42nd & Lex (2 page)

 “Mrs. Ainsworth is here, Abri.” Max pokes
his head in the doorway. I’ve managed to waste a good thirty minutes. My
headache is almost completely gone and I’m feeling mostly normal.

“Thanks, Max. Show her in.” I take a quick
look at myself in the reflection of my office window. I hadn’t put much effort
into myself this morning and it shows. I am at least wearing my new suit, a
Christmas present from my mom. Non-client interview days mean khakis and
sweater sets. I rummage through my desk drawer for some lip-gloss, mascara,
anything to make me look less frumpy. Nada.

 I make a beeline for Lindsey’s office down
the back hallway; she will have something I can use. Lindsey is a first year
associate with the firm and was two years behind me in law school. We weren’t close
then, but since we began working together on a few cases our friendship has
blossomed. It is nice to have someone to talk to who knows what my work life
entails. 

“Linds, quick, how do I look? Do you have
any lipstick I can borrow?” I burst into her office to find Lindsey with a
jelly donut hanging out of her mouth.

“Ommphf,” she gulps with a guilty look on
her face. “These were in the conference room left over from the partner’s
meeting…want some?” My friendship with Lindsey also revolves heavily around
food and the joy it brings us when nothing else does. She is single, like me,
and is probably destined to remain so, like me, because we never do anything
other than work. We both agree if you can’t find Mr. Right by thirty, then maybe
you can make partner by thirty and retire to some tropical island and take up
with a cute cabaña boy who makes up for his lack of English by excelling in
‘other’ areas.  

“Uh, no, well save me one for later.” I am
going to need a little pick-me-up after Sarah. 

“What’s the hurry? Hot divorcé in your
office?” Lindsey asks, winking at me.

“No. I’ll tell you later. Lipstick?” Lindsey
throws me her purse and I start digging. “Thanks Linds, you’re a lifesaver. Let’s
hit the diner across the street for lunch and I’ll tell you everything.”

“Okay, but can we ditch Max today? Just us
girls.” Max preferred to take lunch with us but his constant bitch fest about
the other support staff ruined lunches more often than not. “I might slap him
today.”

I laugh. No one would blame her. The
partners would probably take her assault case on pro bono. I count Max as a
friend, but he is tolerable only in small doses most days. He was a damn good
assistant and that’s why the partners kept him on. They just tended to make him
work with the younger associates.

Okay, time to focus. There is nothing to be
scared of; I am just as good as Sarah. After all, I graduated from college and
law school and work at one of the top family law firms in the city, don’t I? And
if I really want to get nasty, she is no better than me in the relationship
department either, seeing as how she is here about ending hers.   

“Abri, Ms. Ainsworth is in your office. I’m
getting her a non-fat decaf latte from downstairs, do you want anything?” How does
Max always seem to know where I am? 

“No thanks, Max. But on your way back in,
can you grab a new client packet for me?”

“Aye, Aye, Captain. I’m on it.” I roll my
eyes at him before handing Lindsey back her purse. Max was certainly in rare
form today.

I approach my office from the south so I can
see Sarah before she sees me. She is perched in my client chair, tiny enough
that two of her could fit in there side by side. She has on a white, probably
cashmere, coat and I can see a rather large Hermes bag on the floor next to her
feet. I smooth my suit jacket a little. It was bought with love by my mother,
but is still off-the-rack department store fare. 

“Sarah!” I exclaim, deciding that the
sorority girl ‘OMG Buffy, I haven’t seen you since Rush!’ approach is probably
better than anything more formal.

She turns to face the sound of my voice.
“Abri! Oh, I’m so glad they let me see you today. How long has it been? How is
your mom? You look awesome!” she squeals as she jumps up to hug me.

 “It’s been a long time. I think since I
turned thirteen. Mom is good. She remarried a few years ago. He’s pretty nice.
They moved back to Texas, she was tired of the winters in Iowa.” I answer all
her questions in rapid succession, trying to think up some of my own to ask
that are friendly and not so much business. “When did you move to New York?”

“About six months ago. Mark got a job here.
The shopping is to die for, but I miss the weather in Dallas. Who needs to wear
two coats just to go out?” She points to a waist length fur coat on the chair
next to the one she’s been sitting in. The white cashmere is merely part on the
ensemble of couture hanging ever so perfectly on her tiny frame. The mere
thought of shoving myself into all those layers makes my skin prickle with
heat.

