Almost Doesn't Count (13 page)

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Authors: Angela Winters

BOOK: Almost Doesn't Count
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“Does he even know you're going to meet Northman?” Erica asked.
“I want to see how this meeting goes first,” Sherise said. “Then I'll tell him, if it's even necessary.”
“You two really need to go to counseling,” Billie said.
“You're overreacting,” Sherise said.
“What about your family plans?” Billie asked.
“Like I can't have a kid after the election is over next year? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“It's a mistake,” Erica said. “There was a very specific reason you quit your job to focus on—”
“Don't you say another word!” Sherise pointed at her. “You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. You've never even been married. You don't know how this goes.”
“Neither do you, apparently,” Erica spat back.
“Okay!” Billie, sitting between the two, placed her hand on Sherise's arm when it looked like Sherise was about to stand up. “Calm down.”
“Fine,” Erica said. “I don't care. Go ahead and ruin your marriage for yet another job.”
“My marriage is fine!” Sherise realized how loud she had yelled that when both girls' eyes widened in response.
Her stomach was tight as knots as she looked around. The couple at the next table had turned to look at her as well.
“Dammit.” She leaned back in her chair, feeling herself start to get too emotional. “Fuck you, Erica.”
“I'm sorry.” Erica was genuinely apologetic after seeing how upset she'd made her.
The table was silent for a few moments as Sherise regained her composure.
“I know I have to tell him, and I will after tomorrow night.” She grabbed her purse and stood up. “I have to go. The babysitter can only stay until eight tonight. I'll talk to you guys later.”
“I said I was sorry,” Erica repeated.
“ 'Night,” was Sherise's only response before heading off.
“What was that?” Erica asked.
“Something is seriously wrong there,” Billie said. “And you were just making it worse.”
“I didn't mean that,” Erica said. “I do care about her marriage. I love Cady and I love her. But something is wrong with that girl. She's gonna mess it all up.”
Billie didn't want to agree with Erica, but she was worried, too. She wondered if Sherise's mistakes were finally going to catch up to her. She had no doubt the girl would land on her feet no matter what, but she didn't want to see her marriage fall apart.
“We have to get to the truth,” she said. “Whether she wants us to or not.”
7
B
illie took a deep breath before she put her hand on the door to the small conference room and opened it. She was already doubting herself. She was doing a good job on this case, and one stupid little dream shouldn't take her off her game. She was too good a lawyer for that and she knew it.
She had never been physically attracted to a client before, but she had to stay focused. This would be the first time she encountered Ricky since the concert invite. She never responded to the text, but did send him an e-mail reminder of their scheduled meeting today. He never responded, but he was here, waiting.
As soon as she entered the room, she was presented with Ricky's back to her. He was sitting at the head of the small conference table, looking down in front of him. No reaction. She closed the door behind her and still no reaction. She swallowed hard and walked toward the table.
“Hello, Mr. Williams,” she said in the most polite professional way she could manage.
“Hello, Ms. Carter.” His voice sounded distant, but polite enough that she couldn't tell if he was angry.
She sat down two seats from him and looked at him with a smile pasted on her face. He was barely smiling, and after making eye contact with her, he looked down at the folder on the table in front of him.
“How are you doing today?” she asked, hearing her voice seem a little high.
“I'm alright.” He shrugged. “I've heard you have some news for me.”
“We're making some progress.” She was grateful to get down to business as she opened the folder in front of her and began discussing the case.
This wasn't working. Billie was trying to focus on the case as she shared her progress with him, but he was making it hard. He was looking at her, no, staring at her with an indescribable expression on his face. She couldn't tell if he was angry or not, and refused to look at him long enough to figure it out. She was only a few minutes into her update when he stopped her cold.
“Billie.”
Looking down at her notes, she could tell from the tone of his voice that he was irritated. Then she heard him sigh and she finally looked up. His face relayed a growing impatience.
“What's going on here?” he asked.
“This is good news,” Billie answered, trying to appear oblivious to what he was really referring to.
