Mack, p.23
Mack, page 23
“You’re insane. You actually believe that, don’t you?” I shake my head. He has no idea how he’s killing me inside. How I’m shattering from within. “How’d you do it? Please. Just tell me that.”
His eyes dart away but quickly come back and find mine. For a brief second, there’s remorse on his face, but then it disappears as fast as it appeared. “A magician never tells.” He turns to walk inside.
“She’s going to be on the street. She can’t even afford movers to pack her things and she’s too old to do it. You made an old woman homeless, to save money for a bank. That’s on you.”
“Nope.” He turns around and points right at me. “It’s on you.”
He spins around and walks inside the house. The door slams shut.
I just stand there, hands trembling. A single tear slides down my cheek before I can make myself move. By the time I’m at my car, I can barely see through all the tears. I sit behind the wheel wondering how it went so wrong so fast. I wonder what I’m going to do, how I can make this right for Mrs. Winslow.
I thought even if we were really done, he might give me some idea of what he did, so I could try to reverse it. I thought he’d at least give me that much, and he didn’t.
I keep thinking this has to be a dream. The man who took me to the mansion for dinner will walk out of the house any second, we’ll embrace and both say we’re sorry and we were both wrong and all that stuff they do in books and movies.
But life doesn’t work that way.
He never comes back out.
Mack Mitchell
There’s chatter outside my office, typical for a Monday morning. People ask each other about their weekends, what they did, if anything exciting happened. If I paid attention, I’m sure I’d hear stories of concerts and dinners or a weekend spent out of town. All the distractions we give ourselves, the things we look forward to when we’re done with a week at the office.
It’s all white noise to me.
My chair is turned away from the door, my back to everything. I’ve been staring out the window for I have no idea how long. The entire morning, before the sun even peeked over the horizon.
Knuckles rap on the door behind me.
I turn to see Ryder. “Listen, about last…”
Ryder shakes his head and cuts me off. “No worries. Fucked the bartender.”
“I’m happy for you.”
He doesn’t smile, just takes a seat. “Heard she filed for an emergency hearing this morning.”
“News travels fast.”
“Figured you’d already be there.”
I check the time. It’s only quarter to eight. “I have a few minutes. It’s a done deal anyway. There’s nothing she can do.”
“Really?”
I nod.
A sly grin comes across his face. Not at what’s happening, but I know what he wants to hear.
He finally gives in. “Okay how? Don’t be a bitch.”
I glance around. Usually, I’d openly brag to him about how I got the outcome I wanted, wear it as a badge of honor. But now, after Presley, I feel dirty. I feel ashamed. I’ve never felt this way about winning, doing what was necessary. “Judge’s kid wants into a private school. I know people on the board. Made a phone call.”
“Fucking power move. That’s cold as shit.”
It doesn’t feel so powerful now. “The ruling will stand, and she won’t get any kind of extension. No matter what kind of performance she puts on.”
Ryder stands there for a long time, then blinks a few times. “Well Baxter loves your ass again. The golden child, partnership coming as soon as the bank has the house.” He glances at me again like he’s puzzled.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He shrugs. “It just feels like this should make you happy. Being able to deliver like that. Like Baxter gave you an ultimatum and you just made it happen out of thin air, thinking that up in an afternoon.”
“I always had that card to play, and at least ten others. I just didn’t.”
“Because of her.” He doesn’t really say it to me. More like he’s thinking out loud. “What’s done is done. The partnership will make you happy. You’ve worked hard for it.”
I nod. “Yeah.” For some Godforsaken reason, I tell him everything that happened last night. When I’m finished his eyes are huge, and he’s trying to suppress some kind of reaction.
“Holy fuck.”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Finally, after thinking it through, he shrugs. “Fuck it. You told her the truth. It is on her and you tried to buy her some extra time. That’s not your fault. You deserve to enjoy it when you win. And you deserve the partnership. You worked your ass off for it.”
“Doesn’t feel that way.”
“It’s done, bro. Just make the best of it.”
“I gotta go.”
“Sure.” He heads out of my office, shaking his head like he can’t believe everything he just heard. When he gets to the door, he turns back, and for the first time ever, he looks serious. “Hey?”
“Yeah?”
“Good luck facing her this morning. I know it won’t be easy.”
I give him a little nod, but inside it feels like I’m unraveling.
I keep thinking all these fucking feelings about Presley will just float away. They don’t. God, I miss her. It’s unreal how bad I still want her, how bad I want to take back what I did.
I miss touching her whenever I want. I’m lost without her, don’t even know who I am anymore. Maybe that’s why I’m still sitting here, glued to my chair. I have no idea how I’m going to face her in court this morning. How will I look her in the eye? It’s going to destroy me, from the inside out.
“Mack? Don’t you have to be at the courthouse soon?” Barbara materializes in my doorway out of nowhere.
How long was I standing here? How long was she standing there? And what did she hear?
I nod. “Yeah. I’m leaving.”
She takes a step inside and, to my surprise, closes the door behind her. It’s rare for her to close us off together like this unless she’s taking notes on an important call.
“What’s going on? Everything okay?”
