I Take You Page 20

  Anita keeps talking. “Isn’t it better this way? You can’t want this, not really. A fancy wedding? A marriage to someone so obviously unsuited to you, a marriage destined to fail? It’s not worth throwing away your career.”

  “How did you know my career would matter to me?”

  She shrugs, twirling the stem of a leaf between her fingers. “I asked around.”

  “Of course you did.” I glance down at my phone again.

  “I thought I knew my son,” she continues. “But he’s a complete mystery to me. He’s such an intelligent person. He must be blind not to see who you really are.”

  That’s about as much as I can take. I stop walking and turn to face her. “Javier says hi.”

  Her expression is innocent, slightly puzzled. “Javier? Will’s friend?”

  “Yes, that Javier. He told me quite a story about the summer he worked in your office.”

  “Did he work there?” She tilts her head, as if she’s making a real effort to recall him. All good trial lawyers are gifted actors, and Anita is no exception. “Now that you mention it, I do vaguely remember … Goodness, that was so long ago!”

  “Goodness, wasn’t it? Still, Javier remembers it well. How tired he would get after softball practice. He was always so grateful when you would give him a ride home.”

  She gazes at me levelly. “I’m not sure what you’re driving at.”

  “Aren’t you, Anita?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  “That makes sense. You probably had lots of affairs with subordinates over the years. This was the only opportunity Javier had to screw a United States Attorney.”

  Her face contorts with rage. “How dare you?”

  “A married one, too,” I continue. “And the mother of his best friend. I can see why that would be a lot more memorable for him than it was for you.”

  “This is absolutely outrageous!”

  “What did he say? It lasted for months. You couldn’t get enough of each other. Night after night after night.”

  “I have never—”

  “Sometimes you couldn’t even wait until the office was empty. You called him in, closed the blinds in your office, and did it right there on your desk.” I widen my eyes. “A lowly paralegal and Chicago’s chief federal prosecutor. Sounds pretty hot, Anita. The big boss, and her cute, submissive little underling.”

  “That’s completely untrue!” she snaps. “I was only an Assistant U.S. Attorney at the time. And it didn’t happen dozens of times. It was more like four or—”

  In the sudden silence, I can hear a bird chirping merrily in the tree above our heads. Will and his father laughing about something. A rooster crowing on a nearby rooftop.

  Anita is staring at me, her mouth compressed into a thin line.

  “That was almost too easy,” I say. “But then, that’s a prosecutor for you. You guys just love to tell people when they’re wrong. It’s like you can’t help yourselves.”

  “I am warning you,” she says in a low voice. “If you try to smear me with this, you will be very, very sorry. I will deny everything, and I will be believed. My reputation is impeccable. In fact, it’s safe to say that—” She breaks off in frustration. “Are you even listening to me? Stop playing with your phone!”

  It’s true—I’ve been fiddling with it the entire time she’s been talking.

  “You young people are all alike!” she snaps. I guess she has to vent her rage on something. “Obsessed by these pointless distractions! Texting, and social media, and those moronic games. Will behaves exactly the same way. You’re wasting your lives.”

  “It’s not all texting!” I protest. “My phone does a lot of other things. For example, this application right here?”

  I hold my phone up to show her.

  “It’s called Voice Memo.”

  Anita stares at the blinking red dot on the screen.

  “It’s very handy,” I add. I stop recording and press Play.

  We hear her say: “That’s completely untrue! I was only an Assistant U.S. Attorney at the time. And it didn’t happen dozens of times. It was more like four or—”

  I press Stop and smile at her.

  “Your expression right now? Priceless. In fact …” I snap a photo and show it to her. “That’s definitely one for the wedding album, am I right?”

  She grabs for the phone, but I hold it out of reach. Her dignity doesn’t allow her to tussle for it.

  “You’ll never get away with this,” she hisses. “No one will believe you.”

  I nod thoughtfully. “It will be so interesting to see which of us has more credibility. The U.S. Attorney battling sexual misconduct allegations? Or the woman with the audio file.”

