go on the cruise with my family on Thursday. I’ll figure out what to do about Rich when we get back. I refuse to leave it as it is. I need to know what exactly that TracFone is about, and if he’s still cheating on me."
"And if he is?"
"Then I kick his ass to the curb, plain and simple. I’m a grown woman now. I refuse to let any man put me through all that again," I shoot back, raising my eyebrows, displaying confidence.
"I'll drink to that." She smiles. "Can you get the two grown women another round of drinks over here?" she says, putting her hand up to signal the waitress, who is now flirting with the bartender.
Chapter Six
Wednesday
April 17, 2013
4:52 p.m.
The workday passes quickly, not even having much time for lunch. I meet with the attorneys, making sure they have everything they need while I'm away. While looking at my email one last time, Laura walks in. She pulls out a chair and slumps down.
"So how was your meeting?"
She shrugs, looking unamused. "It went good. I always hate going to that place. I leave there feeling dirty." She tenses her shoulders and curls her lip in disgust.
Laura had to meet with a client at the California State Prison in Los Angeles, and that place always leaves a woman feeling like a piece of meat.
"I know. I hate it too. The stares and nasty comments they yell out to the women in that place. Ugh," I say, looking equally disgusted. "So when is the trial?"
"Not until the middle of June," she responds, standing. "You're leaving in the morning?"
"Yeah. I believe the car is picking us up around ten o’clock to take us to the port."
She nods once, and then simply stands there for a moment. "Have a good time," she says before the silence begins to feel uncomfortable.
"I will. It’ll be nice to spend time with my family." She nods slightly again.
Walking to the door, she pauses after turning back in my direction. "Can we make time to talk when you get back?"
Pressing my lips together, I look up at her with a concerned face. "Yeah, sure. Is everything all right?"
She shrugs. "Of course it is. We haven't had much time to talk lately," she answers, with a forced smile.
"Are you sure that's all?"
"Yeah, of course. Plus, I still haven't taken you out for your birthday."
"Okay," I say, still not really convinced that there isn’t something she needs to talk to me about.
"Have a good time, Amy. I'll see you Monday." She turns, and saunters out of the office.
I'm left feeling a bit unsettled, and hoping that she doesn’t want to leave the firm because of what happened in court on Monday. She's always hard on herself, so much more than even I am.
My phone dings just as I’m turning off the computer. A text from Rich: Need to work a bit later tonight to finish up some things, since I'll be gone for a few days. Don't wait for me for dinner. I'll grab something quick at work.
"Whatever," I say under my breath. I grab my bag and keys, and turn the lights off, closing the door behind me. "What are you still doing here?"
"I’m finishing up a few last minute things," Julie responds, typing.
"Get home. That can wait until tomorrow. Come on, we'll walk out together." She smiles, and finishes up, before turning off her computer.
• • • •
I spend the next few hours packing my suitcase―stuffing enough clothes for a month-long vacation. Realizing I should pack a couple of sweaters, since it may be cold in the evenings on the ship, I go to my closet and reach up on the shelf. While grabbing a sweater, the pieces of the TracFone fall to the floor. The sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach returns. I pick the pieces up and shove them back under the clothes on the shelf. While adding the sweaters to the stack in the suitcase, I look over at the clock and see that it’s ten twenty-five.
I decide to get in the shower and call it a night. Upon getting out of the shower, footsteps approach on the stairs. While bushing my hair, Rich peeks into the
"And if he is?"
"Then I kick his ass to the curb, plain and simple. I’m a grown woman now. I refuse to let any man put me through all that again," I shoot back, raising my eyebrows, displaying confidence.
"I'll drink to that." She smiles. "Can you get the two grown women another round of drinks over here?" she says, putting her hand up to signal the waitress, who is now flirting with the bartender.
Chapter Six
Wednesday
April 17, 2013
4:52 p.m.
The workday passes quickly, not even having much time for lunch. I meet with the attorneys, making sure they have everything they need while I'm away. While looking at my email one last time, Laura walks in. She pulls out a chair and slumps down.
"So how was your meeting?"
She shrugs, looking unamused. "It went good. I always hate going to that place. I leave there feeling dirty." She tenses her shoulders and curls her lip in disgust.
Laura had to meet with a client at the California State Prison in Los Angeles, and that place always leaves a woman feeling like a piece of meat.
"I know. I hate it too. The stares and nasty comments they yell out to the women in that place. Ugh," I say, looking equally disgusted. "So when is the trial?"
"Not until the middle of June," she responds, standing. "You're leaving in the morning?"
"Yeah. I believe the car is picking us up around ten o’clock to take us to the port."
She nods once, and then simply stands there for a moment. "Have a good time," she says before the silence begins to feel uncomfortable.
"I will. It’ll be nice to spend time with my family." She nods slightly again.
Walking to the door, she pauses after turning back in my direction. "Can we make time to talk when you get back?"
Pressing my lips together, I look up at her with a concerned face. "Yeah, sure. Is everything all right?"
She shrugs. "Of course it is. We haven't had much time to talk lately," she answers, with a forced smile.
"Are you sure that's all?"
"Yeah, of course. Plus, I still haven't taken you out for your birthday."
"Okay," I say, still not really convinced that there isn’t something she needs to talk to me about.
"Have a good time, Amy. I'll see you Monday." She turns, and saunters out of the office.
I'm left feeling a bit unsettled, and hoping that she doesn’t want to leave the firm because of what happened in court on Monday. She's always hard on herself, so much more than even I am.
My phone dings just as I’m turning off the computer. A text from Rich: Need to work a bit later tonight to finish up some things, since I'll be gone for a few days. Don't wait for me for dinner. I'll grab something quick at work.
"Whatever," I say under my breath. I grab my bag and keys, and turn the lights off, closing the door behind me. "What are you still doing here?"
"I’m finishing up a few last minute things," Julie responds, typing.
"Get home. That can wait until tomorrow. Come on, we'll walk out together." She smiles, and finishes up, before turning off her computer.
• • • •
I spend the next few hours packing my suitcase―stuffing enough clothes for a month-long vacation. Realizing I should pack a couple of sweaters, since it may be cold in the evenings on the ship, I go to my closet and reach up on the shelf. While grabbing a sweater, the pieces of the TracFone fall to the floor. The sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach returns. I pick the pieces up and shove them back under the clothes on the shelf. While adding the sweaters to the stack in the suitcase, I look over at the clock and see that it’s ten twenty-five.
I decide to get in the shower and call it a night. Upon getting out of the shower, footsteps approach on the stairs. While bushing my hair, Rich peeks into the
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