Past Imperfect (28 page)

“True and I wouldn’t want to miss out on any fun with you.” I knew he meant to return the flirtatiousness, but his words just sounded smarmy.

“So, 8:30 at Boone’s. See you then,” I say, ready to end the conversation.

“See you then. Oh and Mabry.”

“Yes.”

“Maybe you’ll let me escort you home tonight.”

“I’ll see you later.” I hang up before he has a chance to respond.

At 8 o’clock, I grab my jacket, purse, and briefcase and head toward the elevators. I notice the light in Brad’s office is still on. The floor is deserted except for the two of us. I feel the pull in his direction as usual, but I ignore it. Brad’s office is directly in line with the elevators. I force myself to keep my eyes pointed straight ahead. I reach my target and push the button. As I stand there waiting, it dawns on me that I forgot to tell Tina to move my Thursday meeting with the Murphys to Friday. I walk to her desk to leave a note, keeping my gaze down, in order not to catch a glimpse of him. While placing the note on her desk I hear the sound of the elevator arriving. When I turn, I inadvertently look up and see him.

He’s in profile, sitting at his desk, leaning far back in the chair, while looking at his computer. The sleeves of his royal blue dress shirt are rolled up, exposing his toned forearms. I love how protected I feel when those arms are wrapped around me. Raising his hand, he runs his fingers back and forth through his hair a few times. It’s in complete disarray when he’s done, but sexy as hell. Looking at his chiseled profile, I think back to the first time I saw him a few years ago at the memorial service. Loneliness radiated off of him then just like it does now. Before I realize it, I’m standing in the doorway of his office, forcing myself not to go over and hug him. A slow grin spreads across his face.

“What are you grinning about?” I ask.

Keeping his eyes on the monitor, he says, “The fact that you’re standing at my door.” He turns to face me. “I’ve missed you today.”

Looking into his warm eyes and hearing his sexy low voice wrap around those sweet words causes my insides to melt. I know I need to leave right now or I’ll end up in his lap, clinging to him.

“Don’t work too hard, okay,” I tell him.

The grin falls from his face. “I won’t.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

He gets up and rounds his desk heading toward me. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

Taking a step back, I shake my head and say, “No, that’s fine. I’ll be okay. Have a good night, Brad.” I turn and head in the opposite direction before his words stop me.

“I love you, Mabry.”

Facing him, I say, “I love you too. That’s not ever going to change.”

“But other things have changed.” The fear is back in his eyes.

“It’s only been one day. I just need a little time.”

“Okay. Will you at least text me when you get home, so I know you’re safe?”

“Yeah.” My throat stings, as I try to hold on to the tears and my stomach twists in knots from the guilt I feel, not letting on who I’m about to see.

I walk as quickly as I can to the awaiting open elevator and step inside. When I turn around to press the button my eyes meet a sapphire gaze that’s frozen on me.

Downtown Charleston is a beautiful place. It’s an eclectic mix of historic homes, well-preserved architecture, and distinguished restaurants, living side-by-side with small local artisan shops and casual bars. Even though Boone’s is only a couple of blocks away from the firm on King Street, certainly within walking distance, I decide to drive. I figure having my car handy will make for a quick getaway once my meeting with Ten is over. I park my car and head inside.

Boone’s has a rustic artsy/sports bar feel to it. Local artists’ paintings and flat screen TVs cover the old brick walls. Industrial modern lighting fixtures jut down from the exposed ceiling beams. There are three levels. The upper two levels are designated mostly to either live music or watching whatever games happen to be playing on the multiple large flat screen TVs. The lower level is set up more like a restaurant with dark wood tables and chairs and an open kitchen. The atmosphere is casual and relaxed. It’s still a little early for the barflies to have taken over, but there is a small dinner crowd.

As I walk in, I spot Ten immediately. He’s seated at one of the tables in the corner. A huge smile appears across his face as he raises and tips his beer toward me. Approaching the table, I feel my insides quiver.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

My legs feel like lead with each step I take.

I feel like I’m betraying Brad.

My breathing is shallow as I try to take in as much oxygen as possible. I’m scared to find out what’s in the note, but my need to know pushes me forward. As I make it to the table, Ten stands to greet me.

“Hey Bright Eyes,” he says, his smile getting even larger if that’s possible.

The nickname unnerves me. We’re not that familiar with each other for him to be calling me that and this is not a social meeting. I bite my tongue and keep my thoughts to myself. I don’t want to piss him off. I want him as willing as possible so I can find out what Becca wrote about Brad.

He pulls out my chair and I slide in to it. “Hey. Have you been waiting long?” I ask.

As he pushes my chair closer to the table, he says, “I’d wait forever for you, Bright Eyes.”

He’s such a Sir Douche.

A slight smile crosses my face, thinking about the nickname Brad gave him.

Ten sits across from me and signals for the waitress. His eyes travel down to my chest and then back up to my eyes. “You look beautiful.”

“You’re such a liar. I’ve had the same makeup on and have been in these clothes for the past twelve hours.”

“Well, I’ll have to see what I can do to rectify that,” he says with a smirk.

I feel his eyes on me again and it makes me shift uncomfortably in my chair. Thankfully the waitress arrives for our drink order.

