The hardest part was figuring out what to do next. It wasn’t like I could go to the authorities—something she probably knew—because then I would definitely lose my job. If I called Kerri, I was sure she would convince me to report it. I didn’t want to involve Joel either, because clearly Lara had been either watching my house or following Joel’s whereabouts. How else would she have found out our involvement and where I lived? For the first time in my life, I was without a doubt stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Chapter Eight
Friday couldn’t have come soon enough. After my lunch with Joel and returning home to find that box, the remainder of the week felt endless. The compounding days weighed me down like a ball and chain wrapped around my leg. I needed a break, like I’d never needed one before. I wanted a day all to myself with zero work, without even a thought of work, where I could sit on my couch in a ratty shirt and sweats and drink wine to my heart’s content. Where I could mourn the loss of my blink-and-you’ll-miss-it love life. Where I could mourn the thought of what could have been. Where I didn’t have to worry about what could end up being a short-lived career.
Henderson had me working on the deposition for the case with Lara, which was due Monday morning, while Fitz had me working on a couple pleadings for a few clients—all of this while I still had research and copious amounts of files that needed filing for Lara’s case. The last time I’d been that busy was finals junior year, first semester. I didn’t even remember eating or sleeping for days, but somehow I managed, just like I managed to make it through the work that seemed to keep me glued to my desk for most of Friday.
When I looked at the clock, it read 5:30, and surprisingly, I didn’t hear any tapping of keys or over-exaggerated sighs, signaling that everyone would have rather have been home at that point instead of working another Friday night.
Just when I was thinking I was completely alone, Henderson emerged from around the corner, his shoes drumming the floor in an ominous sound.
“Blaire, great, you’re still here. Do you have a minute?”
“Yes.”
Henderson stood over me without making eye contact. In the silence, I garnered he didn’t want to have the conversation out there, next to the elevator, where anyone could hear us. So I stood up, waiting for him to lead the way to his office. I wasn’t used to this sign of hesitancy or indecision from Henderson. It wasn’t like him. He was most often bold, succinct, to the point in almost an Asperger kind of way. Henderson turned and headed back to his office without even giving me a second glance, and instead of thinking about all of the things that I still needed to get done, I was starting to feel somewhat nervous. It wasn’t unusual to be called back to his office, but something about the way no one was around on a Friday evening felt very eerie.
The door to his office was open, and he stepped to the side, allowing me to enter first. I moved to the seat opposite his desk while he turned to shut the door.
“Mr. Henderson, is there something wrong?” My impatience was getting the better of me. If it was bad news, I would have rather him just get it out and over with. There was nothing worse than delay.
He didn’t answer me until he took his seat across a desk that up until that point had never made me feel intimidated or ostracized, but at that very moment that’s exactly what I felt. Maybe it was the amount of guilt that had been weighing heavily on me. Maybe it was disappointment for the things I had given up for the strides I made. Joel wasn’t the first one I’d let slip by in lieu of a stellar career, and he wouldn’t be the last.
“Ms. Banks, you know we would never wrongfully accuse any of our employees of misconduct or unprofessional behavior without merit.”
“I’m sorry, ‘unprofessional behavior’? I don’t understand.”
He blinked a few times, nodding his head as if to settle my excitement. “Yes, we have reason to believe that you may have a non-professional relationship with the defense, E.J. Trevaunt, of the Farrows case—”
“Yes, but—”
“Now, you’re an amazing asset to our team, and this case was really only supposed to—”
“Wait, you’re not firing me, are you?”
My mind was scrambling for purchase while I thought over every fear that assaulted me from the moment I learned of Joel’s identity. Why did it surprise me that they would learn the truth? That Lara wouldn’t move forward with whatever evidence she had garnered. It wasn’t that I didn’t take her seriously. I expected she would do this, but maybe I just hoped that it wouldn’t come to this—being let go with no one around to say good luck, or—who was I kidding? If anything, most of the office probably had already known what I had done and why I was being let go by the time I was seated in Henderson’s office chair. Had anyone from the office still been there, I wouldn’t be leaving with uneasy smiles and a quiet send-off. They’d probably stand to the side in silence with smug looks of disdain.
“As of right now, we’re putting you on administrative leave while we figure out how to proceed. You understand we can’t have you working on or around this case. As I said, we really enjoy you working here, and we don’t want to make any hasty decisions.”
“I understand. I apologize for any behavior that may have tarnished the firm’s reputation. Should I take my things or—”
“Take whatever you feel you may need, but this in no way means we are firing you. I want to make that clear. You can leave whatever here that you won’t have immediate need of, and it will be here when you return.”
“Thank you, Mr. Henderson.”
“I really am sorry about this, Blaire.”
“I understand. I’ll just grab my purse, and I’ll…” I didn’t know how to end the sentence, so I scrambled out of the chair, eager to remove myself from his office and from the building. Not ten minutes before I was begging for a break and now it was being handed to me on a silver platter, but I felt like an island floating in the middle of the ocean with nothing to anchor me and no reprieve in sight.
I had neither seen nor spoken with Joel since the day I received the box, but I should have expected Lara wasn’t done. I could have called her bluff and told my bosses everything before she had a chance to, but maybe that was her intention all along. Maybe I would still be on leave whether or not the truth came from my mouth or hers.
I made my way back to my desk, my eyes wandering over the empty halls to ensure that they were in fact empty. It was the quietest it’d ever been on a Friday, and I was sure that my suspension had something to do with it. Whoever was responsible for my lonely walk back to my desk, I was thankful for. The truth was, I wasn’t sure what would be more embarrassing—being fired or having people watch me leave, knowing I’d committed career suicide by becoming involved with the opposition. If that wasn’t the worst, the fact that he was accused of beating his ex-girlfriend would surely cause a few stares.
Without missing a beat, I quickly logged off my computer and snatched my purse, not so much as sitting in my seat, fearful some alarm would go off warning Henderson that I hadn’t immediately left the premises.
Approaching the glass doors to the parking lot, I stuttered in my steps as I looked up to find Joel’s white Mercedes just outside the doors. Seeing as how it was after 5:30 p.m., the doors were locked, which would explain why he was pacing out front with phone in hand. I looked over my shoulder to double-check I wasn’t quietly being escorted out and, if so, that they hadn’t seen the physical proof of my being involved with Joel. Confusion and anger now drove me to exit the building. I pushed through the doors, and Joel rushed to meet me.