Her eyes widen a fraction. “Was about to say the same thing to you.” She lowers her glasses down like she’s examining me. There’s a hint of menace behind them, but she tries to push it back.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Oh, I’m sure it is.” She leans against the closed door, arms folded. “Everything fine with opposing counsel you’re about to face off with?”
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “Can you not do this right now?”
“Who says I’m doing something?”
“Then what are you doing in here?”
She throws her hands into the air. “Men. I swear.”
“What?”
She glares right at me.
For some reason, I don’t think I’m getting out of this shit, and she’s going to make me late. I’m almost positive she heard everything. “I need to be at court.”
She steps right in my path.
I finally snap. “Jesus, what the hell? Pile it on then.” I wave both my arms at myself.
“Stop being ridiculous. She jerks her thumb at the door. “Ryder did have a point. You deserve to enjoy what you’ve worked for.”
“What’d you hear?”
“He wasn’t whispering.” She rolls her eyes. “I hate seeing you like this. You’re not you.”
What can I say? I shrug for lack of a comeback. “I appreciate the concern.”
“You don’t deny you’re miserable?”
“Please, Barbara.”
“You don’t deny it.” She sighs, tipping her head to one side. Her expression softens. “Look, kid. I’m gonna tell you something, and you’re gonna listen. You’re a good man. I don’t care what you’ve been telling yourself in that thick head of yours all day, but it’s true.”
She definitely didn’t hear the part about what I did to win.
“No matter how hard you work to prove me otherwise. I think there’s more to you than this place. More than a job, a client, a partnership. Those things don’t define you.”
I stand there, silent. I don’t know how to respond to that.
“I understand when you’re young, you have this sense of urgency. Fast-tracking your whole life. You get a picture in your head and you set your sights on it…” She sighs. “Work isn’t everything. Balance is important.”
“Balance doesn’t exist.”
She holds up a finger. “Shush. The adult is speaking now.”
Jesus Christ, I don’t have time for this.
She’s not wrong, though. I felt it with Presley, like so much more was possible. Like I was selling myself short in this goddamn place. Do I want to be like Jim Baxter? Is that the end game here? I feel like I’m about to break, right here in front of her. I didn’t know the feelings with Presley were this strong. Or, I didn’t want to believe it. “What am I supposed to do? The world is a zero-sum game. No matter what I do, someone loses.”
She takes a step toward me and pokes a finger in my chest. “Figure out what you want. And something tells me this ain’t it anymore. And don’t let anyone else figure it out for you.”
“Why does it have to be this difficult? Why do I have to give up everything I’ve worked for?”
“Does it feel right to you?” Her eyes harden on me, like all the disappointment inside her just filtered to the surface. “What you did?”
Fuck, she did hear.
I glance around the office, trying to avoid eye contact, but I slowly make my way back to her and shake my head slowly. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so ashamed in front of her.
Her face softens a little. “I’m not naïve, Mack. I know you’ve done things. Worse things than this, to win.”
“Why are you still here then?”
“Because I care about you.” She stares at me for a long time, then shrugs to lighten the mood a little. “And the insurance, of course.”
I snicker. “Jesus.”
She holds up a hand. “Just let me say one more thing, and then I’ll leave you alone. I know an assistant isn’t supposed to talk to her boss this way, but I can’t help it. I care about you. So, I’ll just leave you with this bit of information.” She stares long and hard at me once more. “I’d follow you anywhere.” With that, she turns and walks out the door.
I stand there for a long moment, speechless, looking around at my office, everything that defines me. What the fuck am I supposed to do with what she just said?
This place is my life. Has been for years.
Could I really give it all up? Just like that?
Presley Griffin
I do my best not to look nervous. Not with Mrs. Winslow standing there, her entire life at stake.
There’s a sound coming from the floor to my left. I don’t have to look to know it’s Mrs. Winslow tapping her foot again. She has every right to do it, but I still grind my teeth a little.
It’s distracting.
If it weren’t for me, she might not be in this position, so I guess I have it coming. If she had a competent attorney who didn’t let a misguided attempt at romance get in the way of professional duty, she’d be much better off.
I have to blink hard to get rid of the image of Mack, standing in the driveway, acting like this is my fault. He keeps popping up when I least expect him. The scene played through my head all weekend long. I just went over it, again and again, thinking so many things I wish I’d said. Different ways I could’ve cut him even deeper.
I literally have nothing. This is a disaster. I have no argument to present, other than to beg for an extension on the foreclosure proceedings. I still have no idea why they’d suddenly expedite it. The last time we were in here, Judge Lincoln seemed to be on our side. All I know is Mack did something. There’s no way the judge just thought on Friday let’s go ahead and clear this file and kick this lady out on the street.
Mrs. Winslow wrings her hands. “What time is it?”
I could remind her there’s a clock hanging on the wall just in front of us, but I don’t. “Five to nine.”
Her head is on a swivel, looking around the courtroom. I can tell she took pains to look good today, to wear her nicest outfit and shoes. For some reason this only makes my heart ache worse than before. “Where is everybody?”
