora,” Sarah said quickly.
“Yes Ms. Williams?”
“I’m going to be out that way to help Miss Trish very soon. I’d like to take you and Lily to dinner, if that’s alright with you.”
“I’ll do you one better Ms. Williams. When you’re out here, you can come to our place and I’ll make you dinner. It’d be our pleasure to have you and fatten you up some. I’m surprised you don’t fly away in the wind as little as you are.”
Sarah chuckled, “I can’t say no to that. It’s a date then.”
“Yes ma’am, I’ll get you Miss Trish then. You take care now.”
“Thank you Eldora.”
Wearing a big smile, Sarah glanced back at the computer when Nettie’s reply popped up in the lower right corner of the screen. She double clicked the notice revealing the usual ‘will do’ reply. Deleting that message brought up a list of other unopened items. Rowan’s email drew her eye again.
“Sarah?”
“Trish, good to hear your voice, but bad to hear from you I’m sure.”
“Oh Sarah, I wish I could call you with good news every now and again, but I’m kept so busy by what goes on here I only seem to manage to call when something’s going wrong.” Her voice shook, not like she was crying, but like she could at any moment.
Comforting the woman on the other end of the phone, Sarah offered, “Don’t worry about it. I’m an attorney, I’m used to only hearing from people when it’s not good news. Now tell me what’s happened.”
“We’ve been helping this woman with a custody case for about a month now. She claims the husband was abusive to the child, an infant boy, but he’s got no bruises, no medical history. But you can’t just dismiss something like that.” Sarah scrawled notes on a yellow legal pad all the while dropping syllables of recognition into the receiver. A few ‘uh-huh’s, a couple of ‘I see’s. “She’s just a kid herself, eighteen, married straight out of high school while she was six months pregnant. I hate to say what I think. It may not be true, but…”
“Just tell me what you think Trish. Between you and me, off the record.”
“Well I’m not meaning to criticize, I mean I would do anything in this world to hold onto my baby…”
The shaking voice, the stuttered words, all led Sarah to ask cautiously, “What is it you think this woman did?”
“He kept threatening to sue her for custody, claiming she wasn’t mentally ready to handle being a mother and since he was older than her, a lot older. He told her he’d have no problem getting custody. She was a wreck. Just after that we got this report. We investigated her, she had the basics, maybe not the best of everything, but enough. Her intentions were good. That’s when she started telling us he abused the baby. We promised to help her get legal representation, but I feel like such a jerk to even think this, but…”
“You think she’s lying, don’t you?”
“I do, God forgive me, but I do and I feel terrible putting you in this position, but I didn’t know who else to call.” The tears she’d been fighting back through the whole call broke free now.
“It’s alright,” Sarah tried to ease her. “I’ll meet with this girl. I’ll indicate that lying to me would be ill advised, considered perjury in court, may even cost her the child she wants so fiercely to hold on to. It’s out of your hands now.”
Trish wailed, “That’s just it Sarah. It’s not. Courts make the wrong decisions about custody all the time. I see it every day. Children awarded to parents who play Mary Poppins in court only to become mommy dearest at home. The children wind up here again, bruised, broken, in body and in spirit. The ones that don’t end up at the morgue Sarah. It just happened last week. The courts gave him back to his mother, he was three. She left him outside, unsupervised while she was inside getting high on Lord knows what. He hung himself Sarah, in a rope swing in the backyard. His name was Richard. I helped him on with his coat when she came for him. He hugged me goodbye and I handed her his things, she smiled and I was happy. I was happy to see him go home with his mother.” Whatever else she meant to say grew incoherent at that point.
Plucking a tissue from the box on her desk, Sarah wiped at her own running eyes. “I’m sorry Trish, but you can’t blame yourself.”
Taking a deep breath, she replied, “I know. I do, I really do, but I can’t help feeling sometimes like they’re my own when I send them out that door. I mean I’ve spent so much time with them, providing for them. I love them sometimes as much as I love my own son and when I think about these kids, especially Richard, he was my grandson’s age and it’s so unthinkable, so damned unfair.”
“It’s not fair Trish. It’s not. But let me handle this one, okay. Try and take it easy, maybe take some time off to go and visit your son. It might do you some good.”
“You’re right. You’re always right.”
“You know you can always call me right? Even when it doesn’t have to do with a case.”
“I couldn’t impose.”
“It’s no imposition.” She gave Trish her home phone and her cell. No one should have to go through those kinds of things alone. “Now this girl, give me her contact information so I can set up a meeting and I’m serious, let me handle this.”
Trish agreed. She was too worn out from what happened with Richard to put up much of an argument. “I’ll fax you her file. That’ll have everything in it and thanks Sarah, for everything.”
“You’re welcome.” Nettie was in her doorway looking anxious. “Take care of yourself,” she remind Trish as she hung up the phone. “What is it?
“Attorney Irmscher called for you, he said, ‘I don’t care what she’s doing, tell her I want her in my office in five minutes.”
Already out from behind her desk and straightening her suit Sarah asked, “Did he say why?”
“No he didn’t, but you know how his ears get really red when he’s angry?”
“Are we talking that’d make a nice shade of lip stick or fire engine?”
“Fire engine…four alarm.”
“Jesus,” Nettie handed her the pad and pen she’d been using and Sarah walked swiftly and professionally to her boss’s office. “My secretary said you wanted to see me.”
