Layover Rules

Chapter Nineteen



On a Wednesday night I stopped and got a large pizza—all the way, hold the anchovies—and went home to drown my problems in cheese and grease. Not the most pleasant description, but I assure you it was just what I needed at that moment.

What I wouldn’t need was the bloating the next morning, but I was feeling down and I wanted to indulge myself and it was worth it at the time.

And of course I paid for it, just as expected, but I managed to slog through the next morning at work.

When I left for lunch—swearing to get a salad with low-fat dressing and no meat, along with water to drink—I ran into Corrine in the elevator.

“Hi, Blair.”

I looked at her, unsure of how to handle the situation. On the one hand, she’d threatened to sink me professionally, but then she’d held back, not saying anything. What I didn’t want was anything friendly or personal. I just wanted an answer.

“Why did you do it?” I asked.

“Why did I confront you or why didn’t I say anything to Beth or Stein?” She looked embarrassed, something I’d previously thought she was incapable of.

“Both.”

“Does it matter?” She sighed. “We both got what we wanted.”

Yes, it mattered. I wanted her to explain herself, answer for her actions. I wanted to see her squirm and feel uncomfortable the whole time we were in the elevator. Maybe even longer, if I could make it happen.

Or…did I? I not only go the job I wanted, I got one that I hadn’t even expected. And it was a slightly more prestigious position than Corrine’s, at least symbolically, since we’d both worked under Beth and Beth had chosen me, not Corinne, to fill her seat. I’d also learned something from the experience, and decided to tell her.

“I guess you’re right. We both got something out of it,” I said, smiling and looking like I was about to say something friendly, maybe share a victory high-five with her or something. We reached the first floor, the elevator dinged, and just before the doors opened, I said, “Hey, Corrine? I just want to thank you for teaching me not to underestimate people.”

I watched her face as she smiled, seeming not to get it at first, but then I saw her expression change and her smile fall away as she realized that I’d just insulted her.



. . . . .



“Now that you’re single again, you’re not any help, you’re competition,” Alicia said. It was Saturday night and we were waiting in line to get into a club to see some live music, have a few cocktails and, according to Alicia, “find a couple of guys we’ll like from a distance, and then they’ll come talk to us and we’ll wish we’d stayed at home and decided to become cat ladies before we even turned thirty.”

“I’m not anyone’s competition,” I told her. “You don’t think I’m serious, but I am. No guys for a year. At least.”

She laughed. “Right. It’s been, what, three weeks since you last spoke to Sam? Fifty bucks says you won’t go four months like you did the last time. You’ll find somebody. I’m the one who won’t be with a guy for at least a year, and it won’t be for lack of trying.”

The line finally started moving and within a few minutes, we’d secured a booth and ordered our drinks. The music started, we listened for the first few songs, decided we didn’t like it that much, and went down the block to a dance club.

Alicia saw two guys she’d met recently while catering a wedding. One of them, Adam, was clearly interested in her. The other, a guy named Ryan, was quiet, even shy maybe, and seemed to be along just for the ride. I knew the feeling.

They were a few years younger than us, but that didn’t matter. Although, they still had what I call “frat haircuts,” a little too long in the bangs, making it necessary for them to swing their heads to the side to get the tips of their bangs out of their eyes. Annoying, but they’d outgrow it soon enough, and it wasn’t like I’d be around them anyway.

Other than that, Ryan was good company, and after a couple more drinks I asked him what he did in the city.

“I’m new here,” he said. “Originally from New Jersey.”

I asked him where, and when he told me, it turned out he was from a city near where I grew up. In fact, our high schools were rivals.

“I didn’t care much about the rivalry,” he said. “I was never into sports.”

“Really? You look athletic. You must work out.”

Oh, Jesus. Did I really just say that? I thought it probably came across as a cheesy pick-up line, but he didn’t seem to take it that way. Ryan humbly shrugged off the compliment, and told me he was much more into the arts. He’d been in plays and for a while he was in a jazz band.

I found myself starting to like this guy, despite having sworn off men for a year not even two hours ago.

“What brought you to the city?” I asked him.

“Work. I just got a job at Landley-Morris.”

