The Game (Carolina Connections Book 4) Page 3

  Craig and I were both fourth-year associates, and it was no secret that one of us would eventually be weeded out before a partnership was offered to the final one standing. And I fully intended to be the victor when a partnership was on the table. I’d busted my butt to be an indispensable asset to the firm, always making myself available, and billing more than the required hours, while also carving out time for pro bono cases. And I would continue to do so, no matter what.

  I chanced a sideways glance at Craig and noticed his eyes were firmly planted on my crossed legs. I felt the urge to pull my skirt down, even though it sat at a perfectly modest length. Blech. I turned my head fully toward him, forcing his eyes up to mine. He didn’t even have the decency to blush. A cunning grin crossed his unsettlingly pouty lips, and it suddenly occurred to me that he bore an uncanny resemblance to that creepy actor, Cillian Murphy. I repressed a shudder. Once I got the partnership, maybe Craig could move to L.A. and be a movie villain. The thought made me snicker inwardly.

  “Ms. Scott, Mr. Pendleton, come on in.” The door to Thomas Wheeler’s office had opened and he beckoned us both inside. Mr. Wheeler was my favorite of the managing partners. He was also the only one who addressed me as “Ms. Scott” instead of “Emerson,” which would not have bothered me except Craig was referred to as “Mr. Pendleton” by all three managing partners.

  Mr. Wheeler crossed to the other side of his large mahogany desk and sank into his plush leather chair. He was a tall man and kept himself in decent shape through healthy eating and an even healthier appetite for golf and racquetball. His square jaw and neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair made a strong impression, along with his confident bearing.

  He folded his hands on the desk in front of him as Craig and I settled in. “So, I know you’re both aware we had to let Mr. Anderson go last week.” Travis Anderson had been another of the fourth-year associates in the corporate law department. Despite his sharp intelligence and work ethic, his work had slowly declined over the past year since he and his wife welcomed twins into their family. Travis was a great guy, but there was no slacking off at Jefferson, Wheeler, and Schenk, no matter how important the reason. It hadn’t been a huge surprise when he’d been dismissed. I’d seen associates drop like flies in the past four years. But that wasn’t going to be me.

  Craig cleared his throat, and I knew some brown-nosing comment was soon to follow. “Well, sir, some people just don’t have their priorities in order.” I barely resisted making a gagging sound.

  Mr. Wheeler merely gave Craig a blank look.

  Ha! Insensitive jerk. Take that!

  Our boss continued, “At any rate, this leaves us with more work and fewer associates to cover it. I’ve already reassigned a few projects, but I’ll need you each to take on some of the workload.” This was the moment of truth. Travis had been working on several cases, but only one truly mattered: the AgPower agricultural startup. Whoever took that one would be working closely with Mr. Wheeler, an opportunity that was worth its weight in gold.

  A project that had started as advising on a simple agricultural startup had now grown into a colossal business opportunity, thanks to a push the client’s company had garnered from some big players in the industry. The company was developing a new crop that had the potential to create a biofuel alternative. Handled correctly, this could mean big things for the firm and the lawyers involved. The entire firm had been buzzing about it for weeks, and Travis had become increasingly overwhelmed by the project’s scope.

  I could feel Craig holding his breath along with me as Mr. Wheeler pushed two stacks of folders across his desk, one to each of us. My breath whooshed out as I made out the word “AgPower” on the label of my top folder. Yes! All those extra hours and volunteering to take on undesirable cases and clients had paid off. I felt like jumping across the desk and hugging Mr. Wheeler. Of course, I would never actually do something so inappropriate. Even thinking it was uncharacteristic of me.

  I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Craig’s reaction at first. He extended his hand across the desk to Mr. Wheeler. “I appreciate the opportunity, sir.” It was then that I glanced at Craig’s folders. No freaking way! The label on one of his was identical to mine. We were both on the AgPower start-up. I was going to have to work with the dreaded Craig.

  I managed to paste on a smile and extend my hand as well. “Thank you, sir. We’ll get right on it.”