“Shut the door and sit down.” He was staring out the window into the horizon. He didn’t turn to look at her, only waited until he heard the door close and then began in a gruff tone to criticize her for the fifth time this month. “I know when you were an intern it was important for you to be well liked, when you became an associate, you had to win over the partners and I was always impressed with your personal touches Sarah. I liked that you did charity work, you came off as just one of the guys here at the office, but you’re a partner now and the things are different. You’re setting precedence for the others.”
“Meaning?” she asked him defensively.
Falling into his high back leather chair and plopping his chins over the bridge of knuckles across the back of his left hand he questioned, “Do you know what my secretary referred to me as this morning?” She didn’t assume, only waited for him to inform her. “Bill…Not Mr., not attorney, not sir, Bill. I don’t even go by Bill in my private life. And do you know why?” Sarah shook her head innocently. “Because the girls in the pool are all talking about Nettie and how her boss insists she call her by her first name. Now some of the associates are opting for that as well.”
‘This was what he called her in here for,’ she thought as she set her notepad aside. “Nettie was always so nervous around me before I cut the tension. Her work was standard at best, now she’s a whiz. I don’t have to correct her letters, my calendar’s impeccable. She’s working on practice development meetings for me right now. I don’t care what she calls me as long as my work’s getting done.” The more she spoke the more she found him ridiculous. Wasn’t he the one questioning her dedication only last week. Hadn’t he said, ‘whatever it takes to get the job done Williams, whatever it takes’?
“Sir, not meaning to be disrespectful, but last week when you called me in here, you said ‘whatever it takes to get the job done,’ well Nettie does the job better when she’s not so nervous she can barely stand in my office without her knees clapping. Further more, if you don’t mind me saying, but have you ever considered why every two weeks you’re getting a new secretary from the pool and not a permanent one?”
“I do mind,” he said. When he looked away she saw his ears, four alarm for sure. “This is a professional office and I will not have secretaries milling about addressing me as if I’m their bridge partner.”
“And I respect your choice,” Sarah said. “But it works for me and Nettie, so please respect my choice to allow my secretary to refer to me as she pleases.”
“She works for you!”
“She works with me.”
“Sarah, you either put her straight or I will.”
His ultimatum left her little choice, Nettie would take it better coming from her. Sarah stormed out of his office as quickly as she had stormed in. Back at her secretary’s desk she paused. “What is it Sarah?”
“Nettie I need to … um … I need to talk to you about something.” She felt like a child, picking her fingernail and nudging the partition with her toe.
Finishing up the line she was typing, Nettie looked up, all smiles, “Shoot.”
Irmscher was on his way down the hall, no doubt come to make sure she followed through with his orders. “This is a law firm Nettie, a place where people have come to expect formality and professionalism. We’ve all got to deliver it, every time. Now I know I had asked you to call me Sarah.” Irmscher was there, lurking around the bend, just out of Nettie’s sight, the coward. “I was wrong to do that,” Sarah pressed on, but he looked so happy, in the shadows, so content, so victorious. “From now on Nettie I want you to refer to me solely by terms of endearment.” That threw old Bill for a loop she guessed, focusing only on Nettie as she went on. “You know, hun, sweetie, dear, babe, whatever strikes your fancy. And when I get a call from my buddy Bill I want you to peek over your cubicle wall and shout, hey, you, Bill’s on the phone and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing because I know how important Bill is.”
The door to her office slammed shut. She could hear Irmscher in the hall, the heavy trod of his feet. “What do you think you’re doing?” he barked when he threw open her door.
“Bill,” she said cocking her head and jacking her feet up to the corner of her desk, “here’s the way I look at it. You can waste more billable time taking this to the committee and having me written up for insubordination, but the income I bring into this firm pretty much guarantees I won’t be fired, or you could deal with the fact that your secretary calls you Bill. I’ve been to the pool and I can tell you from personal experience, they call you a hell of a lot worse than that.”
His finger hung in the air like a levitating pork sausage as his chins stacked up supporting his gapping jaw. Sarah sat coolly, flipping her hands behind her head, daring him to spit out whatever outrageous thing he might, but a blathering collection of vowel sounds cascaded from his open mouth along with a light mist. Frustrated he left. Nettie ran in as soon as he was out of sight.
“What was that all about?”
“Change Nettie, it would seem that Bill has a problem with change.” They both enjoyed a hearty laugh.
***** ***** *****
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ Sarah echoed in her head as she dodged bodies left and right in her hurry to get to Laney’s building. “You’re late,” she heard Laney say when she finally got there.
“It’s 12:28,” she said looking at her watch.
“I know, I’m just so used to saying that to you.” Sarah narrowed her eyes. “Now he’ll come out that door any second, so face me and act natural. Tell me how your day was.”
“My day, you wouldn’t even believe my day if I told you.”
“I’ll believe it even less if you don’t.”
“You make a valid argument,” Sarah engrossed Laney with the stories of Trish and Eldora, of Irmscher’s outburst all while Laney took long drags on her cigarette. Jealous of the way she did it so elegantly without seeming trashy or manish, Sarah couldn’t resist watching her, studying her. “Then there was this email from Rowan.”
“You’re brother’s fiancé? What did it say?”
She said half day dreaming. “Damn I never read it.”
“He’s here,” Laney squeaked, “act natural.”
“Give me a cigarette.”
“What?”
“You heard me, give me a cigarette.”