“My mom told me you were living here and
that you went to law school. So that’s why I tracked you down…” her voice trails
off. The small talk has worn off and now we are down to the business at hand. I
breathe a small sigh of relief; at least this is the part of the meeting where
I am comfortable and in control. 

“Sit down and fill me in.” I say, gesturing
to the chair not containing her furry monstrosity. Max will shit when he sees
it. 

“Here is your non-fat, decaf, latte Mrs.
Ainsworth.” Damn, that boy has the ability to read my mind or something. “And
the documents you requested Ms. Cole.”

Max gives a little flourished bow behind Sarah
while mock gagging and pointing at her coat. I try not to smile.

“Thanks,” Sarah and I say at the same time and
it makes us laugh. The tension is finally broken and it’s as if we haven’t been
apart a day. Max just shakes his head and closes the door.

“Okay,” Sarah begins with a sigh. “Things
are going really bad with Mark and me. He has changed since we moved. At first,
he just worked all the time, which was fine because it was a new job and all. But
then he started being really different. Cold. Distant.”

“What does he do for a living?” I ask more
as a friend than as a lawyer. “Maybe it is just the stress of his job.”

“He’s an architect. It’s more than just work
stress, Abri. He had plenty of that in Texas, too. He’s become mean and
distracted. Ever since we moved here, any time I get upset about something or
have a bad day at work, Mark tells me I should start going to therapy so I tell
someone else about my problems and not bother him.” Work? Sarah has a job. 

“What kind of work do you do?” I ask, trying
to hide my surprise. 

“I work part time at an art gallery in SoHo.
A friend from college owns it. I just watch the place for her while she sculpts
sometimes.”

I nod to encourage her to continue. How does
one have a stressful day at an art gallery? People come in, they look around, and
they leave. Or maybe, they plunk down fifty thousand on an oversized piece of
crap that looks like two people screwing if you tilt your head just right. I take
another gulp of my now cold coffee hoping it will beat down the malicious bitch
that has clawed her way up inside of me. I press a sympathetic smile on my face
as I swallow hard.

“And you’ve decided you want to file for
divorce?” I state the obvious just to be sure we are on the same page.   

“Yes, I have to. There is no way I’m going
to therapy rather than tell my husband I had a bad day. I love him, Abri, but I
can’t live like that. I’m not ending up like my mother; married to money for
the sake of money and not happiness.”

So things are not as green on the other side
as I thought. Secretly that makes me feel better about being single and yet
worse for being so jealous all these years. I am a little surprised at how
emotionally mature Sarah appears to be. 

“It has taken me nearly twenty five thousand
in therapy to be able to say that, Abri. Thank God it was not my money.”

“Twenty five? Wow.” I am back in friend mode.
“That is a lot. Wouldn’t some Hagen Daas and a good chick flick have been
cheaper?” Sarah smiles but it does not reach her eyes. “Sorry, I know that’s
not very professional.”

“No, that’s okay. How long have we been
friends? I would expect my friend to say something like that. The therapy
wasn’t because of Mark. It was to learn what a healthy relationship could be
after seeing my mom and Don all those years. I thought I’d finally broken the
cycle, so to speak, when I met Mark.” She sighs and fidgets with the hem of her
cashmere coat. “So do you need me to fill out some paper work or something? How
much of a retainer do you need? I have my dad—er, Don’s credit card. He may not
be good at love and marriage, but he’s good at having cash when you need it.” She
laughs a laugh neither one of us feel.   

Don never adopted Sarah but she always considered
him her father. Her real father, much like mine, disappeared after the divorce.

“Oh yeah. This is our new client packet. It
has some information on divorce and some forms to fill out. Basic stuff. Names
and addresses. Are you going to live together while this is going on?”

“Oh God, no! Mark hasn’t been home in days.
He’s probably staying with friends or something, but I’m having the locks
changed today. What part of town do you live in?”

“Uh, I live in Chinatown right now.” It’s
cheap and I have a ton of student loans to pay off. “But I’m considering moving
to Chelsea when my lease is up in a month or so.”