  “I know you will. Get up to speed on AgPower for the afternoon meeting. We’ll see you in the east conference room at 4:00.”

  That was our dismissal, so Craig and I crossed to the door. He exited before me and didn’t bother holding the door. This was going to be a pleasant few months.

  “I can’t believe they gave it to both of you!” Ari’s indignant expression made me want to hug her. She’d stopped by on her way home from her karaoke hosting gig she did a few nights a week. This was in addition to her full-time job as a receptionist at a realty office and her freelance web design business.

  I shrugged because what else could I do. “I know, but I’ll just have to put my head down and work my butt off. I just wish it were Travis instead of Craig.” I scrunched up my nose as I thought about Craig’s smug face yet again.

  “That guy is such a two-faced twat.” She shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth and offered me the bowl.

  “Watch your mouth!” I whisper-yelled and took a glance at the hall behind me.

  “Excuse the hell out of me,” she mumbled over her mouthful of popcorn. “I hate to break it to you, Em, but you should hear the things teenagers say these days. It would burn your delicate ears clean off.”

  I put a hand up, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that I’d probably need a professional translator to understand half the words that came out of any teenager’s mouth. “Please don’t remind me. He’s already about a foot taller than me. I don’t need another indication of how grown up he is. That kid is a statistical anomaly—what is Aldo? Five-foot-seven, maybe?” I asked.

  Ari shrugged and offered me the popcorn again. I took a handful and played with a piece between my fingers. “All he does is stay in his room—that is, when he’s here at all. He’s so focused on not being a bother that I hardly get a chance to see him.”

  She grabbed my hand. “Hey, just give him time to settle in and he’ll come out of his shell.”

  I gave her a sad smile. “Yeah, I guess. But I’m going to be up to my ears on this case and keeping an eye on Craig. It’s not like I’ll be here a lot. I feel bad.”

  “Look. You’re both making the best out of a difficult situation. You focus on work and the two-faced twat, and Jay will take care of himself.”

  I swatted at her for cussing again. “I know he’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but that doesn’t mean he should have to. He’s only fifteen, for crying out loud.”

  “With the soul of a fifty-year-old.” She gave me a knowing look. And she was not wrong.

  I’d tried talking to him earlier in the evening, but he’d gently brushed me off again, citing homework that needed his attention. I’d have to be persistent if I wanted him to feel at home, and not like I was merely tolerating his presence.

  “Didn’t you say he has a game this coming weekend? We’ll go and cheer him on—embarrass the shit out of him. That right there is how a brother knows he’s loved.” Ari winked at me. She would know. She comes from a family of four kids, and all they ever seem to do is bicker and throw insults. It had been that way since we were kids living next door to one another.

  The thought of going to Jay’s game made me smile. My kid brother’s passion had always been baseball. From the moment he’d shoved his tiny hand into his first glove at the age of three, it had become an obsession. No matter how many times our mom and Aldo had moved him to different cities and different schools, the one thing that remained constant was baseball. There was always a home for Jay on any school or league’s team.

  In fact, it was one of
the main reasons he’d asked to live with me until he finished out high school. There were no teams on the craft fair circuit—or the home-school program run by one self-proclaimed psychic and her pot-smoking partner. And I was more than happy to have him.

  “It’s a date,” I told Ari, although we both knew I wouldn’t embarrass Jay. She’d do that all on her own.

  Ari yawned, which was contagious.

  I tried to stifle mine. “I still have these files and e-mails to look over before the morning, and I’m sure you have some dirty text messages to send.”

  She pretended to be offended but it didn’t last more than a second. “Well, far be it from me to get in the way of you crushing Craig like the insignificant little pest he is.” She bent down and began fastening the buckle of her shoe.