“You don’t smoke.”
“And I’m not about to start,” Sarah wagged her hand until Laney placed one ultra light 100 in her palm.
“Oh yeah, this is natural,” she said as her friend pinched it between her fingers like a joint and held it to her lips. Laney lit the end. “Well you’ve got to inhale a little bit.”
Sarah did her best, but even the one quick puff landed her hacking. Water came into her eyes as she did her best to suppress the cough. Examining Laney’s delicate fingers and mimicking her grip on the cigarette she was holding, Sarah continued their small talk. She asked her friend if the male specimen in question was watching. In fact, he was not, not that Laney could tell anyway. “Why not just go over and talk to him?”
“Are you nuts? I don’t even know him,” Sarah protested.
Laney took a long smooth drag on her cigarette, “Yet he performed your monthly breast exam the other night?”
Eye’s widening, Sarah swatted at her friend before placing the ultra slim 100 between her lips and pulled out a mouthful of smoke until her cheeks bulged like a hungry chipmunk, held it until her face was green, then expelled it full into Laney’s face in one great puff. Laney waved her hand. “Just hold the damned thing. Now explain to me, why you can’t just go over there and say hello.”
“It’s his job. I gave off all the signals. It’s up to him to interpret them and make the next move.”
“Oh, he’s moving alright,” Laney told her. Beginning to straighten her clothes and fluff her hair, Sarah was grossly disappointed when her friend clarified, “He’s going back in. Really Sarah, what’s with going all Sadie Hawkins? It’s the twenty-first century woman, we can club them and drag them back to the cave now.”
“I know, I know,” Sarah whined, snuffing out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray, “but I’m a traditionalist.”
Butting her smoke too, Laney offered some advice, “Well Ashton is not. He’s into assertive women you dolt, that’s why he was attracted to you the other night. If this is really what you want, you’ve got to loosen up a little bit.”
***** ***** *****
Her fingers drummed over the mouse as she looked at it one last time. Rowan Farthingale. There was no subject line, nothing to hint at what might lie inside, but she’d successfully managed to ignore the message for a day and half. It was time. Pensively she double clicked the left mouse button and the message enlarged before her on the screen.
My dear soon to be sister - in - law:
I hope this isn’t too inconvenient a request; however, the day of our wedding is fast approaching and as is so often the case in matters like these, the brunt of planning the event has fallen to me. Nothing against your brother. He is a kind and thoughtful man who wants nothing more than for me to have everything I desire most, hence his turning over everything to me.
Alas I’ve learned a nervous bride should never be given sole dominion over her own wedding. It is my sincere hope you would have a small amount of time to contribute to the planning of the festivities. I already have the most important things taken care of. We have the location, the photographer, a cater and an officiant, but I wanted to arrange a fairytale theme for a fairytale moment and Toby insists you are the expert in that department.
Please call me at your earliest convenience, but I beg you, do not leave any messages on our home phone. I’d like to be able to surprise your brother…some. It would be best, if you don’t mind, to ring my cell at 708-555-0927.
I anxiously await your call.
Rowan
“Is she joking?” Sarah asked no one out loud. “Help her plan her fairytale wedding, hmpf! I barely know this woman and she wants me to…” Then it hit her. It wasn’t that she’d be doing something for Rowan so much as she’d be doing something for her brother and despite how she normally treated him, Sarah knew Toby deserved better from her. This wedding might be Sarah’s last chance to do something sweet for him. Begrudgingly she lifted the receiver of her phone and dialed the number for Rowan’s cell.
“Hello?”
“Rowan?”
“Yes.”
“Rowan, it’s Sarah, Toby’s sister?” Her head fell fast toward her hand at the amount of insanity which came across with that introduction. “Listen I’ve been really busy with work, but I’d like to,” she swallowed hard, “help you plan the wedding.” Silence on the other end. “If that’s still what you want?”
Still silence. Sarah glanced at the phone display. Their connection was still intact, she hadn’t bumped any of the conference or hold buttons. Then she heard something. It sounded like a puppy, a tiny whimpering not being done directly into the phone, but certainly coming from the other end. Hunkering down Sarah listened intently to the receiver when Rowan finally burst through with enough force to shatter an eardrum. “Oh Sarah,” her voice quaked. “You’ve made me so happy. I’d begun to doubt you would call, but here you are and yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes. I would still very much like for you to help with the planning.”
‘I didn’t think it would mean this much to her,’ Sarah thought feeling a bit smug and in control after the reaction she’d received.
“When can we get together to go over things?”
“Uh,” she stumbled, thrown off for a moment, “well, this week is bad for me.”
“The weekend then?”
“I’ve got plans and it’s too late to cancel, would next week be too late,” Sarah asked flipping the page in her week-at-a-glance.
Enthusiastically Rowan selected a day from the following week. “Monday?” After all why wait.
“I have a lunch Monday which will probably mean my being here very late.”
“Sorry to hear that, well,” there was some rustling of papers, “I’m free Thursday night.”
“Client dinner.”
“I assume you have plans for the weekend?” Rowan asked.
“I do.” Which was a half truth. While she’d hoped she would have plans for the weekend, nothing had been confirmed. “But my Sundays are always free.” Of late her Sundays were reserved for recooperation but if it needed to be she would forego drinking next weekend.
“Sunday it is then.”
Sarah sighed, “That’s the 12th. That won’t be too late for you.”
