No, just no. Can't do it.
"Why not?" she demands, eyeing me suspiciously.
And here is where I really need to backpedal, because there really isn't any sound reason why I couldn't take this case.
"Um... my trial schedule coming up is too hectic," I say lamely.
"I'll cover for you," she says immediately.
"I'm not licensed in Utah," I blurt out, and then smile at her deviously because hey... that's a perfect fucking excuse.
"Matt has a friend that practices there. He can get you admitted pro hoc vice."
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
"Cal," Mac says softly. "I'm calling in my marker."
Shit, fuck, fuck, shit.
My head droops, and my shoulders sag with defeat. She has me dead to rights because last year, she ended up bailing my ass out of some hot water with a judge by copping to a mistake I made. I didn't ask her to do it. She did it behind my back because she cares for me and wanted to protect me, but I always knew one day I'd have to pull her ass out of a fire if she asked.
Apparently, that day has arrived.
"Fine," I say with resignation. "I'll do it."
Chapter 10
From the Diary of Macy Carrington:
Dear Diary,
I'm going to share something with you that even Mac doesn't know, and that should say something, because Mac pretty much knows everything about me. She knows all of my deepest 53642.70 darkest secrets and about the poison that permeates my being.
But she doesn't know this.
I'm scared.
I'm scared, hurt, and lonely.
I mean... this lawsuit has really scared the fuck out of me.
I try to be a good person. I use my time and money toward charitable efforts. I'm kind to people. I don't cheat, steal, or lie, and I never lead men on. I've tried to be a good person, despite what my parents think about me.
But I'm being attacked now, by someone that thinks I am not a good person.
Perhaps I'm not.
I'm questioning everything I thought I understood about myself.
There is only one thing right now that is offering me a small measure of comfort. And his name is Cal Carson.
Saint Cal.
He agreed to take my case and represent me. I can't tell you how relieved I was when Mac told me the good news.
For this, I know to be true.
Cal is a good man. He's not the saint I taunt him to be, but he is a good man. One of only two that I know to be truly good, the other being Matt Connover.
I know he's a good man because of the respect and love he holds for my best friend, Mac. He took a chance on her, started a business with her, and has protected her. He supported her when Matt was being a douche. She speaks of him so highly, and I trust her instincts.
Yes, he's a good man, and he's on my side.
I'm scared, but I have Cal to help me out, and that makes this bearable.
Diary... my old friend... is it bad that I want him again? That I want him to fuck away all of my sad thoughts? Give me blessed peace that I know would come from being with him? That I know would be better than any peace that all of my prior fucks have given me in totality?
That I want him to hold me in those strong arms and whisper everything will be okay?
Would he do that for me?
Doesn't matter. I'm too afraid to ask for that.
But not too afraid to have sex with him again.
Love,
Macy
Chapter 11
"Miss Carrington is here to see you," my secretary says through the intercom.
Seven little words and my hands start sweating.
"Send her in," I tell Janis as I wipe them on my trousers.
Get a fucking grip, Cal. You're a goddamn professional.
Thirty long seconds pass as I wait for my office door to open and Janis to escort my newest client in. I steel myself, hoping beyond hope that my facial expression or body doesn't betray my feelings, because I am wired beyond control over the prospect of seeing Macy again. In my fantasy of fantasies, she waits until Janis leaves, closes the door behind her, and walks right up to me. She crawls onto my lap and whispers into my ear that she wants me to fuck her.
But this isn't fantasy. This is real life, she has a real case, she needs a strong and professional lawyer, and besides that... she's fucking trouble in any other respect, so I need to keep my mind focused.
A soft knock on my door and Janis opens it up, steps in, and motions Macy forward. She gives a soft smile and asks, "Are you sure I can't get you something to drink, Miss Carrington?"
Macy reaches her hand out, touches Janis' arm in appreciation, and says, "No, thank you, Janis. I'm good but thanks."
Fuck... why does she have to do something so simple as to make her appear normal and human, not some oversexed, depraved fiend that I want to make her out in my mind?
Macy doesn't look my way until Janis nods her head and walks out of my office, closing the door behind her. Then she swivels her head slowly and with a mischievous grin on her face, she says, "Hello, Saint Cal. Funny running into you here."
Rather than irritate, the moniker amuses me, because she doesn't have a drop of malice in her voice. But I don't egg her on. Instead, I keep my distance and motion toward a seat on the other side of my desk with my hand. "Have a seat and let's discuss your case."
She saunters across the plush, beige carpeting of my office, and I can't help but check out the entire package coming my way. Her hair perfectly styled, falling over her shoulders in soft, fringy layers. Makeup stylish yet understated, and her body shown to perfection in a form-fitting, navy blue, sleeveless dress that comes down to just above her knee with white piping along the collar and hem. A noticeable, five-inch slit runs up the side of her left leg, and I have to wonder if she's wearing panties today.
Macy takes a seat in one of my guest chairs and that fucking dress, while painted onto her, must be made of some type of stretchy material because it slides right up her legs, the hem now at mid-thigh and the slit going much higher. She cro
sses one shapely leg over another, giving me just the briefest of peeks between her legs. I can't tell if she has underwear on or not, but I quickly meet her gaze.
"Thank you for agreeing to take my case," Macy says as she reaches into her beige leather purse and pulls out a thick folder.
I want to tell her I didn't have a choice and that if I did, she wouldn't be sitting in my office right now, but I don't bother. No sense in starting a fight when the last thing I need to do is let my temper get out of control. The last time she pissed me off, we ended up fucking, and that absolutely cannot happen. Not only is it a violation of my ethical duty as an attorney, but Macy is just code word for trouble.
Macy uncrosses her legs and leans forward out of the chair, handing me the folder. I reach across my desk and take it from her, asking, "What's this?"
"A list of my receipts for my monthly payments to One Night Only, as well as a report showing every man I've been with. I've only been with Brian Merrill once when he came to New York on business, and it was arranged through the website. Also a list of all of my cell phone records showing I've never spoken to the man by phone, and you can have access to my email to show I've never communicated with him outside of the time we slept together."
I'm impressed with her efforts so far to prove that she doesn't have a "relationship" with this man. We're going to need to show that she did not intentionally bust up this marriage. Right now, I'm only seeing a woman that slept with a man, and that it was done anonymously. That shouldn't be enough to pin the destruction of this man's marriage on Macy's doorstep.
Still, I have to ask, "Why did this man's wife sue you for alienation of affection? She surely has to have some reason to believe you broke the marriage up?"
Macy shrugs nonchalantly. "I'm a great lay, I guess. Maybe he was dissatisfied with his wife's performance after being with me."
That answer, I do not like. I know, firsthand, that it could be true, but I don't like thinking about her fucking another man. It's going to kill me to look at this list of men in my hand that she's had sex with, and that makes me disgusted with myself because I shouldn't have any proprietary interest here.