Duress （n.） – Olivia
DURESS (N.):
REFERS TO A SITUATION WHERE ONE PERSON MAKES UNLAWFUL THREATS OR OTHERWISE ENGAGES IN COERCIVE BEHAVIOR THAT CAUSES ANOTHER PERSON TO COMMIT ACTS THAT THEY WOULD OTHERWISE NOT COMMIT.
OLIVIA
Two Weeks Later
Judge Asshole (Don’t Change His Name Again)
I asked you for that Dawson case file an hour ago.
Your research is still giving “surface level” to me.
Where are those dockets I asked for?
My feet throbbed in my new heels as I ran from the library to chambers for the umpteenth time today.
Every time I completed one task, Judge Ashton smacked me with another, and I was starting to feel like his task list was personal.
More than personal.
He was still making me pick him up in the mornings, but I was putting a stop to that at the end of this week. And after I caught sight of my watch telling me that I’d taken twenty thousand steps in this building today, I was calling it a night.
With or without his permission.
Carrying his latest request into his office, I set it on the edge of his desk.
“Miss Spencer, I need you to go to Logan’s and grab my dinner.” He spoke without looking up at me. “Then I need you to pick up my dry cleaning for the week.”
“The dry cleaning place is closed at this hour, Judge Ashton.” I tried not to roll my eyes. “And I’m not driving fifteen miles outside the city just to get you dinner.”
“I wasn’t making a request, Miss Spencer.”
“You had to be, since you’re asking for things that aren’t in my job description.” I shrugged. “But if you like, I can go down to the judicial oversight office and tell them just how terribly you’ve been treating me lately.”
“I’ve been treating you exactly how you deserve.” His eyes finally met mine.
“Like shit?”
“Like someone who owes me something.” His eyes darkened.
“The only thing I owe you is two weeks’ notice, Judge Ashton,” I said. “I just can’t afford to quit right now.”
“So, when exactly will you be able to do that?”
“You’ll find out when I place the letter on your desk.”
“If you think I won’t sue you for the breach of contract—”
“I know you will,” I said. “It won’t be until I at least reach the proper amount of months.”
He clenched his jaw.
“Well, until then…” He glared at me. “You can pick up my dinner at The Mint Bistro. You’re more than welcome to pick up something for yourself as well. I’m feeling quite generous tonight.”
“Well, thank you very much.” I forced a smile. “I’ll do that.”
“So glad we’re on the same page.” He took his credit card from his wallet and slid it toward me. “You can leave now.”
I stepped out and waited until I heard the click of his chamber doors locking behind me.
Then I packed up my things and drove home.
“Oh my god, you’re home early for a change!” Lindsay sat up on the couch once I walked through the door. “Just in time for a toxic romance documentary and wine. You in?”
“Absolutely.” I dropped my bag to the floor. “I would love that.”
“Great! Do you want red or white wine?”
I didn’t answer.
I stood still, looking around at the new pink living room decor I hadn’t had the time to notice. There was even a half-deflated bouquet of mylar balloons in the corner that read “Congrats on Surviving Another Week in Hell!”
“When did you buy me those?” I asked her.
“Sam grabbed them last weekend.” She shrugged. “I told him you laughed when you saw them.”
“I honestly can’t remember the last time I laughed…”
She patted the cushion next to her, but I couldn't make my body cooperate. My legs were too numb.
“Okay, I’ll help you.” She stood up and grabbed my hand, pulling me down next to her.
“Is your job really that bad?” she said. “Like on a scale of one to ten with one being the worst…”
“It’s a negative two hundred,” I said. “Whenever he’s not hating me, he’s overworking me, or trying to get me to slip up with one of his sexual innuendos.”
“Then report him. ASAP.”
“To whom?” I looked at her. “Everyone thinks the sun rises and falls on his ass.”
“Red wine it is.” She leaned forward and filled a coffee mug to the brim. “Drink it all. Please.”
I downed it within seconds.
“Can you keep a secret, Lindsay?”
“Not, not really.”
“Can you keep it for a few hours, then?”
“Yeah, I can totally do that.”
“I’ve touched myself to this man every night—and it’s gotten even worse since we kissed one night in his office.”
“Why the hell would I ever tell that to anyone?”
“And I almost regret busting the windows out of his cars several weeks ago. Almost.”
“You did what?”
“Something came over me after he screwed me over in court, and I just…” I paused. “I snapped.”
“You stalked him?”
“No.” I paused. “Yes.”
“How bad was the damage?”
“His cars are still being fixed,” I said. “The Ferrari got it worse than the McLaren, though.”
“Holy shit, Liv…” Her eyes widened. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“You think I should just admit to what I did and apologize?” I looked at her. “Maybe he’ll hate me a little less? Would he make me return the clothes?”
“I think you should drink the rest of the wine bottle, watch this documentary with me, and continue using his face as your pussy’s muse until you’re allowed to quit six months from now.”
“So, that’s a no to telling him.”
“It’s a fuck no.” She looked terrified. “Never.”