“Nonsense, I would rather stay up for the full forty-eight hours before the wedding giving it final touches with your help than comfortably have everything completed weeks in advance without your hand in it at all.” There was a sound of sarcasm to what she said and how she’d said it, but Sarah wrote it off.
In her head she repeated, ‘Its for Toby…It’s for Toby…’ while she said to Rowan, “Should I come out there?”
“No, no,” she rushed. “I’ll come to you.”
“That’s right. You want to surprise my brother.”
“Indeed, how’s 11:00?”
‘In the morning?,’ her head screamed. After a Saturday night at Neo Sarah rarely saw the conscious world before 12:30. “11:00 is fine. I’ll email you directions.”
“No need, I have them from Toby.”
“Oh, ok…” she hesitated, “guess I’ll see you next Sunday then.” Rowan hung up without saying goodbye. Replacing the receiver to it’s carriage, Sarah sighed. “That was odd.”
***** ***** *****
Before then, Sarah wouldn’t have admitted she’d had any obsessive compulsive disorder, but by the following Saturday night when she stood outside Neo’s doors in a pair of red leather pants which just barely showed the silver stiletto heal and black toe of a three hundred dollar pair of Mephisto four inch pumps an open back, black shimmering top, she realized she’d begun a cycle. Monday through Friday, she had crossed town at exactly 12:17 to watch a man smoke a cigarette and then Saturday night at 8:30 she caught a cab with her best friend after having bought a new outfit all in the hope she would see him there.
Sipping her rum and coke, she rotated her head looking for Ashton, while the girls were trying to shout pieces of conversation to her over the pounding bass. “Someone you’re looking for?” June asked.
“That guy from last week I’m sure,” April added.
“Ashton,” Laney mouthed to Dina.
“What does she see in him.”
Laney shrugged. “All I know is it’s the first guy she’s shown any interest in seven years and I’m sure as hell not going to discourage her.”
“Be that as it may Laney my love, I come here to dance, not to sit around waiting for men to find my friend’s friend.” On her feet in the next beat, Dina had them, like she had them that first weekend, both Sarah and June. “Come on ladies, they don’t call it a dance club for nothing.”
It took Sarah a few moments to find the rhythm in the music but once she had, she was even more captivating than she had been that first night. It would have seemed the music she heard ran through her, possessed her.
I’ll turn you on like a tiger baby
Hard body motor city love life
I’ll take you for a ride down to my way baby
Be my little human sacrifice
Do my kisses burn
Do they take your breath
You got a little lesson to learn now
I’m the kiss of death
She was glistening with perspiration by the second verse as the little groups in her immediate area began to circle around her, everyone fighting to get a view. It was another plane, complete freedom, and Sarah who normally would have shied away from being the center of attention was eating it up. The open back of her shirt exposed her flexing muscles, she’d become a human art exhibit.
History is written by winners baby
So let’s make a little of our own tonight
If you’re thinking my idea of thought ain’t tragic
Never been to paradise
Do my kisses burn
Do they take your breath
You got a little lesson to learn now
I’m the kiss of death
Sex on wheels
Sex on wheels
Sex on wheels
Sex on wheels
People were crowding around now trying to see what excitement was going on inside that circle everyone had formed. When they repeated the first verse, it was a familiar face which came crossing the crowd to observe the woman at the focus of half the club.
When he slid up beside her she smiled over her shoulder, welcoming him. Ashton returned the smile, taking her immediately into his arms and swaying with her as the music changed.
You let me violate you
You let me desecrate you
You let me penetrate you
You let me complicate you
Help me
I broke apart my insides
Help me
I’ve got no soul to tell
Help me
The only thing that works for me
Help me get away from myself
I wanna fuck you like an animal
I wanna feel you from the inside
I wanna fuck you like an animal
My whole existence in fire
You get me closer to God
The way their bodies met, pressed against one another, her thighs wrapped over his, his hands cupping her buttocks would make it virtual impossible for them to keep up the shy act on Monday at lunch.
You can have my isolation
You can have the hate that it brings
You can have my absence of faith
You can have my everything
Help me
You tear down my reason
Help me
Since your sex I can smell
Help me
You make me perfect
Help me become someone else
I wanna fuck you like an animal
I wanna feel you from the inside
I wanna fuck you like an animal
My whole existence in fire
You get me closer to God
The song went on for a full two minutes after the lyrics stopped and the couple kept themselves entwined, moving along in time. Onlookers still in full gawk, it was like watching a live sex show, but Sarah didn’t push him away, even Laney didn’t run to the rescue. They were a train wreck, a beautiful, magnificent, hot train wreck. As the song drew to a close, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, leaned in as if he would kiss her and mouthed, ‘come with me.’ Then, without giving Sarah a chance to rejoin her friends, Ashton whisked her to the bar and bought her a drink.
April looked back to Laney, “How come I never meet men like that?”
“I don’t think another one like him exists.”
***** ***** *****
“So Sarah Williams, you’ve made yourself quite a regular here.”
“How’d you find out my name?”
Ashton half smiled at her as he lifted his glass to drink from it. “I’m a quick study,” he replied handing her a glass of her own. “Go on,” he encouraged, his eyes devilish.
Sarah sipped the dark liquid inside. “Rum and coke,” she smiled. “How’d you know?”
Leaning in, his elbow against the bar, Ashton supported his distinctive chin in the cradle of his palm. “I have my sources.”