  The mental image was pleasing, I had to admit. “Besides that, I’ve got to work extra hard to make an impression with Wheeler. If it were up to Jefferson and Schenk, I wouldn’t be anywhere near a case this important. Those two are old-school boys’ club all the way.” It was a reality in my profession—one I’d been fully aware of before I decided to pursue a law degree. It was also the reason I’d taken golf lessons during all my school breaks and tried to schedule rounds with other lawyers whenever possible. Truthfully, I hated golf, but it was all part of the bigger picture. Show you’re a team player and they might forget you don’t have a penis.

  Not to say that was the reality across all law firms, but it certainly was in mine—and in the majority of established firms like ours. Deals were still made in locker rooms and on golf courses, as archaic as that may be. But I had to believe a killer work ethic could win out in the end.

  “Neanderthal mentality.” Ari shook her head. “It might be fun in the bedroom, but that’s where it needs to stay.” She arched her eyebrows and her piercing winked at me.

  I wrinkled my nose at her in return which made her laugh. “TMI, Ari.” Not that I could ever stop her from sharing. The girl had always been an open book. Sometimes I found myself wishing I could be more like Ari, but I couldn’t ever release my white-knuckle grip on my control in that way. I had an innate need to be taken seriously.

  She abandoned her shoe. “Oh, come on! You can’t tell me you wouldn’t like a little bit of alpha male in your life. And maybe a spanking or two?” Now she was just baiting me with her waggling brows and ridiculous grin.

  “Shut up!” I covered my ears and she threw a handful of popcorn at me. Nobody knew me better than Ari, which was why it was so easy for her to tease me. “You go ahead and get your paddle, just leave me out of it.”

  She cackled. “I may just have to give Elliot a call.”

  Oh, eww.

  “Or you could just crash here,” I suggested. She lived twenty minutes away and I hated the thought of her driving home after working two shifts today.

  “You sound like Mamá.” She fake scowled at me. “And you’re just jealous because it’s been…wait, how long has it been since you got laid?”

  I huffed at her. “I don’t know. When did David and I break up?” Truthfully, I didn’t understand what the big deal was with sex. It was sometimes pleasant, other times awkward, and a few times, downright gross.

  “Girl, that was over six months ago. Your vibrator must be working overtime.” Again with the baiting.

  I covered my face with a throw pillow. “Will you please shut up!” I knew my face was crimson.

  She forcefully pulled the pillow off my face. “I’m just messing with you. You work too hard and you need to cut loose. Go on a date. Something!”

  “I’ll cut loose when I’m dead. Right now, I have a gazillion e-mails to go through and a brother to figure out.” And I didn’t want to talk about vibrators. Or dates. “And, besides, I can’t be in a relationship while this case is in progress. I need to stay completely focused—no distractions.” I pointed at her.

  “Well, you’ll still have to put up with me—and Jay—but I get it,” she responded, finishing with the buckles of her strappy heels. She rose from the couch and adjusted her tank top over her ample chest. I let myself be a little jealous of her endowments for a moment before pushing the thought aside. Ari is half Italian and half Puerto Rican—she got the Puerto Rican curves and the attitude of both cultures. Combine that with her dyed burgundy hair and her piercings and tattoos, and you had one unforgettable woman.

  I looked down at my modest, baby-pink silk pajamas covering my slim but unremarkable build. The only thing noteworthy about me was probably my natural auburn locks, but there was nothing wrong with that. Some people were made to stand out and others were made to be the cogs in the machine. And I was a darn good cog. And, further, when it came to my career, I was bound for greatness. I just had to be persistent and play the game.

  Chapter Three

  The Joyride and the Giant Pistachio

  GAVIN

  “He did what?!” I covered my eyes with one hand and leaned back against the refrigerator, phone still glued to my ear.

  “You heard me!” Gerry growled from the other end.

  Shit.

  “Buzz is about to shit a brick. You wanna tell me exactly what you said to that kid to make him do something this stupid?”

  “What makes you think it was something I said?!” I tried to defend myself but it was really no use with Gerry.

  “Maybe the fact that he said you told him to do it!”

  “No I didn’t!” And that was no lie. I would never tell a fourteen-year-old kid to take a car for a joyride—especially in a car that belonged to someone else. A very expensive car that belonged to someone else.

