“Michaél!” I exclaim, not meaning to be so loud.
Groggily, he opens his eyes and sits up, the quilt like a cape over his shoulders. “Morning,” he yawns.
“Here.” I hand him my coffee and go over to pour myself another.
He takes a sip and sits as if waiting for me to come back.
I adopt a breezy, devil may care attitude. My mantra is, don’t let him see how hurt I am.
“Erin, about last night…”
I stop him, holding up my hand. “Michaél, who ye choose to shag is absolutely none of my business. I would just ask that ye keep your pecker in your pants when I’m around and that ye not bring yer little slags back here.” The last bit comes out a little sharper than I meant for it to.
“I didn’t shag her.” He’s actually smiling when he says this.
“Michaél, whether or not ye shagged little Marnie is neither here nor there, and none of my affair.” I adopt one of my mum’s lecture tones of voice. “Personally, I couldn’t care less what ye do, or who ye do it to. Just so long as ye don’t do it on my doorstep or in my spare room.” I take a sip of my coffee so that I don’t have to look at him.
“She needed somewhere to stay, Erin. I tried calling her a cab but she was too drunk. I couldn’t send her home alone in that state.”
“How convenient. It certainly didn’t look all that innocent to me when I walked in on ye in the bathroom. And, in future, please make use of the lock on the bathroom door.”
“If I shagged Marnie, why would I be sleeping out here on the couch? Answer me that.”
“I don’t know, maybe she snores?” I’m genuinely trying to understand that particular piece of the puzzle. Oh, how desperately I want to believe him, but a great big fat hard-on speaks a thousand words.
“It’s not Marnie I’m interested in, and if ye could just get your head out of yer precious business for a minute, ye might see what’s really going on here.”
“I saw enough last night in the bathroom.” I pick up the empty coffee cups and bring them into the kitchen. “I can’t talk about this any more.”
Walking down the hall toward the bathroom, I steal a glance into the spare room, where the door is ajar. Marnie is passed out on the bed, fully clothed, with a bucket beside her and a cover over her middle.
“Huh,” I say softly and tiptoe on to the bathroom. My head is wrecked. I’m too tired to figure all this shit out, so I take a shower. When I come back out Michaél is also up and dressed.
“Erin, we need to have some fun. Take me out and show me the sights.”
“I don’t think so. I’m wrecked. I haven’t slept much and I’ve loads of paperwork to catch up on.” I pick up my laptop and turn to go toward my room where I can work uninterrupted.
Michaél blocks my path and takes my hand in his. “Please, Erin. Ye work too hard. Ye need a break, and I’ve barely seen any of Boston. Come on. It’ll be fun.”
I consider his proposal. There’s no chance of me getting any more sleep and today is supposed to be my day off. My brain seems to be out to lunch. I’m literally too tired to fight today. Besides, my attorney told me to play nice. She may have even told me to give this thing a chance, whatever this thing is.
“Sure, what the hell,” I say surprising us both.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
RIDLEE
I TAP MY PEN ON my desk as I wait for Mary O’Conner, attorney-at-law, to pick up my call. Her office is in New York, so thankfully we’re in the same time zone. I have my notes in front of me, including a giant stack of printed-out caselaw to back up my arguments. If she thinks she’s going to get off this call without coming over to my way of thinking, she’s dead wrong. I’ve practiced my speech for hours.
The elevator music playing over the line cuts off and a woman’s voice comes through the phone. “Mary O’Conner.” She sounds pretty tough, but I’m the biggest badass this side of the Mississippi, so I’m not impressed.
“Hello, Mary, this is Ridlee Taylor from Tanner-Scott in Boston.”
“Hello again, Ridlee, how are you?”
“Excellent. Listen, do you have a few minutes to discuss the Flanagan-O’Neill matter?”
“Sure do. I’m free for the next ten minutes.”
“Perfect. I’m putting you on speaker, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. I’m going to do the same.”
“Great. So…” I press the speaker phone button and put the handset down in the cradle. “I did some research into the caselaw…”
“Yes, and let me just stop you right there.” She sounds tired. “I don’t want you to waste your time with this. The last time we talked, I’d just been handed the file and had only had a brief conversation with my client, Mr. Flanagan.”
“Uh-huh…” I have no idea where she’s going with this, but I’m familiar with that tone of voice. She’s about to apologize. I’m afraid to get too excited about it, though, because she might just be sorry that she hasn’t had time to do anything on the case.
She continues. “Since then, I’ve done some research.”
My heart starts to race a little. “And…?”
“And I found what you probably already had in your files. He doesn’t have a case for misrepresentation, fraud, or negligence.”
I want to drop to my knees and kiss the carpet, but I restrain myself, somehow managing to still sound professional. “Thank you. That’s exactly the legal conclusion that I’ve come to.”
She sighs. “I guess I’m not exactly clear why you’re calling, then.”
I have to think about that for a few seconds because I have no idea what she’s saying. “Ummm… to discuss the case? See what we need to do to wrap things up?”
“No, I mean, I talked to my client over a week ago and he told me … well, obviously, I can’t tell you what he told me, but suffice to say we’re not filing suit.”
“Was that on your advice? Can you tell me that?”
“No, not really.” I can sense that she wants to tell me, but the rules of the Bar forbid it.
I chew my lip, trying to figure out how to get her to tell me what I want to know. When the line goes mostly dead, save for the sounds of shuffling paper on her end, I start talking, worried she’s going to end the call before I can do any more recon. “Can I be honest with you? Off the record, so to speak?”
“You can do whatever you want. I’m not going to report you for any Bar violations if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean … you and I both know Michaél never had a case. He’s apparently known this for quite some time. So why is he still at the bar, still working there and living with Erin under the guise of evaluating the business?”
“You’d have to ask him that.”
“I don’t know whether he’ll be truthful with me. I’ve met him a few times, and although he came here and gave my friend a huge headache, I’ve always gotten the impression that he’s basically a good guy.”
“I really don’t know him that well.” Her voice goes a little softer, losing some of its hard edge. “I’ve only talked to him on the phone, and I would agree with your assessment. I don’t think he ever came at this with bad intentions. And to be honest, I’m not even sure that he ever wanted more of the business than he already received.”
I’m fascinated. “Really…” Now things are getting interesting. “What makes you think that?”