In Your Corner (25 page)

“The day you left Farnsworth & Tillman was the day I canceled my contract. Because I know what kind of person you are. The best kind. The kind that will swap out a brand-new couch for a Victorian monstrosity to make someone happy. Jake knows that or he wouldn’t be beating people up or driving out here to fix things between you. Someone cares about you that much, the file won’t change the way he feels. But he’s the kind of guy who needs a message hammered home.”

“The couch isn’t that bad.”

“It looks like shit, sweetheart, but it’s the most comfortable couch I ever sat on.” He sighs and his face softens. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. But better me than anyone else. There is a lot in that file, but there is also a lot missing. Most times, I reported I couldn’t get a good camera angle to assess what went on behind closed doors, or I reported that I lost sight of you during surveillance. Sometimes, one entry was as good as three.”

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I say, “Thank you for that.”

Ray gives me a curt nod and pulls his jacket off the coat rack. “Seeing as you’re heading home, I’ll be going now.”

I wait until he’s through the doorway before I call out, “Ray?”

He looks back over his shoulder.

“See you tomorrow.”

EVERYONE CHEERS

The next day is a flurry of activity. Couriers arrive with packages of documents courtesy of an irate Farnsworth. The settlement offer was genuine. Reid told him I turned it down. Partly true. I would never have accepted his first offer. But I suspect he didn’t tell Farnsworth we didn’t conduct any further negotiations.

Farnsworth doesn’t like to be turned down. If I thought he was playing hardball before, it is nothing compared to the sea of paperwork on my desk. He must have had a dozen associates working all night long, and there is just no possible way I can deal with everything he is throwing at me before the deadlines. Not without help.

Penny organizes, catalogs, and diarizes like there is no tomorrow. But by the end of the day, even she knows we are underwater.

“We can’t do it.” She sighs and bangs her forehead gently on her desk. “We would need to hire at least six contract lawyers.”

“That’s the power of a big firm. That’s why people pay the big money. They can make the irritating cases go away simply by overwhelming the opposition with paper.”

When the sixth courier arrives, I send Penny home. Then I draft up the settlement agreement for the amount Farnsworth offered and type Farnsworth & Westwood at the bottom. I stare at it for the longest time. All it would take is a signature, and I can move on with my life. No more Farnsworth and his sea of paper. No more fruitless attempts to interview witnesses who have been blackmailed to keep quiet. Farnsworth will continue his reign of terror and I will be able to start again. But this time without Jake.

What would he do in my situation?

What do fighters do? They fight. Jake would never give up, no matter how dire the circumstances. He would find a way to break the hold, even if he was locked in submission.

A soft knock on the door startles me. I glance up and there, silhouetted in the setting sun, is my mom.

She is impeccably dressed, as usual, in beige pants, a soft pink blouse, and a long cream trench coat. Her shoes and handbag would put Sandy to shame. Her neat bob swings gently around her face as she walks into my office.

As usual, she doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Someone couriered this to your father and I at work.” She slides a disk across my desk and my heart sinks. I don’t need to take it from her to know what it is. Evil Reid made good on his threat. And, of course, he didn’t just have a hard copy of his file.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” She takes a seat across from my desk and drums her fingers on the armrest. “If we had given you the love and attention you needed as a child, you wouldn’t have had to look for it elsewhere.”

My heart squeezes in my chest. “You can’t take the blame for my choices.”

“You made those choices because you had to.” She sucks in her lips and sighs. “You were so competent, even as a child. So independent. You never asked for our help, never seemed to need us. You made it too easy to let you deal with things on your own. But I often wondered if it was the chicken or the egg. If you had been a different person, would we have treated you the same?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I don’t remember being any other way.”

We sit in silence for a long moment, and then Mom leaves her seat and wanders around the office, trailing her fingers over the polished bookshelves and the ornate moldings around the windows.

“Believe it or not, we are very proud of you. Starting up your own firm, obtaining the financing, finding clients. I’ve been following your case against Farnsworth through the court documents. I never believed his defense. Although I wasn’t there for you, I know my daughter. And I know Farnsworth. I believed you at the hospital when you said he propositioned you.”

She believes me. Afraid of embarrassing myself with the kind of emotional outburst frowned upon in my family, I just nod.

“Your lawsuit was very brave, but also naïve,” Mom continues. “As a junior associate, you’re only starting to learn the ropes. But you had to know he would use every resource at his disposal to make you drop the case.”

“I didn’t think it would get this bad.” I point to the pile of papers on my desk. “He just sent those today. And he always seems to be one step ahead of me.”

Sympathy fills her eyes. “That’s just the start.”