“Any of those sources have first names?”
“A true journalist never reveals his sources.”
“Ah,” Sarah said, sipping at her drink, “but you’re an engineer.”
“So I am,” Ashton admitted, slyly cupping the hand Sarah dangled over the edge of the bar. “Then I suppose I must confess to spying your business card in Laney’s office this morning.”
“Spying huh?”
“Well not really. I delivered some results to her office and her Rolodex was open to your name. Sarah from Sidley, it wasn’t too hard to put together, even without Watson.”
“What about my drink?”
Fingers slipping between hers in a perfect braid, Ashton pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, “I could smell it on your breath when we were dancing.”
At that, Sarah stopped breathing, the air seemed to hitch in her throat and solidify. His face was so close to hers she could have kissed him with relative ease, but she couldn’t remember how. Completely under his spell, she only tilted her head, mesmerized by his eyes and waited as his smile faded and his lips pressed to hers. It was like a butterfly dancing on her lips, like the wind, like a dream.
It was like opening something that had been vacuumed packed when they separated. Sarah felt the air seeping slowly back into her lungs as her chest inflated. A full twenty seconds passed before she opened her eyes. Ashton sat there, sipping his drink as though nothing extraordinary had happened. The rum and Coke felt cool against the lips he’d set on fire, so much so, that sipping quickly gave way to chugging and she emptied the glass.
“Would you like another?” Ashton asked. Sarah shook her head. “At this rate,” he chided, “I’ll never get you drunk enough to get your phone number.”
From a back pocket of her leather pants she pulled out an ID case. Withdrawing a card from behind her licence, she turned it end over end before lying it on the bar and sliding it in his direction. “Since you’re so fond of my business card,” she told him. With as little warning as Ashton had given her, Sarah got up and left the bar to rejoin her friends.
***** ***** *****
“He did what?” Laney squawked when Sarah finished spilling the details about her time alone with Ashton. It was like a bad episode of Ally McBeal where even though it didn’t happen, Sarah’s mind saw the entire club freeze and focus on her while Ashton leaned casually against the bar and smirked.
Whispering this time she told her friend, “It happened so fast, well not fast at all really, but completely without my suspecting and the next thing I know I’m giving him my phone number.”
Laney gathered her purse, having had enough of the club for tonight. “I don’t like it Sarah, there’s something about him I don’t trust. Now I was just saying how I wasn’t going to discourage you, but who does that sort of thing?”
There was one person. A man Sarah had dreamt up in the furthest reaches of her adolescent mind, an outlet for her frustrations. He was the only other one she knew who had a knack for seducing someone with a look. “He’s what I’ve always wanted in a guy Laney. Aloof, mysterious, low maintenance.”
Saying goodbye to the others they took a cab back home. “I just think you should be careful, that’s all.”
“I’m careful, Laney, I’m careful.” Turning to face the window, Sarah bit her thumbnail. ‘That’s my whole problem,’ she thought, ‘I’m too careful.’
***** ***** *****
Monday came brutally quickly and the lunch date she’d scheduled with the Gallaghers prevented her traditional escape to see Ashton and Laney. For a few moments she’d considered jaunting across town for ten minutes just to jaunt back in order to woo her clients, but the idea of running whilst occupying a pencil skirt, a silk blouse and three inch pumps fled her subconscious for reasons of practicality. Instead she sat in her office, stacking pencils into a log cabin box waiting for the Gallaghers to arrive.
They were a father and son duo derived from a father and son duo who was most likely derived from a father and son duo themselves. A long line of business men which meant contracts, contracts meant breaches, breaches meant court, court meant attorneys and that meant revenue. Law was a peculiar thing. Someone paid you to draft a bunch of mumbo jumbo which, in theory, kept you out of trouble, but inevitably trouble arose at which time you had to pay another attorney to decipher what the first had down and set it straight. Sarah would pitch it to him this way, ‘Let us handle your contract drafting, a set fee on a per matter basis and when the time comes we have to take something to court, well I’ll already have the background to get you through it. It’ll cut your fees in half.’ It was the beauty in having learned both contract law and litigation.
The rest of the afternoon they’d eat expensive cuts of steak and swill overly priced wine while they talked about the Cubs and the stock market. The key was to plant a notion and let them come back to seal the deal, pushing someone into a retainer was never very effective. Drop a few key phrases, you could be held liable…save on fees…more efficient. Make it personal, if it were my company, I’d want the added protection a lawyer provided…you wouldn’t want to go to a new doctor every time you were sick would you? Then back off quick, before they realized it they were what was on the menu, not the steak.
Interrupting her rehearsal, Nettie paged in, “Sarah, the Gallaghers are in the reception area for you.”
“Thanks Nettie.”
Down one floor, through the elevator bank and to her left sat the current working generations of the illustrious Gallagher family. Robert, the father, earlier fifties, salt and pepper hair, debonair. Patrick, mid-thirties, auburn hair, free spirited. Robert was doing everything in his power to get Patrick to ‘see things his way’, but his son had modern ideas on running an antique business in today’s world. It was a classic struggle.
“Gentlemen,” she said, extending a hand and slinging her Gucci bag over her shoulder, “so glad you could make it.”
Robert greeted her first with a firm handshake, then Patrick with a wanton glance and a compliment on her blouse. Used to the obnoxious behavior of younger clients who thought a female attorney had to log a few bench hours of her own to get anywhere, she readily ignored him and led the gentlemen to the main lobby where a cab was waiting to take them to lunch.