I shook my head. “Sorry, never heard of it.”

“That’s okay. It’s a small firm.”

“Oh. Lawyer?”

He finished his sip of beer and put the bottle down. “Investment. Basically what I do is—”

“I know all about it,” I interrupted.

Was it going to be impossible to escape Trevor? Everywhere I turned, something came up that reminded me of him.

It was rude, and I knew it wasn’t right, but I lost all interest in talking with Ryan after that. I met his questions with short answers, sometimes without even making eye contact with him. Eventually the conversation turned into him making observations about the music, the lighting, the bottles lined up behind the bar, and other trivial stuff, all of which garnered responses from me of “Yeahs” or “Uh-huhs” and, worse, something that even resembled a grunt once.

Having thoughts of Trevor intrude on my evening made me eager to call it a night. I just wanted to go home.

I watched how easily Alicia mixed it up with Adam, a virtual stranger. There was lots of laughing complete with throwing her head back, lots of wide eyes and nodding when he spoke, and more touching of his arm than any woman can pull off without giving a clear signal that she’s interested.

It made me feel even worse. Not in a jealous way, by any stretch. More of a feeling of impending doom. Was this what dating was going to be like from now on? Would I end up jumping from guy to guy after going on test-run dates? And even though this sounds bad because she was my best friend, I couldn’t help but think about having to go through what Alicia was enduring in her search for Mr. Right Now, much less Mr. Right.

I hated the prospect of a near-future like that, and I hated even more the fact that I was looking at my best friend that way.

Maybe it was the alcohol intensifying the recent turmoil. Whatever the case, I didn’t like where I was in my personal life.

Yeah, it was definitely the alcohol, because I had almost forgotten that I already had the solution: No guys; focus on career.

When Adam and Ryan were about to call it a night, Alicia took out her phone, handed it to Adam, and I figured he was putting his number in her contact list. It reminded me of how Sam had done the same thing with my phone, only he had done it secretly. It put me in a wistful mood, and all I wanted to do was go to sleep, wake up the next morning, another day closer to putting all of that regret behind me.

We went back to Alicia’s apartment, and I decided to spend the night. I had watched what I drank that night, so I wasn’t drunk, and thankfully not feeling sick, but I was too tired to go home.

We sat on the couch and flipped through the channels, finally settling on Saturday Night Live.

“It’s the Weekend Update segment,” I said. “The only part of the show that’s any good.”

Alicia agreed, and we watched the rest of the segment. When it was over, she muted the TV.

“I think I’m going to see Adam,” she said.

“Who?”

“Adam. The guy I was talking to tonight. He’s funny, so that’s good. And he’s smart. Did I tell you he works as a producer at CBS News?”

“No, but that’s interesting.”

“Yeah, I think so. But I’ll have to talk him into getting a big boy’s haircut.”

“Yeah, I figured that would be part of the deal. You were laying it on kind of heavy tonight.”

She looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it was obvious that you like him. And you didn’t meet him on a dating site, so that’s good.”

She put her foot up on the coffee table, accidentally kicking a candle over. “Oh, crap. Glad that wasn’t lit.” She didn’t make a move to pick it up.

She repositioned herself on the couch so she was lying on her half. “Before I fall asleep right here, tell me what you’re going to do about Sam.”

“Nothing.” The word flew out of my mouth immediately. No doubt in my mind whatsoever. There was nothing left to do. It was over.

I looked over at Alicia, whose eyes were closed. I wasn’t sure if she was thinking about what I’d just said, or if she’d fallen asleep that fast. I let it be.



. . . . .



A week later, I was on my way to work when Mr. Rantham’s secretary called and asked me if I could make some time to come by his office that morning.

“I can try,” I said. “What’s this about?”

“Mr. Rantham wants to go over something with you. It’s nothing to worry about.”

I told her I’d be there ASAP, called Beth to let her know I’d be a little late, and headed over to his office.

He took me in right away and we sat in the highback leather chairs across from each other. He had a carafe of coffee there, and offered me a cup.

“Thanks for coming in. I apologize for the short notice, but I think you’ll be happy about this.”