He wasn't buying it. “I'm not talking about this case and you know it. There's, like, some kind of awkward wall made of icy bricks between us all of the sudden and I think I know why.”
Billie fidgeted nervously and she maintained her posture. “I'm sorry if you feel I'm being cold to you. I'm only trying to help—”
“It's about the concert, isn't it?” he asked, leaning forward.
Why was he moving closer to her? So she could get a better look at those seductive dark eyes of his?
“What concert?” she asked, adding, “Look, I think we should just talk about what our next steps are and—”
“I was asking you out for a date and that was my fault,” he said. “I shouldn't have done that. Clearly you aren't interested in me that way and—”
“It's not personal,” she interrupted. While it would have probably been best for Ricky to maintain his current assumption, Billie felt compelled to clarify, even though it wasn't in her best interest to do so.
“You didn't respond,” he said. “I can take a hint.”
“I would have loved to have gone,” she said, stuttering through her words. “It's just . . . You're my client. I can't get involved with you while we're on this case.”
Ricky's brows raised and he smiled a bit. “So you were interested?”
Billie smiled nervously like she was sixteen. “What I meant was that I was interested in going to the concert with you, I just . . . We have to keep this relationship professional.”
“Because it's the smart thing to do or because we have to?”
“We have to,” she insisted. “And it's the smart thing to do.”
He leaned back in his seat, looking at her with a mischievous grin on his face. “You missed a great set, girl. The brother singing sounded more like Otis than anyone I've ever heard.”
“So you've seen many Otis Redding impersonators, huh?” she asked, laughing.
“I've seen a few. I told you I'm a fan. I thought you said you were, too.”
“I am. I just didn't know people were going around covering the man.”
“Well, now you know.” He playfully smacked his hand on the table with a laugh.
George Credin did not knock before opening the door to the conference room, and when Billie turned to him, the expression on his olive-skinned young face seemed confused as to why they were laughing. It made her uncomfortable.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said as he cautiously approached her. He reached out his rail-thin arm and handed a piece of folded paper to her. “You wanted this as soon as I could get it.”
“Thank you.” Billie took the paper. “Mr. Williams, this is George, one of our paralegals. George, Mr. Williams is a client.”
Billie gritted her teeth as Ricky smiled in a way that made it clear he knew she was trying to cover by being so professional. Did he think this was funny? This was her professional reputation. George worked with all the lawyers in her practice, including the partners. If he went back and told everyone that it looked to him like Billie was flirting with a client, she would have trouble.
The men greeted each other briefly before George looked at Billie, turned, and left.
“Nice save there,” Ricky said.
“It wasn't a save,” Billie answered back. “I'm a professional and that is how we should—”
She was stopped in her tracks by what she saw on the piece of paper George had given her.
“What is it?” Ricky asked, looking concerned. “Is it my case?”
“Yes.” Billie looked up at him. “It's bad news and good news.”
“Bad news first,” he said.
“We tracked down the time frame for the nine-one-one calls reporting you, so we can get a step closer to finding out if Sanders Realty is behind it.”
“That is . . . um, good news, right?”
“There were four calls made in the span of two weeks and three of them are missing.”
“How can they be missing?”
Billie shook her head. “That they're missing is the bad news. Only someone with a lot of influence could do this. This is extremely difficult to do, Ricky. Sanders Realty couldn't do this. Someone in the DC government has to be involved.”
“I knew it.” He stood up from his chair and placed his hands on his hips. “I knew it. Those motherfuckers paid someone off to get rid of those calls. I bet they did it as soon as they found out your firm was working on the case.”
“We don't know that yet.” Billie stuffed the paper in the folder and closed it. “I have a lot of work to do, but this could work in our favor.”
Ricky nodded. “I knew this was the best decision I made the second you walked in that door. I can tell from the look on your face, you're gonna get to the bottom of this.”
“I'm not a detective.” Billie was flattered by his confidence. “But the firm hires them to look into things like this. It might take a little while, but I'm going to get right on it. Do you mind if I cut our meeting short?”
When she stood up, he took a step forward, and Billie realized that she was only a foot away from him.