***** ***** *****
“Reservations for three under the name Williams, Sarah Williams.”
“Right this way ma’am,” the maitre de said. When they’d been led to their table, he turned, and announced their server would be right with them.
“So Sarah, how’s that son of yours?” Robert asked.
Flustered she replied, “I haven’t any children.”
“Sure you do, I remember him from years ago, you used to carry his picture in your card holder.”
“That’s my brother Robert, Toby. He’s getting married in a couple of weeks actually.”
“Marriage,” the older gentlemen sighed. “a fine institution. I keep trying to get Pat married off, but he won’t hear of it. I don’t know how I’m going to keep my great, great grandfather’s company alive if my son doesn’t soon have a son of his own.”
Patrick mumbled something under his breath.
Able to decipher most mumbles in the blink of an eye, Sarah piped up, “Why not train one of the girls to take over?”
Patting her hand, Robert offered, “Sarah, our family business has been Gallagher and Sons since it’s incorporation, who am I to argue with tradition?” Sarah smiled, thinking it best if she kept her more feminist views to herself.
When the waiter made his way to their table he brought with him a tray of ice waters and wrapped silverware. It was good timing given the route their conversation was about to take. Introducing himself, Adolpho dished out the contents of his tray and went over the specials. When he was through, Robert ordered a filet, well done. Patrick asked if the prime rib was ready, which it was and Sarah ordered the delmonico, medium, much to the chagrin of the gentlemen accompaning her. “And a bottle of your best merlot,” she added. “So, Robert,” she leaned across the table looking very serious, since we’re talking about your business...”
All in all, theirs was a successful lunch. Robert promised her three small contracts and a firm, “We’ll see where it goes from there.”
***** ***** *****
Toward the end of the week, Gallagher sent in his contracts, just as he promised. There was a good bit of editing to do. There was no clause for personal negligence, no trade secret protection from noncompete agreements. Frankly, she was shocked at how poorly they had been drafted. By the time she finished polishing them, there was no way Robert could be anything less than impressed with her. Tucking her red flair behind her ear, she leaned back to fold her legs under her in the chair.
She felt so damned bipolar. Loving what she did, but feeling trapped by it had worn her down. Ashton, Neo, dancing, it made her feel energetic, almost indestructible, even if it was self destruction she feared most. “Ashton,” she whispered with a sigh, doodling his name in the corner of one of the draft proposals like a juvenile preteen with her first crush on a boy.
It seemed of late Sarah couldn’t concentrate on anything without thoughts of a certain engineer creeping in and taking control of her every thought. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the feel of his lips against hers again. In the middle of the day, she felt like sleeping, for once not from exhaustion, but rather with the hope she’d dream.
When the phone rang, it took Sarah a moment to determine whether it was an actual ring or a dream state. “Sarah?” Nettie asked.
“Yes,” she said into the intercom.
Her secretary’s voice lowered a few octaves. “Sarah, there’s a Mr. Price on your line. He wishes to speak with..er..uh...the sex kitten he met at the bar this weekend.”
“Oh Christ,” she grunted. “Ah, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”
“You do that,” Nettie smiled through the phone. Sarah could hear her.
“Hello,” the unnerved attorney said shakily into the phone. As if he could see her somehow, she fluffed her hair, sat up straight and swung her legs back under her desk.
Ashton seemed to nearly ignore her greeting as he went immediatly into a poetic compliment. “I can’t help but wonder if you look as beautiful in a business suit as you do in a leather corsette.”
“I wouldn’t be able to give you an answer without being bias,” she smirked.
“I’ll take my chances,” he replied. Sarah smiled so big her cheeks ached. “I hope you don’t mind me calling at work, but you did only give me your office number.”
“I’m surprised I had to give you my number at all,” she told him as she twirled the phone cord with her finger. “What with your, what was it again, spies?”
Chuckling Ashton insinuated he’d called off his spies because he was fearful they’d steal her away from him. “So I took this mission on myself.”
“And what is this mission of yours?”
“It’s a very dangersous one?”
‘Through dangers untold,’ Sarah thought. Shaking her head she asked, “Dangerous?”
“Very.” There was a grumble as he cleared his throat, “It involves open heart surgery.”
“Are you sick?”
“Maybe a little. Have you ever thought about becoming a doctor Sarah Williams?”
She could feel his lips curling even through the phone. “I don’t think so.”
“Too bad.” Ashton sighed heavily. “Here I am love sick, hoping you would be the one I could open my heart to and...”
“I’m clicking the submit button for my on-line PhD right now.”
“Lucky me.”
‘Not yet,’ Sarah smiled.
In the background he thought he’d heard a chuckle so Ashton waited a moment before finally making his point, “I was hoping we could go to Neo again this weekend.”
“Well the girls and I were planning on being there.”
“Um...yeah...” he hesitated. “Thing is, I was thinking it would be nice if I could take you to the club,” pausing, Ashton awaited her answer. When none came, he further suggested, “And the one to take you home.”
“Engineer, international spy, and chauffer, my, my, my you do keep busy.”
“8:30 then?”
“8:30,” she smiled.
Nettie threw open Sarah’s door, “Miss Cass on your second line Sarah. She says you’re late.”
“Late for what?” Ashton asked.
Out her lips came her thoughts, “Our date to oogle you.”
