Chicks, Man

He takes his index finger to his watch. “Tick-tock. This amazing story won’t wait for just anyone.”

I shake my head. “Goof. I’ll be right back.”

When I return, he’s gone. There’s a post-it note stuck to my computer screen, telling me he had to run and owes me a raincheck. Suddenly bummed, I check my watch and realize it’s way past lunchtime. With Levi missing in action since yesterday due to this case, I have no lunch date. Not that we really eat lunch when I’m in there. But it also triggers another emotion. I miss him. I debate on sitting in his chair and sniffing the leather to feel closer to him, but I’m not a weirdo, or a stalker, or psycho, so, like a normal human with a secret boyfriend, but not boyfriend, I walk down to the sub shop and have a lunch date with me, myself, and I.

Levi

“These aren’t the files. The testimonies. They’re wrong.” I’ve gone over the files a dozen times. Something’s missing.

“How could this have happened? We had them all contained. Each statement. Who entered them?” Jim runs his hands down his tie, as confused as I am.

Fuck, I can’t tell him, so I put the blame on myself.

“It was me. That’s how I know they’re wrong. These statements, it’s all bullshit.” What’s bullshit is I was too consumed with getting Hannah alone in my office that by the time we resurfaced, I only had time to skim the documents before entrusting Hannah to do her job and get it all entered correctly. But I can’t tell her father that.

“I think you’re just burning your candle at both ends. You’ve been working so hard on this. Head home for the night. Tomorrow, with a clear head, we’ll gather the team and research the files. This has to be a mistake. Hopefully a computer error.”

He’s right. The last hour has been pointless. The documents we’re reviewing are shit, but I can’t figure out why Hannah would enter false statements. Or not file the information correctly. Something’s fucked up. I’m not on my game. Normally, I’m a mastermind when it comes to memorizing things. Names, dates, numbers. The little mole behind Hannah’s left butt cheek or the tiniest little birthmark on the back of her neck. We’re a week away from trial. Get your shit together.

“Still with me?”

I shake my head. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Some rest will help clear my head. Let’s call it a night and reconvene in the morning.”

I leave Jim and head down to my office in hopes Hannah’s still here. Maybe I can get some answers from her without coming off as accusing. Peering at my watch, I realize it’s past seven. Shit. This week’s been insane. The only time I’ve been able to spend with her is during our private lunches where I call her in and she obeys, bringing her little notebook and shutting my door. My pants thicken at each memory, her over my desk, riding me in my chair, fucking her until I’m forced to shove my tie in her mouth so she doesn’t alert the entire floor I’m balls deep inside her.

Even though my mood plummets seeing her empty chair, my smile stays intact at how things have progressed since the gala. Hannah Matthews, my little firecracker. The best thing to have ever happened in my life was her deviant little ploy to get to me. She may have once been inexperienced, but her eagerness to learn, experiment…shit. I adjust myself so I don’t scare off the cleaning staff or take out the plaque sitting on top of my desk.

I grab my things and shut my light off to head home. I want nothing more than to see Hannah, not that showing up at the Matthews’ home would be out of the ordinary since I practically grew up there. But asking to hang out with their daughter doesn’t exactly stick to our rule of keeping us a secret. Not that we didn’t almost blow it the night of the gala. We weren’t smart. Two unwanted guests started asking questions when we disappeared. Hannah shot a text out to Braydon saying she felt sick and went home. I didn’t even bother sending one to Rebecca. I didn’t willingly bring her, nor was she my problem. After Hannah confessed about the night of Kipley’s wedding, I could have strangled my friends. If Hannah hadn’t stepped in…the possibility of Rebecca in that closet has me crawling out of my skin.

I run into Jim and the little shit-box at the elevator.

“Great work today, son. What’s on your evening agenda?”

Braydon smiles, not missing my snarl aimed right at him. “Thanks, sir. I was actually going to surprise your daughter, if that’s okay. I have tickets to see the new Marvel movie. I hear it’s really great.”