“The judge will be here soon.”
“What about the other lawyer? Will he be here?”
I cringe and clench my fists under the table to will away the sudden rush of nausea. How circumstances change. My heart used to skip a beat when I saw him. I’d get butterflies in my stomach. Now, the thought of him makes me want to hurl.
“He’ll be here.” Yep, he’ll want to gloat. He’ll make sure I get the message, that I’m the nobody who thought they could withstand the boot heel of First National Bank. And I have to sit here and take it.
What is wrong with you? No matter what happens with the judge, I’ll go home to an apartment tonight. It’ll be my apartment tomorrow and next month and probably as long as I want it to be. I don’t have to wonder where I’ll sleep on Wednesday.
I turn to her, take her hands, and make a promise. “No matter what happens today, you’re going to be all right. I’ll do whatever I can to help, okay?”
“Unless you can afford my mortgage payments, I’m not sure what else there is.”
I want to die on the spot, because she trusted me, and I’m about to let her down. I want to choke Mack, I want to wallow in my feelings, but that’d be just as selfish as what he did, as the bank. Because this isn’t about me. It’s about her. I was supposed to protect her, and I didn’t. And I’m not sure I can turn this thing around. My confidence faded last Friday and it’s almost non-existent now.
“I wish I had money…” My voice catches. I don’t want her to see me like this, to hear me like this. There’s nothing more sobering than finding out the person you believed in doesn’t think you have a chance in hell.
She can’t see me look lost and broken.
The worst part is, I know Mack was partially right. He’s still a fucking asshole, but I should’ve never let up. I should’ve been fighting instead of going on dates and having fun with him. I owed her that.
The door opens behind me. I freeze up, suddenly cold all over, suddenly hyper-aware of every minute sound in the room. The snap of designer dress shoes against the floor. A briefcase landing on a table. A chair being pulled back and someone settling into it.
I know I have to look at him. There’s no way in hell I’m going to get out of that, as much as I want to. I have to appear professional, composed, in front of the judge.
I barely see him from the corner of my eye. He looks the same as ever. Perfectly put together in one of his Tom Ford suits, a shiny Rolex on his left wrist. His cologne wafts across, straight into my nose.
Every muscle in my body tenses at his presence, and the unbelievable urge to punch him and scream all the things I didn’t get a chance to scream—it all hits me at once, and I have to take a large breath without him noticing.
Fortunately, the door behind the bench opens, and we stand as Judge Lincoln enters the room. He acknowledges us before sitting.
“Ms. Griffin, I have a tight schedule today so make it quick.”
Well, this didn’t start well. I’d like to choke him to death too, but he’s the only key to me buying Mrs. Winslow some more time. “I appreciate you taking the time, Your Honor, as does Mrs. Winslow.”
The judge peers down at me. “Well? Why are we here?”
Here goes nothing. “Your Honor, we petitioned First National Bank with a forbearance request. Not only did they refuse to agree to the perfectly reasonable conditions laid out in the request, but they gave me no indication of whether I ought to pursue additional channels. We had hoped to avoid filing for bankruptcy on Mrs. Winslow’s behalf unless absolutely necessary, as of course you know such a filing would complicate matters across the board.”
He nods slowly. “Okay.”
“Instead of alerting my client or myself to the fact that they had no intention of acting in good faith, we received the notice from the court of the expedited foreclosure. It only gives my client a mere five days to pack up a lifetime’s worth of memories, possessions, necessities… It’s beyond cruel.”
“I would advise you to leave personal opinion and anecdotes out of your argument, Counselor. And I’m aware of the accelerated proceeding. I signed it. The court is backed up.” He squirms a little, like he doesn’t believe the excuse he just gave, and doesn’t want to look at Mrs. Winslow or me.
What the hell did Mack do?
“I understand, Your Honor. But we would humbly request an extension…”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Ms. Griffin. I can assure you I already took all the facts into consideration when I made the decision.”
Shit.
I glance down at Mrs. Winslow. “Perhaps the very real consequences of your ruling would sound better coming from my client, whose life is the one First National Bank is disregarding when demanding she vacate the house by the end of the day tomorrow.”
I hear Mack’s sharp intake of breath and want so bad to see the look on his face. Would it be surprise? Snark? Resentment? I’ll never know, because I don’t dare so much as glance at him. I don’t know what I’ll do if I have to see him.
Judge Lincoln clears his throat. “Ms. Griffin, this is—”
“Please, Your Honor.” Mrs. Winslow begins to stand, tears now streaming down her cheeks. “I did everything I was supposed to do. My husband and I were always careful with our money. We saved every penny we could. And since he died, I’ve lived on only what I need, with our savings going to my house payments and other bills. I never paid late until our savings ran out. I’ve done everything I can to scrape together what I can, but it’s not enough. I was told I’d be taken care of by the pension—that’s the reason my husband stayed in that job as long as he did, even when his knees started to go out. He wanted to make sure we were fully vested in case something happened to him. The same bank is holding up the money I need to pay them. It’s been months! They won’t give me my money or we wouldn’t even be here right now. They can just take it from the balance for all I care.”