  She looks murderous. “You can’t possibly—”

  “Lily? Anita?”

  We look up. Will and his father are waiting for us.

  Harry grins. “What are you two girls gabbing about?”

  “Nothing!” we say at the same time.

  We catch up with them. “I’ll get you for this,” she mutters.

  I give her a friendly pat on the rear end. “Sure you will, Mom. Sure you will.”

  We’re back at the front gate. I take Mattie’s hands in mine. “I cannot thank you enough. You’ve planned a truly amazing wedding.”

  She blushes and beams at me. “I’m so glad you’re pleased. But really, you made it easy, my dear.”

  “Did I?”

  She cocks her head. “Well, no. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re on our way!”

  She starts giving me a lot of instructions about the rehearsal tomorrow. I don’t really listen. I’m too happy. Eventually she disappears, trailing receipts and farewells. Will’s parents head back to the hotel, Anita’s head hanging low.

  I turn to Will. “I have a quick call for work in a little while. Wait for me, and then we can get some lunch.”

  He frowns, running his hands through his hair. He looks a little downcast.

  “Is everything okay, baby?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he says, shaking out of it. “Definitely. But I told Javier I’d help him practice his best-man speech. I’ll have to catch up with you later.”

  “Okay. Have fun!”

  He kisses me good-bye, and I watch him walk away. I turn and stroll in the other direction. I get a text from Freddy:

  —u ok?

  —everythings great!

  —??

  —im in love with Will!

  —???

  —and I thwarted his moms evil plot to ruin my life!

  —??????

  —wedding on, bitches!

  My phone rings. “What are you smoking?” Freddy demands.

  “Love!” I cry. “I’m smoking love!”

  “I was afraid this might happen,” she says. “We drank way too much absinthe last night.”

  “It’s not a hallucination. It’s for real. Really, really for real.”

  She sighs. “Can we take this step by step?”

  “Sure!” I’m practically skipping down the street. I pluck a flower from a vine trailing along a picket fence and put it in my hair.

  “So … you love Will,” she says doubtfully.

  “I loved him all along, Freddy. I’m over the moon about him.” I tell her about my epiphany. I tell her I know it’s love because I’ve spent all my time trying to reason it out—I should marry Will because of x and y and z, I shouldn’t marry Will because of a and b and c—instead of examining how I feel. I’ve tried to deny what I felt for him, to do everything I could to reject it. Because I lost love once and didn’t think I deserved it again. Didn’t think I was wired for it, capable of doing it right.

  But when you stop denying the truth, and open your eyes and see it? It has a solid quality. You just know.

  When I’m done explaining, she doesn’t nag me or doubt me—she gets it. “So the wedding’s on?”

  “Yes! His mom can’t rat me out anymore.” The flower falls out of my hair. I put it bac
k in. “I secretly recorded her admitting that she had an affair with Javier.”

  “Wait—what?”

  I forgot to tell her about that. I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind. I give her a quick recap.

  “And that’s enough to stop her?”

  “If this got out, it would be a huge scandal. It would ruin her career, just like she tried to ruin mine. I blackmailed the blackmailer, Freddy!”

  “It does have a certain poetic justice to it,” she agrees.

  Call-waiting beeps. It must be my one o’clock with Philip and Lyle. “I’ve got to go, Freddy. I’ll call you back.”

  Everything is so perfect right now! I’m going to get married. I saved my job. I’ll have this call with Philip and Lyle to find out what interesting new case awaits me on my return, then enjoy to the utmost the last two days before my amazing, fun, Popsicle-strewn wedding to the man I love.

  It’s been a difficult few days. Or months. I wish I’d conducted myself a little differently with respect to … well, pretty much everything.

  But I didn’t know I loved Will! It makes all the difference.

  Everything is going to work out. A life of ease, contentment and happiness awaits me.

  I click over to the other line. “Good afternoon, gentlemen!”

  “Wilder?” Philip says. “We have a problem.”

  19

  “Problem? What problem?”