“No problem. Kathy told me not to worry but I was so nervous on my way over.”

Mr. Rantham smiled and winked. “Maybe I should have had her make decaf?”

I appreciated his easy-going touch. “No, this is fine.”

“Well, let’s get right down to it then. I’ve been contacted by the U.S. Attorney’s office. The federal prosecutors are considering a plea deal in Trevor’s case.”

I knew what that meant, mostly from crime dramas on TV, never having been involved in anything this high-stakes before and hoping to never be again. I wasn’t sure what it had to do with me, though, and why it was so important that Mr. Rantham called me in to discuss it.

He continued, “I don’t know how much time he would do under the agreement, but in my experience I can’t see it being less than thirty years.”

That stunned me. I knew Trevor was in big trouble, and I figured he would have a heavy sentence, but hearing it spoken out loud from someone as experienced as Mr. Rantham made it real, somehow, in a way that it hadn’t been before.

“So,” he went on, “Trevor would be in his mid-sixties before he would be eligible for parole. Can you live with that?”

“What does it have to do with me?”

“There’s a provision of the plea offer regarding your case.” Mr. Rantham explained that the attempted kidnapping and stalking charges were state charges, completely separate from the federal charges related to his financial Ponzi scheme. “Trevor’s attorneys are asking for you to drop the kidnapping and stalking.”

I sat back and took a deep breath. “What would that mean? That he’s going to just get away with it?”

Mr. Rantham frowned and nodded.

I said, “I can’t believe that.”

He leaned forward and placed his coffee cup on the table. “There’s a positive aspect to this that I think you should consider.”

I felt my pulse increasing, angry that Trevor was trying to wiggle his way out of what he’d almost done to me. “I’d love to hear it.”

“If he gets a plea deal, you’re done with any and all legal aspects of this and it will never come up again.”

“Oh…” I immediately started to relax a little.

This was it. My chance to avoid having to testify in both the federal case and my case. I wouldn’t have to sit in the courtroom, up on the stand, having to look at Trevor and, worse, having him glare at me the whole time. Twice. I’d have to do that twice. In two different courtrooms, at two different times.

No way. I wanted it over with. I wanted him out of my life forever, and this was the best shot I’d get at having that happen.

Mr. Rantham’s voice brought me back to the situation at hand. “I think we should take some time—”

“No,” I said. “Sorry to cut you off, but I’m totally on board now.”

He nodded. “Okay then. There are some papers you’ll have to sign. We can do that now or—”

“Yeah, let’s do it now.”

“Good choice, Blair.” His reassuring look made me feel better. “For what it’s worth, I would have sat here all day trying to convince you to sign the papers if you had said no.”

While I had been firm the night of the incident about pressing charges against Trevor no matter what the consequences for me, by this point I just wanted him out of my life for good. Now I could avoid not only him, but the intrusive publicity that would have come with it. There was little doubt that my case against Trevor would have made the news, considering he was now a notorious criminal defendant in one of the biggest financial scam cases in a while.

I sipped my coffee and said, “Does this happen a lot?”

“Plea deals? Yes. Although this is pretty unique, with the feds and the state involved. Not my first time, though, by any stretch. I’ll get the papers.”

He stood and walked over to his desk. I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, calming myself down, telling myself it was over. Finished. I was finally free of Trevor. When I first decided to leave him, I knew it would be a struggle to become completely free of his clutches, but there was no way I could have predicted it would happen like this.

Mr. Rantham was coming back to the sitting area, saying, “By the way, you’ll hear a lot about this on the news in the coming weeks, but I’m going to tell you one thing that came out in my discussions with the U.S. Attorney.”

“Okay…”

“How much did you think Trevor was worth?” He looked at me, eyes wide.

I shrugged. “I think he used to say something like seven hundred million.”

Mr. Rantham chuckled. “Well, as we know he wasn’t really worth anything, since his whole business was a scam. But in terms of how much cash he had access to at any given time, seven hundred million isn’t even close.” He looked at me.

I looked back, and jutted my head forward as if to say: Don’t keep me in suspense!

“Care to take a guess?” he said.

I shook my head.

Mr. Rantham said, slowly: “Two point six billion.”