“Hey folks. What can I get you?” she asks, cheerfully.

“I’ll have a Firefly Mojito,” I answer.

“And for the gentleman?” She gives Ten a flirty smile.

“I’ll have another Holy City Pluff Mud Porter. Thanks.” He returns her flirty smile before she leaves. Turning his attention to me, he says, “I was kind of surprised to hear from you. Happy and excited, but surprised.”

“I apologize again for not returning your calls. It’s just been nuts at the office.”

“I bet, especially with the lawsuit Junior’s got hanging over his head,” he says nonchalantly.

The waitress arrives with our drinks before I have a chance to respond.

“Can I get you folks an appetizer?” she asks while placing my drink in front of me.

I shake my head at Ten. “No, this will be all for now. Thanks,” he answers.

We sit in silence for a few seconds, both taking sips of our drinks. He knows I have an ulterior motive in asking him to meet with me. He continues to drink his beer, waiting for me to start talking.

“So, the lawsuit… I hear you’re the lead on it.” My eyes dart back and forth from him to my mojito. He remains silent. “That’s pretty impressive to be given a case this big already. You’ve only been with Clarkson and Ross for a little over a year, right?”

“What can I say? When you’re good, you’re good. You should come join us. We’re always looking for talented lawyers. With your assets, you could go far at the firm.”

I give him a weak smile and take another sip of my drink. This is harder than I thought. I really should have planned out what I was going to say. “Do you really think you’ll be able to win the case?”

Eyeing me suspiciously, he takes a long draw of his beer. “You know as well as I do that this won’t go to trial. There will be a settlement made. The only question is how much of one.”

“What if the Johnsons don’t settle?”

“They’ll settle. The old man cares too much about his reputation to let Junior’s wandering dick get in the way.”

“I hear there’s a note.”

“I think we should probably change the subject.” He reaches over and runs the tips of his fingers over my hand. “You know, Mabry, you and I would be great together.”

My eyes glance down at his touch and immediately back up to meet his dark brown eyes. “I know you can’t tell me exactly what’s in the note. But is there a strong implication that he was directly responsible for her death? Are you
that
confident in your case?” I ask, shifting into lawyer mode.

“Did they send you here?” He removes his hand.

“No. No one knows I’m here. I’m not part of the case, Ten.”

“The note is pretty clear about her reasons for killing herself. That coupled with your boy’s past activities leads me and my firm to believe we’re in for a hefty payday.”

“Past activities?” There’s hesitancy in my voice.

“Brad’s been a busy boy,” he says, sarcastically.

“He admits to having been a player. We all make mistakes when we’re young.”

“Mistakes, yes, but he was calculating.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It seems in high school Brad and some friends had an ongoing betting game. It started off innocent enough, I guess. They’d bet on which one would be the first to feel up a girl or get a blowjob. As the boys got older, the bets and the stakes got bigger. The most charming was snatching of the V card. Their intended targets got picked each semester. The fellas would say and do whatever they needed to in order to get the girl to give it up. When she did, they’d further humiliate her by having the other two assholes appear out of nowhere and pay up right in front of her. He and his friends continued this activity through undergrad school. He’s also, pardon my French, fucked the majority of the females working at your firm. Hell, he screwed one of his father’s assistants in the old man’s own office.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and one who holds a grudge. I heard about his reputation. It was simply a matter of looking up girls he went to school with and finding the ones who wanted to talk. As for the work encounters… Kristina, his father’s old assistant, we work together. I knew she interned at The Johnson firm. All it took was one expensive dinner, a few drinks, and a little flirting for her to spill the beans.”

I sit in silence, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. I don’t need Ten to see that what he just told me is ripping my insides apart. I knew about Brad’s past, but only in general terms. He and I never discussed details. Even the office gossip was nonspecific. I was just told he was a player and it’d be in my best interest to keep my distance from him. The person Ten’s describing isn’t my version of Brad. I’m having information overload. The Brad I love is sweet, kind, and generous. The Brad Ten is telling me about is cold, heartless, and selfish. Did he use and then humiliate Becca? Is that what drove her to finally succeed in taking her own life? My appearance continues to remain steady and undisturbed while inside my entire world breaks apart. Which Brad is the real one?

I see Ten’s mouth moving, but I don’t hear what he’s saying. I grab my purse and rummage through it for my wallet.

“I got this. Are you okay?” he asks.

Shoving my chair back, I stand and say, “I’m not feeling well. I have to go.”

I don’t wait for him to respond. I leave as quickly as possible.

Hold it together, Mabry.

I get into my car and try to focus on every movement.

Concentrate on the physical actions, Mabry.

My place is only a fifteen-minute drive away, but it feels like it’s taking me hours to get there. Once I make it home, I run up my steps, fling the front door open, and slam it closed. Tears pour from my eyes. My breathing is rapid and I feel my body tremble uncontrollably. I try to will it to stop, but it doesn’t listen.

“…they’d further humiliate her…”

I feel the roughness of the wooden door against my back as I slide down it.

“The note is pretty clear about her reasons for killing herself.”

I kick my shoes off and dig my heels into the floor, my nails already piercing the skin of my palms.

“Mabry, I met a guy and I’m completely in love with him.”