  “The settlement fell through,” Lyle says.

  “The EnerGreen settlement? Why?”

  “Because our client refuses to listen to reason,” Philip says irritably.

  I turn onto Duval Street as Philip explains that EnerGreen’s board is balking over the proposed method for distributing the settlement to the plaintiffs. Everything sounded so certain on Tuesday. The deposition canceled, the papers all but signed. And now they’re hung up on some trivial procedural point. Ridiculous.

  “I take it the deposition is on for tomorrow?”

  “It’s on,” Lyle confirms. “I’ve already called Hoffman. He’s ready to go.”

  “Wait until you meet this guy, Philip. He’s a real piece of work.”

  “I’m not coming,” Philip replies. “You’ll be handling this one on your own.”

  I stop walking. A woman bumps into me from behind—at least, I think it’s a woman. I’m too focused on what Philip just said to know for sure.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you talking about?”

  “It’s the storm, Wilder. The entire city is shutting down.”

  “What storm?”

  “You really are in vacation mode, aren’t you?” Lyle says. “There’s a blizzard bearing down on the East Coast. They say it’s going to be the biggest in years. The airports are closing as we speak.”

  A blizzard? A little snow and ice? So what? Our firm is famous for the insane lengths its lawyers go to in order to help their clients when the stakes are high. Working for days without sleep. Ignoring serious illnesses. Risking jail time. Bad weather has never stopped us before. What is Philip thinking?

  “You need to be here,” I tell him. “There’s no way I can defend this deposition by myself.” Someone else bumps into me. I start walking again, turning onto a side street.

  “What do you mean?” Lyle says, his voice dripping with fake big-brother cheer. “You’re going to be great!”

  “You can handle Hoffman’s e-mails,” Philip says. “I’ll tell you exactly what to do.”

  “It’s not just the e-mails I’m worried about, Philip. It’s what he has to say about the financial statements. If he starts testifying about the fraud it’s all over for EnerGreen.”

  “The alleged fraud,” Philip corrects me.

  “Not alleged,” I say. “Actual. The actual fraud.”

  “What on earth are you talking about, Wilder?”

  “Didn’t Lyle tell you?”

  Silence on the line.

  “Tell him what?” Lyle says innocently.

  For an instant, my mind goes blank. I stop and lean against a storefront. I can’t quite take in the magnitude of what’s happening.

  “Lyle,” I say. “Oh, Lyle. You useless, useless piece of shit.”

  “Wilder, please,” Philip chides me.

  “She’s hysterical,” Lyle says to Philip. “I told you she wasn’t ready.”

  “One of you needs to tell me what is going on,” Philip says. “Immediately.”

  So I sit down on a curb, in the shade of a banyan tree, and I start talking. I describe Pete’s prep. I explain that the wild allegations in the complaint, the overheated stuff we thought was just rhetoric, is, in fact, true. That EnerGreen lost billions and billions of dollars in bad trades and used the oil spill to try to cover it up. I tell him how Pete will fall apart if questioned about it. I say that not only will EnerGreen lose the case, but because of the size of the fraud, the company could very well go under.

  Then I finish talking, and I wait.

  There’s a long silence. Philip clears his throat. “Explain something to me, one of you, please,” he says. His voice is calm, level. Extremely ominous. “Explain to me how it is that I, the partner in charge of this case, am learning this information now. Today, one day before the deposition of this witness. How is that possible?”

  “This is the first I’m hearing about it, too,” Lyle announces.

  “He’s lying, Philip.”

  “I’m not lying! She never told me any of this.”

  “He’s lying through his teeth.”

  “Stop,” Philip says. “Both of you. Stop.”

  There’s a long pause. Lyle starts to say something, but Philip must gesture to him to be quiet. Finally, he says, “I am going to make some calls. We’ll get back to you shortly, Wilder.”

  We hang up. I pace around for a little bit, marveling at Lyle’s treachery. This is a new low, even for him. I should be enraged, beyond irate, but I can’t muster anything more than mild annoyance. Why bother? There’s no way Philip is going to let me fly solo here. He’ll solve the problem, one way or another.