I look down at the settlement offer on my desk and then I tear it in half. “Mom…” I draw in a ragged breath. “I need help.”

“I know,” she says softly. “That’s why I came.”

***

The next week passes in a blur. Mom lends me the money to cover the cost of hiring contract lawyers to help with the paperwork until the sale of my grandmother’s house goes through. She finds the time to stop by every day to help me with strategy and tactics. Ray charms the pants off her in under five minutes, and she never once asks him to take his feet off the coffee table, nor does she ask why he lives on our client couch. She brings him coffee, buys his paper for him, and smiles every time he calls her
ma’am
. She does suggest the blue corporate couches would look better than Ray’s comfy Victorian, but I tell her that couch is special and even if Ray finds a new place to hang his hat, I’m keeping it.

But even with Mom’s help, Farnsworth predicts my every move. Except for the two witnesses who gave evidence early in the case, everyone else is too scared to talk. Ray drags his surveillance friend in to check things out, and they discover our computers have been hacked. Not only that, they trace the hack to Farnsworth & Tillman.

Ray explodes and stomps around the office cursing and muttering to himself about how only Farnsworth and Reid would have the nerve to pull this off. Mom tells him to watch his language. He tells her he’s been in places so bad the words he’s saying would be considered a lullaby. Mom says that may be true, but she’s over twenty years older than him and she expects a certain propriety in her presence. She suggests he curse outside. He says, “Yes, ma’am,” and storms out the door.

As soon as he steps outside, Mom starts laughing. She laughs until her eyes water. I’ve never seen my mother laugh like that before. She says although she still doesn’t fully approve of my choice of friends, Ray’s not too bad. My eyes water too.

***

With the Farnsworth file under semicontrol, Ray plans a surveillance mission, trailing Bob and Clive around the city. He got a tip that they frequent a boxing gym, and he’s pretty sure they’ll have to take off their casts to fight. Although Ray wants to go alone, I insist on tagging along. After reading his reports for so many years, I want a taste of the action. The new Amanda isn’t tied to her office. Sometimes she likes a little bit of fun, and what is more fun than going on a stakeout with Ray?

We trail Bob and Clive around the city in Ray’s Jeep until they pull up in front of an all-night boxing gym. Ray finds a side door, and we slip inside and hide behind a wall of lockers. A pang of nostalgia fills me when I see the makeshift boxing ring in the center. I miss Redemption. But more than that, I miss Jake with an ache that reaches into my soul.

Why the hell have I been staying away from two of the most important things in my life? If I want to embrace the Amanda who asks for help, associates with unsavory characters, runs a law firm with mostly pro bono files, and goes on stakeouts in the middle of the night, I need to embrace that part of myself too. I can’t give up. I’ve dishonored myself by staying away. And that has to change.

A cough from Ray wakes me up, and I turn my attention back to the ring. A middle-aged redhead with curves to die for throws her arms around Bob and greets him with a big smooch. Ray snorts under his breath, and I jab my elbow in his ribs to keep him quiet.

“Silence. Name of the game,” I whisper.

I am treated with the scowl to end all scowls. I stifle a laugh.

Bob climbs into the ring and peels off his shirt. Then he peels off his casts and tosses them to the floor. Over in the far corner, Clive does the same. My heart leaps in my throat and I film the action on my phone while Ray takes pictures of them punching and grappling, unbroken arms flying in the air. The redhead slips into Bob’s corner and cheers him on.

And suddenly, I know how to get Jake back. I will be in his corner. Every day. Every way. I will be in his corner.

In my excitement, I drop my phone. When I step into the hallway to pick it up, Bob turns in my direction. His eyes widen and he shouts for Clive. Ray grabs my hand and yanks me up the stairs.

“Discretion. Name of the game.”

Bob and Clive chase us with a speed and agility belied by their supposedly broken arms. Ray and I race for the door and hit the pavement running. We throw ourselves into the vehicle and Ray peels away from the curb, burning rubber like he’s been doing it all his life.

“My God.” My heart pounds in my chest. “Look what I’ve missed out on all those years at Farnsworth and Tillman. This sure beats an afternoon of drafting documents.”

“Fuck, yeah.” Ray squeezes my shoulder, the extent of his excitement.

The next day, Ray prepares a report setting out the details of the castless fight. Penny and I put together a photo slideshow and edit my video clip. We spend more time laughing than working. I send a copy of Ray’s report to Simmons & Clarkson, the attorneys hired by Bob and Clive. Frank Simmons calls ten minutes later to set up a settlement meeting.

High fives all around.

