In Your Corner
Page 94
I don’t need to turn around. I know that voice. I hear it on every street corner and in every café. I hear it as I drift to sleep every night. I hear it in my dreams.
“Jake.”
I close my eyes and lean my temple against his cheek, soaking in his warmth. Although I desperately want to turn around, I know I’ll cry if I do, and I can’t let Farnsworth see I am anything other than cool, calm, and collected.
“I’m fighting tomorrow.” His breath is warm in my ear.
“I’ll be there.”
His hand finds mine and he slips something into my palm. And then he’s gone.
For a long moment, I remain motionless, remembering the feel of his arm around me, his heat, the softness of his cheek, the steady beat of his heart.
Finally, I raise my hand. He’s given me a picture. Me. In Redemption. My arms raised after my fifty push-up triumph. And on it, he has written, “In Your Corner.”
***
The meeting takes place in room thirteen. My lucky room.
Farnsworth postures and swaggers. He threatens to bring to light every sordid detail of my past, every sexual encounter I’ve ever had, every man I ever propositioned. I tell him I never had to proposition men. They came to me. Just like he did. But he was one of the few I turned down. His face turns an interesting shade of red, almost purple.
Undaunted, he stalks around the meeting room. He says he will ensure I am humiliated and embarrassed, my reputation in tatters, and my bank account empty when he’s done with me. He says I’ll have nothing left. Not even self-respect.
I tell him I will live on love, but of course he doesn’t understand.
Then I check my watch. I tell him I have a full schedule this afternoon, which involves kicking Reid’s ass in court again, and if he has no more stories to tell, perhaps we can get on with the settlement meeting.
He tells me Evil Reid is no longer with the firm. Given the complaint Mom filed with the California State Bar, I am not surprised.
My mouth waters when I shove a thick, blue—I told Penny it had to be blue—file folder across the table. “Take a look.”
Farnsworth takes a look. He pales when he sees the evidence I have collected about his penchant for propositioning vulnerable associates and the evidence Ray has collected tracing the hack on my computer to his firm, and the police report matching the fingerprints of his PI, Eugene Clements, to the fingerprints the police took from the break-in.
He pales even further when I give him my settlement terms: the equivalent of five years’ salary donated to the community legal aid clinic and the local battered women’s shelter and a public apology.
Farnsworth offers more money instead of the public apology. He also offers to retire early. This is not a big sacrifice on his part, since my mom told me had been talking about it for the last year. In the end, I accept his offer on the condition that the money is used to set up a self-defense program for women at the firm. I tell him I know a good teacher with an expertise in kickboxing.
That night, Mom invites me home for a celebratory dinner. The lights are on when I arrive. My parents are both there. The rich, tangy scent of spaghetti sauce fills the air. These are not normal things in Amanda’s world, but I don’t complain.
Mom gives me an awkward hug, and I thank her for all her help. She tells me she’s expecting me to call whenever I need her and she’ll always be there for me. My father and I stare at each other. After a long, heavy silence, he says I have, in a way, actually upheld the family tradition and done one better. Albeit my firm isn’t a big law firm, I made partner before I turned thirty-two. Not only that, it’s a damn good firm. They aren’t the exact words I wanted to hear, but they’re good enough for me.
Chapter 24
BAM. BAM.
“I can’t believe I’m going to a real MMA fight.”
An excited Penny bounces around the reception area as I rush to finalize the settlement agreement. Farnsworth is going out of the country tomorrow, and I need everything signed before he leaves. Ray stretches out on the old Victorian couch, folds up his newspaper, and sighs.
“You better keep your ass in the seat at the fight, or I’ll tie you to the f**king bench. I heard about you at the Slugs concert. There’ll be none of that on my watch.” He taps his chest, then points at his eyes, then points at Penny. Maybe he was in the mafia.
Penny freezes mid-bounce and her eyes narrow. “If I want to dance around the cage, that’s my business.”
Ray swings his feet down and glares. “You just try to dance around the cage, Pen. I’ll be all over your ass. We gotta find you a man who will look after you. A good man. Someone who’ll treat you right.”
“I had a man.” She folds her arms and glares.
“You had a worm.” He tosses the newspaper on the table, folded at the entertainment page. The headline catches my eye.
Slugs Front Man, Vetch Retch, Discharged from Hospital.
From a quick skim of the article, it appears Vetch was attacked in an alley outside a concert venue a few weeks ago. He suffered broken limbs, cracked ribs, a broken nose, and a concussion. He appears in the picture in a wheelchair, his arms and legs in casts, and his face a mass of bandages.
I look at Ray. Ray looks at me. I don’t ask. He doesn’t tell.
“I wasn’t talking about Vetch,” Penny snorts. “I had a life in England before I came out here. A different life with a decent man. And I had to leave it all behind.”