I inwardly grimace at the thought of what Sarah
is thinking about my tiny ass apartment in Chinatown. Over the years I’ve
become immune to the ever-present smells of Chinese cooking. I might even miss
that dump a little when I am gone. Sarah is nodding her head while she fills
out the forms. 

I am skilled at reading upside after watching
clients fill out these intake forms day after day. Apparently, Mark makes about
a half million a year with his salary and other business dealings. Choke. No
kids, of course. They rent a penthouse near Central Park. Figures. Several
million dollars in liquid assets and various real estate holdings.

All this means I had better get a whopper of
a retainer from her because once the fight begins Mr. Ainsworth will make sure
most of this disappears. Not to mention that if Sarah knows about this much,
there is probably much more she doesn’t know about. That kind of money never
puts all its cards on the table. 

“The retainer is one hundred fifty thousand.
It’s nonrefundable, but it should be enough to finish things up.” I hope she doesn’t
expect a discount because we are friends, I don’t carry that kind of clout
around here yet.

“Oh, wow. Don figured it would be way more
than that, it being New York and all.” With a smile, she flips a black American
Express Card onto my desk. I have never seen one of those up close before. I don’t
usually sign up the cases that bring in that kind of money. I manage to
suppress the urge to inform her of this fact.

“Reason for filing...” Sarah mutters to
herself, the end of a Monte Blanc pen in her mouth. Embarrassed, I pick up the
slightly gnawed Bic pen sitting on the desk and shove it into a drawer. “Abri,
I have to tell you something. The cruelty is not the only reason I’m filing.” She
looks a little scared, no longer confident in what she’s doing.

“What else?” I ask. “Trust me; I have heard
it all in here. He likes porn, plays too many video games, watches too much
Sports Center, or chews with his mouth open?”

She shifts forward in the chair, looking
around as if to see if we are being watched. I’m thinking this is a perfect
time for Max to walk in his radar having picked up on whatever juicy tidbit Sarah
is about to unveil, but maybe it’s only me he’s tuned into.

“No, none of that. Those things I could
probably deal with given enough shopping, chocolate, and wine.” She filled her
pause with a nervous laugh. “It’s like he’s possessed or something. I know
that’s crazy and there’s no such thing as demons or whatever, but I swear it’s as
if something has taken over his brain. Even when he’s not being mean, he’s just
being weird. It scares me.”

“I’m so sorry, Sarah. I’m no psychologist,
but it sounds like whatever he’s going through right now is not something you
need to be involved in. You’re doing the right thing. I will get this on file
ASAP. Do you think he knows its coming?”

“No. He rarely comes home anymore. I don’t
know where he sleeps most nights but when he’s home I try to stay out of his
way as much as possible to keep him from acting weird.”

“This is the right decision, Sarah.” I reach
across the desk to grab her hands. “It’s going to be hard, but from what you’re
telling me, this is for the best.” I don’t feel like I’m making her feel better
but law school didn’t teach me what to say in cases of demonic possession. 

“Thanks Abri. I’m so glad it’s you handling
this for me. Say, what are you doing Saturday? Would you want to go out and
catch up on more pleasant topics? I mean, if you don’t have a date or
something.”

“No, no dates. Ever. I’d love to go out. If
you like Dim Sum there is a great place downstairs from my apartment.” I cringe
again, thinking of my rat hole of an apartment. I wonder if Sarah would notice
that I still have the same bed I slept in when I was ten. I no longer have the New
Kids on the Block sheets at least—not that I wouldn’t use them if I did. I just
won’t ask her to come upstairs.

“It’s a date. How about seven o’ clock?”
Thankfully, she doesn’t comment on my lack of social calendar.

“Sounds good.” I write down my address and
cell number on the back of one of my business cards. “Call me when you get
downstairs, the buzzer doesn’t work.” Another grimace.

***

Lunch is a welcome break in an otherwise
hectic day. I catch Lindsey up on Sarah and my ginormous retainer score over greasy
diner food. I hope the partners are as excited about it as I am, I could really
use a Christmas bonus come December. I am fantasizing about the things I could
do with a sizable bonus when the elevator arrives. At least fifteen people
crush on with us as we head to the 30
^th
floor. This is certainly
pushing the maximum weight of the car. I prepare to hold my breath.