Nothing to Lose (2 page)

“I'll have to discuss this with my husband,” she said. “I assume this will require more of my time and hours.”

“And travel,” Northman said. “All of that. We're on full go now. No stopping us on our way to the White House.”

As he turned to leave, with LaKeisha rushing after him, it really hit Sherise what had just happened. Of course, she'd expected Northman to ask her to join the campaign formally. However, now that he had, it dawned on her. If he won, he would be the president of the United States, and she would be in the White House. That was the top. That was the height of everything. She would be one of the most powerful people in Washington, D.C.

Not bad for a girl from Southeast D.C. whom everyone expected to be another sad statistic.

 

“Are you gonna finish that?” Lane Redmond asked as he pointed across the table at Brasserie Beck on K Street in D.C.

Thirty-year-old Billie Carter laughed as she slid what was left of her croque-monsieur with French fries across the table to her friend and client.

“It's like law school all over again,” she said. “You used to eat all my food then too.”

Billie and Lane had met when they worked together on the
American Criminal Law Review
at Georgetown Law. She hadn't expected to have much in common with Lane at first. She was a poor African-American girl from southeastern D.C., who had to fight and scrap for everything she had. She had committed herself to fighting for the voiceless and powerless who were railroaded by a flawed criminal justice system.

On the other hand, Lane was a blond-haired, blue-eyed trust fund kid from private schools in New York, who wanted to follow in his rich daddy's footsteps defending the richest of the rich, who were “unjustly targeted by a flawed justice system.”

Despite coming from, and intending to go into, two different worlds, they clicked instantly and had kept in touch since graduating.

“I was doing you a favor,” Lane said. “I wanted to make sure you kept that perfect, little, petite figure. I see you have. I'll take some credit for that.”

Billie had to laugh at that. Yes, she was still the petite, dark chocolate, beautiful woman she had been back in school. Her looks were defined by fine, feminine features, large, mesmerizing eyes, and short, curly hair. She didn't look much older than she had when she'd graduated either. She had aged immensely on the inside, though. Some of that, Lane knew about. Some of it, he didn't, and he wasn't going to.

 

It had been a rough year for Billie. After trying desperately to move on from her divorce with celebrated D.C. lawyer Porter Haas, whom she had also met in law school, Billie continued to find herself caught in his web. This was mostly because Porter, despite cheating on her with a blond bimbo from his law firm, refused to let her go. It was also because of Porter's teenaged daughter, Tara. Billie loved Tara and refused to cut her out of her life, despite the problems it caused with Porter.

Her ex enjoyed making her life miserable, manipulating situations and circumstances to keep himself in her life. He wasn't above using his daughter to keep it going. When he realized that he couldn't get Billie in his bed anymore, he turned on her and sent Tara away at a crucial moment in the girl's life. Porter had practically destroyed her relationship with the child she thought of as her own daughter.

Meanwhile, Billie compounded her messed-up personal life by placing her career, which was promising and successful, in the gutter as well. She'd been so excited last year when she'd gotten her first pro bono case through the prestigious big law firm that she worked at. It brought back her days of being a public defender just out of law school—days she had to leave behind for a job that paid the bills her divorce had left her.

Why did her first client have to be the seductive and handsome Ricky Williams? He'd flirted with her from day one—and she hadn't discouraged it as much as she should have. She knew it was an ethical disaster, but she assumed she had the willpower to resist the man who reminded her so much of the father she'd loved and lost. Not to mention the fact that she was passionate about defending him against the local housing authority, which was using its power to steal the property that he used as a shelter for immigrants, who were seeking asylum, in order to shut it down.

She'd won her case and Ricky was able to keep his shelter. In the meantime, she'd allowed her emotions to get the best of her and had slept with him. This was just before she found out that he was involved in local gang and drug activity. It was an ugly situation, only made uglier by her impropriety.

She had a chance to walk away from this clean, if she never told her bosses. She'd told her best friends, her girls, Sherise and Erica, of course. She told them everything. They had both encouraged her to thank God that she'd won the case and Ricky was on his way to jail. Although Billie couldn't reveal what she'd known about him, the district attorney's office was able to turn one of his drug mules against him.

With him out of the way, Billie would keep her mouth shut; and if Ricky said anything, she could always deny it. But that wasn't who Billie was. She couldn't keep lies and secrets. She knew what was right and what was wrong, and she needed to sleep at night. She was a lawyer who knew she had a moral, ethical, and legal obligation to tell her bosses. So she did.

She wasn't fired and she wasn't disbarred, but she was reprimanded. Her standing at the firm was never going to be the same. Once she'd come on, they had all thought Billie would be a partner there, but there was no chance of that now. Just going to work every day was painful for her—embarrassing. She'd lost respect and trust; and it was clear to her that it would take a very long time, if even that, to gain those back. So she did what she'd assumed her bosses had hoped she would do and quit.

It had been pretty difficult for her since then. She was taking on contract work and ad hoc public defense cases. Public defense cases paid about $1,200 each. The few bright spots were some old friends from law school whom she'd kept in touch with, like Lane, who hired her for high-paying jobs. She'd just completed an arbitration agreement for his financial services company, Agencis.

“I can look after my own figure,” Billie said. “You wanna help me out, just hire me again. That sounds like a better deal.”

“Well, you did great work,” Lane said. “They signed the agreement right away. Can't really calculate how much you'll save us if anything comes up and we can avoid court.”

“It was easy,” Billie said confidently. “I've been either fighting or enforcing arbitration agreements for quite a few years now.”

“It shows.” There was a short pause as he leaned back in his chair. He brushed his expensively tailored suit with his napkin before setting it down. “Just how much work do you have now, Billie?”