Penny has never talked about her past before, and I’m filled with curiosity. But before I can ask, she shakes an admonishing finger at Ray.
“Jake.”
I close my eyes and lean my temple against his cheek, soaking in his warmth. Although I desperately want to turn around, I know I’ll cry if I do, and I can’t let Farnsworth see I am anything other than cool, calm, and collected.
“I’m fighting tomorrow.” His breath is warm in my ear.
“I’ll be there.”
His hand finds mine and he slips something into my palm. And then he’s gone.
For a long moment, I remain motionless, remembering the feel of his arm around me, his heat, the softness of his cheek, the steady beat of his heart.
Finally, I raise my hand. He’s given me a picture. Me. In Redemption. My arms raised after my fifty push-up triumph. And on it, he has written, “In Your Corner.”
***
The meeting takes place in room thirteen. My lucky room.
Farnsworth postures and swaggers. He threatens to bring to light every sordid detail of my past, every sexual encounter I’ve ever had, every man I ever propositioned. I tell him I never had to proposition men. They came to me. Just like he did. But he was one of the few I turned down. His face turns an interesting shade of red, almost purple.
Undaunted, he stalks around the meeting room. He says he will ensure I am humiliated and embarrassed, my reputation in tatters, and my bank account empty when he’s done with me. He says I’ll have nothing left. Not even self-respect.
I tell him I will live on love, but of course he doesn’t understand.
Then I check my watch. I tell him I have a full schedule this afternoon, which involves kicking Reid’s ass in court again, and if he has no more stories to tell, perhaps we can get on with the settlement meeting.
He tells me Evil Reid is no longer with the firm. Given the complaint Mom filed with the California State Bar, I am not surprised.
My mouth waters when I shove a thick, blue—I told Penny it had to be blue—file folder across the table. “Take a look.”
Farnsworth takes a look. He pales when he sees the evidence I have collected about his penchant for propositioning vulnerable associates and the evidence Ray has collected tracing the hack on my computer to his firm, and the police report matching the fingerprints of his PI, Eugene Clements, to the fingerprints the police took from the break-in.
He pales even further when I give him my settlement terms: the equivalent of five years’ salary donated to the community legal aid clinic and the local battered women’s shelter and a public apology.
Farnsworth offers more money instead of the public apology. He also offers to retire early. This is not a big sacrifice on his part, since my mom told me had been talking about it for the last year. In the end, I accept his offer on the condition that the money is used to set up a self-defense program for women at the firm. I tell him I know a good teacher with an expertise in kickboxing.
That night, Mom invites me home for a celebratory dinner. The lights are on when I arrive. My parents are both there. The rich, tangy scent of spaghetti sauce fills the air. These are not normal things in Amanda’s world, but I don’t complain.
Mom gives me an awkward hug, and I thank her for all her help. She tells me she’s expecting me to call whenever I need her and she’ll always be there for me. My father and I stare at each other. After a long, heavy silence, he says I have, in a way, actually upheld the family tradition and done one better. Albeit my firm isn’t a big law firm, I made partner before I turned thirty-two. Not only that, it’s a damn good firm. They aren’t the exact words I wanted to hear, but they’re good enough for me.
Chapter 24
BAM. BAM.
“I can’t believe I’m going to a real MMA fight.”
An excited Penny bounces around the reception area as I rush to finalize the settlement agreement. Farnsworth is going out of the country tomorrow, and I need everything signed before he leaves. Ray stretches out on the old Victorian couch, folds up his newspaper, and sighs.
“You better keep your ass in the seat at the fight, or I’ll tie you to the f**king bench. I heard about you at the Slugs concert. There’ll be none of that on my watch.” He taps his chest, then points at his eyes, then points at Penny. Maybe he was in the mafia.
Penny freezes mid-bounce and her eyes narrow. “If I want to dance around the cage, that’s my business.”
Ray swings his feet down and glares. “You just try to dance around the cage, Pen. I’ll be all over your ass. We gotta find you a man who will look after you. A good man. Someone who’ll treat you right.”
“I had a man.” She folds her arms and glares.
“You had a worm.” He tosses the newspaper on the table, folded at the entertainment page. The headline catches my eye.
Slugs Front Man, Vetch Retch, Discharged from Hospital.
From a quick skim of the article, it appears Vetch was attacked in an alley outside a concert venue a few weeks ago. He suffered broken limbs, cracked ribs, a broken nose, and a concussion. He appears in the picture in a wheelchair, his arms and legs in casts, and his face a mass of bandages.
I look at Ray. Ray looks at me. I don’t ask. He doesn’t tell.
“I wasn’t talking about Vetch,” Penny snorts. “I had a life in England before I came out here. A different life with a decent man. And I had to leave it all behind.”
Penny has never talked about her past before, and I’m filled with curiosity. But before I can ask, she shakes an admonishing finger at Ray.