“As much as I enjoy spending time with you,” he said flirtatiously, “I want you to get on this now, too.”
Billie tried to ignore the little spark she felt as she took a step back. “I can show you out.”
“I know the way,” he said. He approached the door before her, placing his hand on the doorknob. “Wait a second.”
“Yes?” She stopped.
“You said something before that I need clarified.”
“Of course,” she said, opening her folder to review what little notes she had shared with him.
He reached out and closed the folder back up. His hand brushed against hers and Billie felt a little jolt of electricity run up her arm. She stepped back.
“You said earlier that you can't get involved with me while you're on the case.” His voice was quiet, but direct. “Does that mean that when this is over, I have a chance?”
Billie rolled her eyes flirtatiously even though she didn't mean to. She shouldn't do things to lead him on. “Can I please just get to my office so I can work on your case?”
He laughed, opening the door for her. He was halfway down the opposite end of the hallway before he said, “Imma take that as a yes.”
Billie froze in place, wondering who heard him and what they thought. She rushed out of the hallway before any curious people could come out to see what was going on. She stepped in the elevator and the doors closed. The doors were floor-to-ceiling mirrors and she could clearly see herself smiling from cheek to cheek.
 
Domesticity was a compromise for a modern woman. This was the excuse Erica gave herself as she lifted the precooked rotisserie chicken out of the container it came in and placed it on top of the platter. Chicken from the store and mashed potatoes from a box.
“I made the salad,” she exclaimed to the empty apartment.
She placed the chicken and the pot of mashed potatoes in the oven just to keep them warm. She looked up at the clock on her kitchen wall. Terrell would be there soon, after his first day in his newly promoted position, and she wanted to have dinner on the table and look sexy. She didn't have much time to change.
Just as she was about to rush down the hall to her bedroom, the doorbell rang.
“Shit,” she said. Today of all days, Terrell decided to be early.
She looked down at herself. She looked okay in the black slacks and red rayon short-sleeve blouse she'd worn to work, but she sure as hell wasn't looking sexy.
“Hey, bab—” She swung the door open and was stopped in her tracks as she realized it wasn't Terrell.
“Hello, Erica,” Jonah Dolan said quietly.
Jonah Dolan was a very attractive older man with a powerful presence. He looked to be in his forties even though he was a decade older. He was about six-four, with a conservative dark brown haircut with distinguished graying at the temples. His white skin had a nice warm hue to it, almost a light tan. His face was commanding and very handsome in a traditional way. He had a firm jaw line and thin lips that made him look very serious all the time.
“What are you doing here?” Her tone was more of an accusation than a question.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Erica.”
Without even thinking, Erica stepped aside. The man had a way about him and a voice that made you instinctively just do what he told you to. He made Erica almost feel guilty for questioning him.
He stepped inside, looking around the apartment. “It smells great in here. What are you cooking?”
“Dinner for me and my boyfriend.” She thought to close the door, but decided to leave it open. She wanted Jonah to know he wasn't staying long. “And I need to get back to it.”
He turned around to face her, his expression softening. “I'll only be a minute.”
“It's a minute longer than you're welcomed,” Erica said.
He looked hurt for only a moment before brushing it off. “So you're back with him. Terrell.”
“Yes, I am.” Erica placed her hands on her hips. “It's none of your business.”
He looked very disappointed. “You can forgive him, but not me?”
“Terrell owned up to his mistake,” she said. “He's not the one who went around threatening people. He's not the one who wants to keep me a secret.”
He sighed and nodded as if he accepted her judgment, knew he deserved it.
He pointed to the sofa. “Can we sit down?”
“You can sit,” she said, “but I'll stand. I'm very busy.”
“I guess we can do this standing.” He walked toward her.
Erica backed up. She wasn't sure why, but she could tell it hurt Jonah's feelings.
“I'm not going to hurt you, Erica.”
“How do I know?” she asked. “You threatened to hurt Terrell and Sherise. Why not me?”
“You're my daughter,” he said defiantly.
Erica stood her ground, showing she was unmoved by his appeal to a meaningless genetic connection as if it meant they had a relationship.

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