***

A few days later, I pack all my documents into my bag and drive out to the settlement meeting at Simmons & Clarkson. I have arranged through Shayla for the Redemption fighters to meet me there. Jake’s attorney has given me authority to represent him and Jake at the meeting.

Anxiety ratchets through me as I drive. I haven’t seen anyone from Redemption since Jake saw me with Evil Reid at my office. I imagine he told them what happened, and I imagine their derisory faces when we meet. By the time I get to the office, I am so nauseous I can’t get out of the car. With my forehead resting on the steering wheel, I struggle to calm myself with slow, deep breaths. What will I say to everyone? How should I act?

A knock on the window startles me and my head jerks up. Rampage. He’s smiling a goofy Rampage smile. “’Manda!’” he shouts. Then he waves a giant arm in the air. “Guys, ’manda’s here!” He opens the car door and pulls me out and into a huge bear hug. I hug him back. Suddenly I am swarmed by fighters. My hair is ruffled. I am squeezed. My back is thumped. Someone cops a feel of my ass. Tears leak from my eyes. They don’t hate me. I’m still part of the family. Everything’s going to be okay.

After Bob and Clive arrive, we all squeeze into Frank Simmons’s boardroom. I set up the projection equipment, and he pulls down the screen. Rampage asks for popcorn. I tell him he isn’t allowed any carbs until after the big fight event coming up, but if he’s good, he can have an extra scoop of waxy vol in his protein shake. He thinks I’m being serious and thanks me.

The movie starts. Everyone claps and cheers when Bob and Clive make an appearance in the ring. Someone whistles when Bob’s girlfriend gives him a kiss, and Bob growls.

“Wait for it,” I whisper. “Wait for it…”

Then my favorite movie scene ever. Bob and Clive strip off the fake casts in preparation for the fight. The room erupts into chaos. I have to pause the video so everyone can high-five everyone else. When I turn the video back on, the now cheerful audience jeers and catcalls at the poor fight techniques and the shoddy state of the ring. The video ends with a montage of photos of Bob and Clive, castless and free, which Penny and I have set to “So Long and Good-bye” by Deception. Blade Saw wipes a tear from his eye and tells me it was a beautiful film. Obsidian is disappointed I didn’t ask him to narrate.

Bob and Clive make a hasty exit with their attorney. A few minutes later, the attorney returns with an offer to withdraw the lawsuit and pay our costs. There is a unanimous acceptance of the offer, a frenzy of feet pounding down the stairs, and then a riot in the street as the fighters go crazy. I am hoisted in the air and tossed around like a grapple dummy. Rampage squeezes me so hard, my ribs crack.

“’Manda, ’manda, ’manda.” He gets everyone to chant. Fuzzy suggests we keep it down or someone might call the police. Obsidian yells “Fuzzy,” and Homicide Hank collapses in hysterics.

We retire to the Protein Palace for a celebration. I order a big plate of grass with a side of steamed veg. I drink shot after shot of slime and waxy vol. It doesn’t taste so bad.

The only thing missing from this perfect moment is Jake.

***

The next night, I return to Redemption.

“’Manda.” Rampage ruffles my hair. “We missed you. Good to see you back. I told Fuzzy you were coming. He was really pleased. He rubbed his hands together and smiled like this.” He gives me the most evil, terrifying smile I have ever seen.

With a gasp of horror, I step back toward the door. But I am too late to run.

“WESTWOOD,” Fuzzy bellows from the gym. “I can see you. Don’t you even
think
of running away. You get your sorry ass in here now. That’s an order.”

“Sir. Yes, sir.”

“Don’t worry, ’manda.” Rampage pats me on the back. “We’re family here. We won’t let him hurt you.” He pauses and grins. “Much.”

After I change, I sneak into the back of Get Fit or Die and pray Fuzzy doesn’t notice me until well after class.

“Westwood. Front and center.”

Stomach clenched, I jog up to the front of the class. Fuzzy throws a deceptively friendly arm around my shoulders. “Westwood here missed almost a month of classes. What do we think of that?”

“Sir. Unacceptable, sir,” the sycophantic class yells, no doubt grateful to be spared Fuzzy’s evil attentions.

“Who thinks she should get down on the mat and give us fifty to prove she’s still fit enough to attend this class?”

Everyone cheers. Even me. Because
ha
ha
Fuzzy, I might not have been coming to Redemption, but every night I did my push-ups.

I position myself on the mat, take a deep breath, and go for it. By the time I hit thirty-five, my muscles are feeling the burn. At forty, I’m starting to tremble. Forty-five and sweat drips off my forehead. But I force myself to keep going. The class cheers me on. Unbelievably, Fuzzy squats down beside me and, in a low voice, says I’m doing great and he’s proud of me.