I want to tell her to fuck off, but I can’t say a thing. My mouth opens and closes. And opens and closes. And… nothing comes out.
She starts to walk out but then turns back to me with an evil smile and adds, “By the way, Malcolm said, and I quote, ‘Get your ass upstairs now.’ The partners are waiting to see you.”
Fuck. Fuck!
You are in some deep shit.
I close my eyes, resigned that I have to trudge upstairs with coffee stains on my clothes and my face all splotchy. Quickly, I reach for the compact in my purse.
Jesus, the horror.
Mascara is smudged under my eyes, and my nose is bright red. Manically, I blot my face with powder before I button up my suit jacket. At least you can’t see the coffee stains on my blouse now.
Realizing I’ll be late to meet Josh, I send him a quick text letting him know.
When I head out into the hall, I’m in a daze. Will they fire me? My lifelong goal of being an attorney may not be everything I dreamed it would be, but I’ve worked damn hard to get here.
As I round the corner, Nathan is heading into his office, and he pauses to give me a somber smile. Damn, does everyone know that I’m headed to my own funeral?
“Hang in there, Evelyn,” he says quietly.
I nod, grateful that he’s not giving me the snide treatment I got from Angela. “Want my ficus tree if I get canned?” The very idea makes bile burn the back of my throat, but I swallow hard and somehow manage to keep my breakfast down.
He chuckles. “Nah. I’d only kill it. Besides, they won’t fire you.” He leans closer and whispers, “Remind them that they want the Cartwright business. Use it as leverage.”
Is that the only card I have to play? I don’t want to use Josh’s family for job security. Maybe it’s a foolish notion. I might have gotten my foot in the door because Malcolm knew me when I was little, but I’ve busted my ass the last three years to earn this position, and I want to keep it because I’ve paid my dues. Not because I’m dating a Cartwright.
My eyes water. Josh and I never resolved our argument from this weekend, and before we could talk about it again—calmly and rationally this time—Gary the Gossip’s article imploded our lives. A sinking feeling weighs my shoulders. Will Josh and I be able to survive this?
Blinking quickly, I thank Nathan for the encouragement and drag myself up the staircase. When I knock on the conference door, one of the partners opens the door and motions for me to come in.
“Evelyn, grab a seat,” Malcolm says from the other side of the room.
There’s only one chair available, and it’s positioned at the very middle of the long table.
The partners—all men—and Malcolm’s secretary, who is taking notes, stare back at me.
I sit and force myself to meet their eyes. They’re my jury, and as every attorney knows, if your jurors can’t look into your eyes when the verdict is read, you’re fucked.
My heart sinks when most of them look away. One shakes his head. Another one blatantly stares at my chest.
Finally, my eyes meet Malcolm’s, but his grim expression does nothing to give me hope.
He clears his throat. “I’m guessing you know why you’re here.”
Nodding, I take a deep breath and straighten my spine. Because while that photo was inappropriate, I’ve put a hundred and ten percent into my job. Had Gary not posted that lurid article, I would be poised to make partner, not sitting here about to get my ass handed to me.
Bill Fleming, the jerkoff slave driver who’s been on everyone’s ass about billing, is sitting across from me. He drops a printout of Gary’s article on the table with all of the NSFW photos uncensored. My face flames when I see my hand wrapped around Josh’s naked body, a still from the video.
My only defense—complete denial that the hand was mine—is dismantled when I realize the article has been updated to now include photos of Josh kissing me outside of his condo. Jesus, when were those pics taken?
“Miss Mills, this is a violation of your professional ethics. What were you thinking? This”—Bill waves his meaty hand at the evidence—“this is a liability. A potential claim. We may need to notify our malpractice carrier.”
Turning to Malcolm, I shake my head. “Sir, I apologize for any negative attention the firm has received due to my relationship with Mr. Cartwright. I should have recused myself from representing him once we began dating.”
One of the guys on the other side of the table chuckles. “Dating? Is that what we’re calling it?”
My head jerks. “Yes, we’re dating.” Ugh, why is it when men do anything sexual, they get a pat on the back, but if women do it, they get treated like whores?
Never mind that they don’t bother asking if I’m the one in the nude photo.
Because they don’t care.
This is about appearances, and for all intents and purposes, that hand belongs to me whether or not that’s the case.
Malcolm taps his pen and then sighs. “We’re going to need you to go on leave. I’m guessing you have some vacation time saved up.”
Bill interrupts him and wags a finger at me. “Young lady, you can get disbarred for this. I’m sure they’ll investigate given the high-profile nature of the client.”
I stop breathing, his words destroying me.
When I finally lift my eyes and look to Malcolm, he says I should hand off my current cases to Nathan and Angela before the end of the day.
Tears build in my eyes, and I fight like hell to keep them back. Because the last thing I want is for these men to see me cry.
Bill sneers. “Do yourself a favor and break up with Cartwright. That will bode well for you when the bar is examining this whole distasteful situation.” My heart starts beating out of my chest, and the asshole continues. “Maybe it will keep you from being disbarred. But let me be clear that we’ll be working to spare the reputation of the firm since your name is already tainted. This is the brother of a senatorial candidate, for fuck’s sake.”
Your name is already tainted.
“Bill, calm down,” Malcolm says finally. “We don’t know the bar will investigate, Evelyn, but we have reason to take every precaution to protect the firm’s reputation. I don’t imagine this will go over well with our clients.” His lips tighten as he motions toward me. “At the end of the day, please leave your office keys. We’ll contact you when we’re ready to take the next step in this process.”
I’m not being fired, but I’m being asked to leave my keys.
You’re so fucked.
My heel gets caught on the cracked sidewalk, and I only barely keep myself from landing face first on the pavement. Grateful I didn’t wipe out, I straighten my skirt and catch my breath.
I’m so late to meet Josh. It took me a little while to pull myself together in the restroom at work, but now that I see my reflection in the window of the coffee shop, I know I’m a lost cause. My hair is windblown and my eyes are puffy and red. I wish this day would end already.