“I’m flattered.” Sarah’s mouth hung open, embarrassed by her slip, words now fearful of falling from her gapping jaws without the preapproval of her mind. “I should let you go, Laney’s obsessive about time.”
“I’ve always thought so,” she agreed, feeling comforted by his easy out. “Thanks for calling.”
“My pleasure.”
More than a minute passed before she remembered there was someone on the other line. “Laney?”
“Where are you?”
Chuckling, she pointed out the obvious, “You called my office and I picked up the call, where would that tell you I was?”
“It’s 12:40. You’re going to miss your daily portion of eye candy.”
“You’re adorable.” Scoffing, she added, “For your information neighsayer, it just so happens I only now hung up with the devilishly handsome Mr. Price.”
“And?”
“And he would like to accompany me out this Saturday night?”
“I thought we were going to Neo?”
“We are. Ashton said he’d like to be the one to bring me.” Spinning in her chair like that school girl from earlier, “And he’d like to take me home.”
“Isn’t that nice,” Laney forced. “So we’ll see you there?” she asked without much caring.
Too excited by her own fantasies to care, Sarah giddily said, “Uh, huh.”
“Right, well I gotta go then. I’m late for my lunch. This is gonna throw off my whole afternoon.”
“Don’t let me hold you up.”
“Call you tomorrow,” Laney promised as she hung up.
Before she could say okay, her friend was gone.
***** ***** *****
“Enjoy your dinner with Mr. Dunhoff,” Nettie chided when she left the office.
Looking up from the contracts, Sarah rubbed her eyes and raised her brows. “Couldn’t I just get a couple of back to back root canals during a novocain shortage?”
“That bad, eh?”
“Worse,” she groaned. Squinting hard, the contracts were neatly stacked and placed aside. “I guess I can’t postpone it any longer.” Her watch confirmed that. “Have a good night Nettie,” Sarah told the older woman as she dragged herself out of her office chair.
Pausing by the door, Nettie offered, “If you’d like I could go with you. I mean if you’re really dreading it that much.”
“Nettie, I wouldn’t put the girl who called me a lanky bitch in high school through dinner and drinks with Stanley Dunhoff, let alone someone I like as much as you. Go, before I come to my senses and grab you around the knees refusing to let you leave me alone.”
“I appreciate it.”
With half a smile, Sarah clasped her hand over the back of her neck and stretched her shrinking muscles. In a wall mirror by her door, she smoothed her rumpled hair and reapplied some powder, lipstick, a dab of perfume. Grabbing her purse, she mumbled something about tax deductions not being worth this and off she went. Down the elevators, out the door, walk the seven blocks, it would kill a little more time. What was it elite women declared as they strode into a room fifteen minutes after a party had begun, fashionably late.
Outside N9ne, she let loose a deep sigh. Her palms were colder than the door handle. “Stan,” she sang when she saw her potential client inside the foyer, “it’s so good to see you.” Reaching to shake his hand, Sarah found his scotch soaked breath engulfed her as he pressed his still wet and sticky lips against her cheek.
“Miss Williams, it is Miss now, isn’t it?”
“It is,” she forced a smile. “Shall we find someplace to talk?”
His empty hand guided her by the middle of her back through the crowd and up to one of the neon illuminated bars. “What can I order for you?”
“Tanqueray.” Definitive. Simple.
From behind the bar came the option, “Neat? Or Rocky?”
“Rocky, with a twist.”
Nodding, the bartender left to make her drink, looking back over his shoulder in Sarah’s direction. Smiling back, she tucked her chin to her chest and looked back from the corner of her eyes. Dunhoff leaned in mistaking her glance as being meant for him. “So, Sarah, may I call you Sarah?” Tight lipped she nodded. “Let’s talk about what you have to offer me?” As he reached for her leg, Sarah slipped her purse over her knee.
“Thank you,” she told the bartender when he brought the Tanqueray. They smiled slyly, both fully aware she was with a lout, she didn’t want to be with. “Stan, if you don’t mind my asking, why did you pull your representation out of Sidley?”
“Are you going to encourage me to get back into Sidley?” Dunhoff asked with wagging brows. The object of his poorly proposed suggestiveness remained stony. “One of these days, I’d like these business dinners of ours to be less business and more dinner,” he admitted openly. “Hey there Mick,” he called the waiter.
“It’s Mig, like pig with an ‘M’,” but his sarcasm was wasted on the balding three piece suit.
“Sure, listen son, we’d like some clams, some mushrooms and a tray of caviar.”
“For you Miss?” he asked when Stan finished.
Offended, he poked the crisp white shirt covering Mig’s developed forearms, “We’ll be sharing.”
“Too bad,” he said completely ignoing the geezer.
Dunhoff cleared his throat, “Truth is, I found someone with better rates.”
“Stan, really, I’ve done my research. You’ve been to court six times this year. Four of those hearing resulted in a judgement against your company, costing you a grand total of over $3,581,000. That’s put your insurance premium up by forty-eight percent. Where’s the savings?”
Looking into the bottom of his scotch, Stan asked, “What does Sidley want to plug?”
“Look, let me get this pitch out the way and we can enjoy our food without all this work talk,” she smiled. It wasn’t so much that she knew how to play him well, it was that he was so easy to play. “Sidley is prepared to offer you more comprehensive insurance coverage for thirteen percent less than what you’re paying.”
Grousing, he object, “Not much of a savings.”