  It seemed Chris had taken my advice to the extreme in an attempt to prove himself to some of the older players. He’d accepted a dare to lift the keys to Brad Jameson’s neighbor’s BMW Z4 and take it for a spin. The similarity to my own youthful indiscretion wasn’t lost on me. Thankfully, though, no one had been hurt this time. But that didn’t mean no one was in trouble. Chris Hardacre was in deep shit. And it seemed Jameson and his buddies had clammed up regarding their part in the whole fiasco.

  I thought back to my conversation with Chris from the other night. To my best recollection, I’d told him to stay cool and not let the other guys see that they intimidated him. We’d talked about fitting in, but this definitely wasn’t what I had meant.

  Shit.

  “All right, Gerry, calm down. I’m gonna call Chris’s parents and find out exactly what’s going on. Surely the neighbor will drop the charges when he understands the circumstances.”

  “You’d better hope to hell he does! You call me back the minute you get any info. I don’t want this kid’s ass swinging in the wind, you hear me?!”

  “Loud and clear. I got this.”

  I so totally did not have this. Shit.

  The first thing I did after hanging up with the Hardacres was to call my fairy godmother. Oh, you didn’t mishear. I have a real-life fairy godmother. She’s about five feet tall, has the mouth of a sailor, and I don’t ever cross her if I can help it—but she’s the real deal. Fiona Pierce makes things happen. And if there were ever a time when I needed something good to happen, it was now.

  “What’s up, Gav?” she answered breathlessly. I heard loud male cursing in the background, followed by female laughter.

  “Is that Mark? Are you torturing him?” Fiona is Mark’s boyfriend—yes, my boss, Mark—and the two love to go at it.

  Wait. Sorry. Okay, yeah, that too.

  “I’m over at Bailey’s and we’re watching Jake and Mark try to put together the crib for the baby. It’s hilarious. For two guys who work with their hands all day, they are remarkably bad at this.” She snickered.

  Jake is Mark’s brother, and he and his wife, Bailey, were expecting a kid in a couple months. It was going to be like watching a science experiment gone wrong—or maybe a car crash. Bailey is probably the last person on earth I’d label as maternal. I’d call Jake maternal before I’d call Bailey that, and that dude could kic
k my ass. Nevertheless, the train had left the station and we were just waiting for the big day.

  I heard Mark’s voice in the background. “Who the hell are you talking to, Shortcake?”

  She didn’t even bother covering the phone. “It’s Gavin. Do you want me to ask him to come over and help?”

  Bailey’s voice chimed in, “How many burly dudes does it take to put a crib together? There’s got to be a joke in there somewhere.”

  “Shut it, Irish!” That had to be Jake. “We’re just getting our bearings.”

  This caused another round of female laughter.

  “It seems they don’t want your help, Gavin. Oh, sorry. You called me. Why was that again?”

  I fought a groan. I might have found this a lot funnier if I didn’t have the weight of Chris’s situation on my mind. I explained the dilemma to Fiona, including the fact that the Hardacres didn’t have much money for a lawyer. It was enough that they were springing for training, but the cost of an expensive (read: good) attorney would break them. Fiona had a lot of connections, due to both her family’s social status and her personality and general inability to stay out of everyone’s business. In fact, she’d been the one to get me an interview at the Baseball Academy in the first place.

  Like I said, she’s a freaking fairy godmother.

  “I’m on it!” she said, and hung up.

  I paced the kitchen, wracking my brain for any ideas of how to make this go away. I could call Brad’s parents and ask them to intervene, but I was guessing they would be too preoccupied with protecting Brad to want to help. But a fourteen-year-old kid was facing possible felony charges just for being stupid, something I was well versed in. I had to do something.

  Twenty minutes later, my phone rang, but this time it was Jake. “Yo, Junior!” he greeted.

  “Hey, man. Did you finish the crib?”

  He mumbled something I couldn’t make out.