  My phone pings with a text from Teddy:

  —I can meet you at 3. Green Parrot.

  I’m responding when Philip and Lyle call back. I can tell right away that the news is not good. Philip sounds agitated, distracted. Unlike himself.

  “I’ve just gotten off the phone with Daniel Kostova,” Philip says. Kostova is the plaintiffs’ lead counsel. “He is refusing to postpone the deposition. Kostova is—he claimed that he is already in transit to the Keys. And if—he stated that if we try to delay, he will file an emergency motion with the court—a motion for sanctions—attaching Hoffman’s e-mails as evidence of our supposed bad faith.”

  “Then it’s simple,” I say. “We don’t show up. No witness, no deposition.”

  “That won’t work,” Lyle says. “Kostova will still move to have us sanctioned, and it gives him an even better excuse to put the e-mails in front of the judge.”

  “I have been unable to—to reach Urs,” Philip continues. “I will keep trying, but I don’t think we can depend on EnerGreen acceding to the settlement, not even if we—if they—if we can impress upon them the urgency of the situation.” He exhales heavily. “Wilder is right. I need to be there.”

  He continues talking, reeling off to Lyle a whole bunch of instructions about documents he needs, transcripts of other depositions, copies of court orders. I’ve never heard him so rattled before. The seriousness of the situation has sunk in. If EnerGreen goes down because of a bad deposition, the firm’s reputation will take a serious hit. As will his.

  “Betty will make my travel arrangements,” he says. “She will—I will have her call you with the details, Wilder. Lyle, I want you to reach out to Hoffman and tell him to be ready to meet with me first thing in the morning.” He pauses again. “Try to convey the message correctly this time.”

  Lyle protests, “Philip, I didn’t—”

  “Shut up,” Philip says. “Not another word out of your mouth.�
�

  Lyle and I are both shocked into silence. At a firm with some real screamers, Philip is famous for his courtesy. I’ve never heard him raise his voice or utter an angry word to anyone. He is the epitome of gentlemanly detachment. Breaking through that façade is part of what makes sleeping with him so much fun.

  Was. Was part of what made sleeping with him so much fun.

  We finally wrap it up. I check my messages. Nothing from Will. I have a little time to kill before meeting Teddy, so I decide to get my hair done. Do a dry run for Saturday. I find a salon, and soon a nice gay man is doing all the complicated and painful things I’ve always wanted done to my hair. I sit back in the chair and relax.

  It’s kind of a bummer that I’ll have to spend most of tomorrow working. But second-chairing this particular deposition will be unlike anything I’ve ever done before. Professionally, I mean. Philip is amazing at this sort of thing, and from what I’ve heard, Kostova is no slouch, either. There should be lots of fireworks.

  Then I think about my upcoming honeymoon with Will. We’re going to have so much fun. I’ll make sure that we get to the bottom of this sex business. Really hash it all out. I’ll open up and be honest with him—you know, within reason—and we can start our married life with a clean slate.

  It feels stupid to keep repeating it, but I really am so happy right now.

  Bliss!

  I leave the salon about an hour later, stopping to admire my reflection in a shop window. Not bad. Not bad at all.

  I’m not the only one who thinks so. A guy stops behind me, watching me.

  I turn and smile at him, touching my hair. “You like?”

  He smiles back. “I like. A lot.”

  What the hell am I doing? I turn and hurry away. I can’t flirt like that anymore—I’m taken!

  But you know what? It’s not a big deal. I caught myself. It’s just a habit I have to break.

  My phone rings. It’s my good buddy Lyle!

  “Hey, loser! Did he fire your ass yet?”

  “I think I’m safe for the time being,” Lyle replies. “Philip isn’t going to be firing anybody for a while.”

  Something in his tone stops me.

  “He was just admitted to the hospital,” Lyle adds.

  I move closer to the curb, out of the main stream of pedestrians. “That’s not funny, Lyle.”