“Wait. Your savings won’t be obvious at first, but in time you’ll see that you’re paying less in court, fees, expenses, judgments. Contracting is dangerous business, accidents happen. At Sidley we understand that. We can negotiate limits into your personal injury responsibilities, negate unecessary coverage in your long term disability coverage. Your rates will decrease. In the long run you stand to protect millions by coming back to us.”
“You’re good at what you do, you know that?”
“If I didn’t, Stan, I’d stop doing it.” They clinked their glases, each polishing off their drinks. When he motioned for refills Sarah halted him. “A bottle of Cristal,” Sarah ordered. “We’re going to celebrate.”
“I’ll be right back,” Dunhoff excused himself and made his way to the men’s room. Sarah had traumatic visions of what he was going to do in there.
The bartender came back with the bottle Sarah had requested, “This is a three hundred dollar bottle of champagne,” he reminded her.
“A small price to pay to get this night over,” she sighed handing over her corporate AMEX card.
“Business?” he asked.
Sarah nodded, thinking, ‘Why do I look desperate?’ as her guest returned.
“Anything but,” Dunhoff said pouring the champagne.
***** ***** *****
Friday morning completed his fourth week of watching Sarah show up every morning. He noticed her improved demeanor. It would have pleased him to think he’d had something to do with it. That his spark for life might have caught on after that day with her wrap. She was gorgeous when she was happy. It started with her smile and dripped all the way down to the toes of her expensive shoes. He’d been silent long enough. As she passed him, he coughed, nothing loud, barely a whisper. Enough to turn her head. The knuckle of his forefinger curled over his smile. Looking up at her coyly he made a more distinct “um, huh” sound so she would know he meant to have her hear. She gave him a nervous smile. It was good enough for him. Taking a few steps in her direction, he moved with purpose, slowly, stalking like a predator. Sarah ducked quickly in her building. With no prey left to approach, he switched his stride to something more ordinary and headed off.
***** ***** *****
It was 8:03 when Sarah finished pulling the short shorts over the lace stockings she’d wrangled into earlier. The shorts were incredible, hugging tight to her slim waist, accentuating her rounding hips. From the waist, downward in a V was sewn a cape of sorts. Full round at the waist band, gradually sloping to her thighs and then hanging along the outside of her legs, it rose up when she walked, swayed about her when she turned. It felt as amazing as it looked. Best of both worlds, something to show and something to leave to the imagination. Taboo Taboo stocked an off the shoulder pirate’s blouse with flouncy sleeves and a mid riff. Over it she found a corset which laced loosely up the front, showing a bit of her flat tummy. Over her left eye a rhinestone patch. It wasn’t a pair of hand cuffs, a leather collar, a riding crop, but it was as abnormal an accessory as she was ready for.
Deciding between the Stuart Weitzman clunky boots, the Anne Klein pumps, the Taryn Rose stilettos and the Manolo Blahnik leopard prints took her right up to the very minute the door bell rang. “$1200 on shoes and I can’t even find something that looks right with this outfit. The Manolos were on when Ashton arrived and truthfully the leopard print added more to the all black outfit than the other plain pairs did.
“You look amazing,” he said when she opened the door.
“Same to you,” she complimented looping her arm through his. The shirt he had on was soft, at least partially silk, his ripped abs far from concealed beneath the thin fabric. Downstairs when he opened the cab door, she couldn’t help notice effect in the seat of his pants. “Thank you,” she said lifting her skirt wrap and getting into the taxi.
On the way to the club, Ashton slid his arm around her shoulder and whispered more compliments into her ear, brushing his lips against her neck when she would blush and turn away. The cab driver nearly took out a newspaper machine and two college students by craning into the rear view mirror. Ashton opened her door at the club, his eyes hidden behind tiny dark lenses, Sarah had only his charming smile to distract her. That was enough. Stumbling into his arms, he caught her lightly and popped her onto the curb. Coming off rehearsed, it appeared more a gentlemanly gesture than a clumsy fall. They walked down the alley, toward the single beacon of light.
Laney, Dina and the calendar sisters waited by at the edge of the cone of light. Ashton and Sarah didn’t stop. Too wrapped up in one another they only walked inside. Directly to the bar, they had a drink before monopolizing the dance floor with their live sex shows. Laney listened to all her favorite songs play. Covenant, Manson, Switchblade Symphony, nothing moved her. She watched her friend, watched her dance, watched her drink, watched her give it up to this guy in front of a building full of strangers. Several times, she’d seen those pale green eyes glance her way, but not once did she receive the slightest acknowledgment.
Dina and April danced on. May did her best to keep Laney company, to keep her mind off Sarah, but nothing worked. She was pissed and a blind man could have sensed it. When she saw the dynamic duo head for the door, just after one, she moved to cut them off. April was prepared to separate the feral cats when they collided, but rather Laney only leaned against the door, forcing Sarah to take notice of her.
Out of breath, Sarah’s chest heaved as she spoke. “Laney,” Ashton’s grip of her waist prevented her follow through as she moved to hug her friend. She kissed the usually perky brunette on the cheek. “I didn’t see you here.”
“I was at our regular table.”
Wobbling from the alcohol, the day time lawyer, night time vamp swished her hand, “You know me, I just get so caught up in the music I barely see what’s in front of my face.”
Laney watched them get into a cab, “That’s for damn sure,” she told the bouncer at the door.