Because if people don’t stand up for what they know to be true, how can they change the future?
With a rough sigh, I only wish there was some sign to let me know I acted with honor—something to show me I did the right thing even if the rest of the world believed it was wrong. There wasn’t. There never will be. Not a damn thing. And now, as the train crawls along, knowing it’s about to start all over, my stomach churns as hard as the train engines.
I wonder if I can escape to someplace remote where I won’t be recognized. The problem is I need my job too much. Yes, I own my home outright due to the largess of my grandparents, but there are still bills to pay. Besides, in comparison to what someone with a reputation like mine could be doing, it’s both lucrative and challenging every single day. I just wish Carys and her husband would get a wild hair and decide to up and move the whole thing to rural Antarctica. A touch of amusement hits me. Because there’s an untapped entertainment Mecca there.
Instead, I steel myself when the disembodied voice calls out, “Final stop, Grand Central Station. Please be sure to get all of your belongings, and watch your step.”
Lucky me.
I don’t move from my seat, unlike the other harried professionals who immediately begin gathering their belongings and filling the aisles. Why? What’s the point? To get a better position by the train’s doors in order to scurry onto the sweltering underground platform like rats once the cage opens? Instead, I do my best to keep my head averted beneath my wool hood, praying that in a city of nine million people, today I won’t be recognized by someone with a camera. That someone won’t stop and stare at me before I can get behind the safety of the office doors.
There are worse odds of that happening than me winning the lotto, which is why I don’t waste my money.
“Good morning, Angie.” David strolls up to my desk an hour after I booted up my computer. He holds out a cup, which I take eagerly. “I texted Carys after I dropped Ben off at daycare, and she declared if I walked into the office without copious amounts of caffeine, I was fired.” The glint of light off his platinum wedding band matches the one in his eyes over what he assumes is his wife’s hyperbole.
“Brace yourself,” I warn him before taking a grateful sip of a delicious latte.
He hitches a hip on the corner of my desk. “What happened this time?” David and I have worked with each other since before Carys started the firm. Back at Wildcard, we were much more cordial and less casual than we are here at LLF. I love the difference. In the beginning, before Carys and David had their son, it wasn’t uncommon for all of us to kick back after hours with a drink even as we’d slog away arguing over how Carys should argue a case. We’d order food and debate for hours on end. Fortunately, on those nights, Carys and David insist on my taking a car service home so I wouldn’t be subjected to the persistent attention I draw on the metro line. Although we do that more often at their apartment than here at the office these days, if there’s a need for me to work late, they insist on protecting me. And each time, it’s not the luxury that wraps around me. It’s the feeling of being cared for.
I’ve been recruited any number of times by a lot of different corporations, offered a ton of money to leave, but there’s nothing that could make me consider that as an option when I know Carys and David feel I’m a part of their family. And they do everything within their power to protect me.
“We were on a call with Z, and the whole internet went down just as Burke got him to agree to the terms of the new contract.”
“How long did it take to come back up?”
“Who says it has?” I arch my brow.
“Oh, holy hell,” he groans. “Did I buy enough coffee? Should I make another run?”
“Don’t you dare go looking for an escape route,” I threaten him.
“If I was going to do that, I’d fake an emergency from daycare.”
I snort. “Like your wife wouldn’t leave this hot mess in your hands to deal with while she got to rush out and handle your son.”
He opens his mouth to retort when the door crashes open behind him and tattooed male hotness stands in the doorway. Beckett Miller booms out, “I’ve been trying to call Carrie all morning. What the hell is going on around here, Dave?” Despite the fact David and Carys have been happily married for two years, David still bristles when he hears his wife’s ex-boyfriend’s voice. Especially when it’s shortening his name to a nickname he utterly detests. And only used by the man in question.
I wave the cup to emphasize my point. “See? Today is turning out to be a complete catastrophe.”
David leans closer, ignoring Becks for the moment. “I’ll give you a month’s pay right now if you go set off the fire alarm to get me out of dealing with him.”
My shoulders begin to shake with suppressed laughter. “As tempting as that offer is, no.”
“Where the hell is Ward? I know he supposedly works here?” David demands testily.
“Do I look like your brother’s keeper?” I ask impudently.
“What you always look like,” Becks drawls as he comes closer, “is Aphrodite. Angie, run away with me. Let me treat you in the manner in which you should become accustomed. Remove the agony of this world by fulfilling your heart’s desire by becoming my one and only.”
David looks ready to spit tenpenny nails into the rock giant’s face. Since it would be such a shame to mar such sinfulness on a Monday morning, I wade into this ongoing pissing contest that has lasted for years. “Becks, if I ran away with you, who would help Carrie get the internet back up?”
His bright blue eyes widen comically. “That’s what the cable company is for, lovely.”
Again, I remind him, “And I’m here to assist with problems. Both Carrie’s and David’s,” emphasizing the end of his name, winning a twitch of a smile from the man in question.
“But not Ward’s?” Before I can grit my teeth and reply that yes, my scope of responsibilities now includes supporting Ward Burke as well, Becks snaps his fingers. “If I can’t get in to see Carrie, can I pop in to see her little brother?”
“No,” I declare resolutely.
“Why not?”
David merely chuckles into his coffee. “I’m not touching this one, Angie. I’d better go check on the internet crisis before someone has to represent my wife for murder one.” He nods at Becks before disappearing with the tray of coffee behind the heavy wood doors.
Becks waits until he leaves before he drops any and all pretense of being an annoying prick. His voice is laced with true concern when he asks, “How are you doing today? I tried to call to get through, but with both the work line down and your cell off, I started to get worried, love.”
I start to say I’m fine, but Becks just pierces me with a stare. It’s odd to count one of the world’s most famous rock stars as one of your close friends, but one night well before Carys and David were married, when we were all working late, Becks arrived with another one of his infamous “dramas.” The four of us ended up engaging in raucous banter for hours. Becks bemoaned he was becoming the laughingstock of the tabloids.