“Holy shit. Why didn’t you say anything? We could have probably bagged this account from the start!”
I cocked my head to the side, the unpleasant mood written all over my face.
“Right. That would have been wrong. Of course,” he said, coughing slightly. “This still doesn’t explain why you are resigning. I would think the old man would be happy to have his future son-in-law working for him. Or does he not like you? Did he catch you boning her? From behind?”
“What the fuck, Mark? Could you be serious and grown-up for two minutes? Fuck.”
“Sorry. Please continue.”
“Liv and her parents don’t get along. Things between them are…not going well at the present moment. I can’t put myself in the position of being in the middle.”
“So, you’re picking sides?”
“It’s not a matter of choosing,” I answered. “I will always choose her, no matter what.”
“Do you have anything lined up, man?” he asked, his voice actually sounding concerned.
“No, not yet. But I’m sure I can find something. I’ve got enough in the bank to hold me for a while.”
He nodded. “I’ll put out some feelers and write you a killer letter of recommendation, if that helps.”
“It does. Thanks.”
He stood, stretching out his hand across the desk. “I know I act like a jackass some of the time—well, most of the time, but I get it. I do. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my wife and kids. Despite how much I joke around, they are my fucking world.”
“Thanks, Mark. Under all that asshat exterior, you’re not a bad guy.”
We shook, and I could see his grin appearing.
“Thanks, man. That means a lot.”
We said our good-byes, and Mark wished me luck.
I needed all the luck I could get because when Liv found out I quit my job for her, I would be a dead man.
Jackson
My foot bounced nervously as I stared out the window, counting down the seconds as they ticked by. The sleek lobby of the downtown law firm was well decorated and appointed just like all the others I’d sat in over the last two weeks while waiting to be called into interviews.
I tugged at my scarlet red tie, hating the way it felt tighter now that I’d gone a couple of weeks without them. It left me wondering if this little taste of freedom was a hint that I was supposed to be doing something bigger, something greater than sitting in an office every day for the rest of my life.
But if so, then what?
This was what I’d been trained to do, what I’d worked my ass off to accomplish. What else was there if I didn’t do exactly this?
I adjusted my tie again and pondered just how long the folks at Turner and McCollum Law firm were going to make me wait and sweat it out here.
Performance under pressure—I guessed this was my first test.
The alarm buzzed on my watch, notifying me of the time. It always beeped at this exact moment so I wouldn’t forget when the bus dropped off in front of our house. Noah always got off the bus at exactly a quarter past three every day, and he was expected to call me within five minutes without fail. This was our agreement, and so far, he’d adhered to it perfectly. I was amazed by his maturity and ability to handle himself. When I had been still working and would come home at night, I was surprised to find the house didn’t look like a train wreck. The dishes would be neatly stacked in the sink, and his homework would already have been completed and put away. It was eerie how well behaved he was.
Three minutes had passed, and I was starting to get restless. He knew this was my one condition of his staying home alone, and even though I’d been home for a few weeks, I knew he wouldn’t have forgotten.
Maybe the bus was late?
Another minute passed without a call.
I sent a quick text message to him, basically saying that he should call or he’d be grounded for life.
There was no reply.
I stared at my phone, willing it to ring, when the administrative assistant called for me.
Perfect.
I followed her back to the conference room, and several of the partners greeted me. They were all in their late forties with various shades of the same designer suit.
“Nice to finally meet you, Jackson. We’ve heard great things.” A tall, lanky man in a dark blue suit stood to greet me. “I’m Cal Turner.”
I nodded. “Thanks for taking the time. I appreciate it.”
We all took our seats around the sleek wooden table, and I casually leaned back as the assistant floated around, serving everyone coffee and water.
“Let’s get right to the point, Jackson. We like what we’ve heard, and we’d love to have you on our team,” Mr. Turner said.