Never let them see you sweat.
Billie knew that. She finished the sip of her lemonade and smiled. “I'm keeping busy, but I can take on more.”

He leaned forward, looking into her eyes. “I think you're unhappy, Billie.”

“You don't know me that well,” Billie said, even though he was right. She'd had a rough six months . . . a rough year.

“Okay,” he said. “Then you're probably too busy to accept the associate general counsel position we have open.”

Billie lost her cool for a second as her eyes widened. She pulled herself together quickly, but it was too late. He'd caught her.

“Don't play games with me, Lane,” she warned.

“I know you've been waiting for the dust to settle before looking for a permanent job,” Lane said. “I think six months is long enough, don't you?”

Rumors had been swirling as to why she'd left her firm. Despite an endless amount of law firms in Washington, D.C., it was still a pretty small community—especially in white-collar criminal defense. She wasn't talking and, hopefully, her former employers hadn't talked. “Starve a rumor and eventually it will go away” was what Sherise had taught her and she'd listened.

“I don't know,” Billie said. “Do your bosses know about this? Sorry to be blunt, but you're just an associate general counsel yourself, Lane. Do you have the power to make an offer?”

“That's fair,” he said. “But, yes, I've discussed it with them. We need another person and they all like you. You've proven yourself. That means more to them than anything.”

“Well,” Billie said, trying her best to seem uncertain, “it's something I'd have to consider.”

“Salary plus bonus potential could reach two hundred grand,” Lane said matter-of-factly. “But, yeah, go ahead and take some time to consider it.”

Billie rolled her eyes. She wasn't fooling him. He knew she needed the money and needed back in the game in a more permanent, stable basis to get her mojo back. Her life was out of whack. Although she was hopelessly unlucky in love, she could at least have her career back on track.

 

When twenty-seven-year-old Erica Kent walked into Oy-amel, an expensive Mexican restaurant on Seventh Street, downtown D.C., she'd felt immediately out of place. She looked fine in her black boatneck tunic top and khaki pants, coupled with black pumps, but everyone there was dressed in designer suits. Everywhere she looked, she could see
D.C.
power and money, something this girl from Southeast
D.C.
was still not used to.

As she approached the hostess—a pretty black girl, with a side ponytail and a smile that seemed frozen in place—Erica was about to give her name, but it clearly wasn't necessary.

“Hello, Ms. Kent,” she said in what sounded like a Haitian accent. She quickly came around her stand to greet her. “You are Ms. Kent, right?”

“Um . . . yes.” Not a trusting soul, Erica didn't like that this woman assumed she knew who she was, but she was sure it was only because she had been described to a tee so as to be rushed hurriedly out of view.

“Your party is waiting,” she said. “Please follow me.”

Her assumption was right. As she was rushed through the restaurant to a private corner booth, Erica knew exactly what this was about. The person in the booth waiting for her—her father—didn't want anyone seeing him having a private lunch with her. She found it hilarious, considering he'd been begging her to meet him for weeks now.

“Hello, Erica.” Jonah Nolan leaned up from his seat on the other end of the booth as the hostess gestured for Erica to sit down.

Jonah Nolan, U.S. secretary of defense, was one of the most powerful men in the world. He was incredibly popular among D.C.'s power circle. He always looked the bit. He was a very attractive man in his fifties, with a powerful presence. He was tall, had a warm pink hue to his skin, and dark hair, which was graying at the temples. He had a firm jawline and thin lips, which made him look very serious all the time.

Erica sat down before responding. “Hi, Jonah. Nice and private, I see.”

She could tell from his reaction he was tired of her saying things like that, but she didn't care. If he was intent on her being his little secret, she was going to make him suffer for it. He was lucky she even agreed to see him.

Erica hadn't wanted much to do with Jonah, ever since finding out almost two years ago that he was her father. He'd been a rich, privileged kid who had volunteered at the same hospital where Erica's mother was a nurse. They'd had a brief summer romance, which Erica's mother never told her about, and it wasn't more than a fling to Jonah. Jonah left for the military and never looked back. Her mother had never told him she was pregnant, so Erica had spent the first twenty-five years of her life believing her real father was the same deadbeat no-gooder as younger brother Nate's.

It was chance that Jonah found out about her. He was assistant secretary of defense and his office at the Pentagon, where Erica worked, was looking for a new assistant to his administrative manager. Erica's middle name was Achelle, which was her mother's first name. That, plus the same last name as her mother's, piqued his interest.

He'd realized she was his daughter; but by then, Jonah was a powerful man with a political future, a blue-blooded socialite wife, and two kids. He was rumored to be on the path to the White House. A biracial love child was not a good look.

But, according to Jonah, he wanted his daughter near. He had Erica hired, but immediately she knew something was wrong. He was too nice to her, too involved in her life, especially too disapproving of her boyfriend of several years, Terrell Nicolli. Curious as to why Jonah was so eager to have him out of her life, Erica did some investigating and found out that Jonah was her father. Prior to this discovery, Erica had already found out Jonah was having an affair with her friend Sherise. She'd lost respect for him and was devastated to find out the ultimate truth.

She also found him to be a ruthless, calculating man—a person who did whatever he wanted. Anyone who crossed him paid a serious price. Erica hated him for it, but she couldn't ignore that she was curious to find out about him. All her life she had dreamed of having a relationship with her father, but she never imagined this.

“This secrecy is to avoid rumors of an affair,” he said. “You're an attractive young woman and I'm a very public man.”

“With a reputation as a ladies' man,” she added. “Well earned.”

“Let's not pretend I'm the only one here who would like to keep our relationship on the down low,” Jonah said.

“Down low?” Erica laughed as she spread her napkin on her lap. “What is that—an attempt to sound street so you can connect with me?”