Chapter 24
Unfortunately, I am the only one who got the revenge memo.
I knew Leonard’s was a lawyer bar. I did not know Leonard’s was corporate lawyer bar. Sharks, but not the kind I need for my revenge plan. Not even close. These guys would take a look at outside-the-law revenge planning and pass out. None of them have the backbone for what I need in a co-counsel for my hypothetical-slash-fantasy Robin Hood firm.
But at least the cocktails are good.
Taking Callie to any bar is the ideal way to end up ignored. She’s magnetic and conventionally beautiful, the perfect storm. So the corporate lawyers swarmed around her until a collection of four decided they’d try their hand at getting in good with her at the same time. She’s having a splendid time discussing torts with them, and I am having a grand time chatting with my cocktail.
It’s a far more interesting conversation.
I should probably pretend to be listening so I can get her cast-offs, but I can’t be bothered. Not even correcting one of those boobs about the law will pull me out of my funk, and that is saying something. Part of me wants to say, “No, Bradley, tort reform is not, in fact, good for the average person. Oh, why, you ask? Because average people need to be able to sue those who take advantage of them!” But convincing one guy of the obvious will do nothing in the long-term, so the idea barely moves the needle on my mood. Can’t even get my back into it.
Tonight is a bust.
But Callie made all this effort to come and get me and try to cheer me up by surrounding me with hot guys, and I feel like I should make an effort, too. So, I scroll through my social media to pass the time.
“Are you a redditor?”
I blink, taken from my reverie. “What?”
The guy next to me smiles, all friendly. I hadn’t even realized he’d peeled off from the group to speak to me at the bar. “Noticed you’d rather be on your phone than talk with everyone else. Thought you might have been more involved than your average social media user.” He’s cute in a bland sort of way. Dark hair, dark eyes, good chin. “Do you moderate a Reddit page or something?”
And he does absolutely nothing for me.
“Uh no. I am here against my will, thanks to the good will of my friend.”
He nods. “That explains the vacant expression you’ve been wearing. Let me guess. Not a lawyer?”
I laugh. “Well actually?—”
“Most women who come here aren’t. Don’t feel bad. We can get pretty intense about all of this when we get going, and that tends to exclude other people. We don’t mean to, though. Especially when the other people are so pretty.”
That was a clumsy flirt, but I’ll allow it. “So, why do most women come here, then?”
“To hook up with lawyers, mostly. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure why I’m here right now.”
“Some come here for free legal advice, too. So it varies a little,” he goes on, kind of ignoring me until he turns his gaze sharper. It makes him cuter when he looks like he has actual thoughts in his head, so I don’t mind it. “Let me guess what you do.”
I smirk. Can’t help it. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“You teach eighth grade at a private school.”
An unrestrained laugh pops out of me. “Hardly.”
He looks me over. “Admin to a magazine executive?”
“Keep trying.”
He leans in close. “Naughty librarian?”
“Strike three. Have a nice night. I’m going back to my phone?—
“Come on. You’d be hot dressed up like a naughty librarian, all stuffy with a little lace showing. Bet you’d get into it, too. You liked to be spanked, right?”
“Gotta go.” I weave through the patrons to get some distance between me and that dude, because damn, that got creepy fast. No matter what Callie says, I do not need contact with other humans, especially other lawyers. When I get to a quiet corner, I check my phone again, desperate for some distraction.
A text from Anderson. Need to talk.
It must be my lucky fucking night. From the guy who wants to spank me to the one who did. I am out, can’t talk.
I’ll come to you. This is urgent.
Either he’s decided to pay up or he’s figured out some way to drag this out to amuse himself. If he’s actually in a paying mood, I need to see him. If it’s the other thing, I can tell him to take a hike. Maybe I can get the Naughty Librarian Guy to kick his ass. He seemed drunk enough to try.
So, I respond, I’m at Leonard’s Bar. Do you know it?
Be there in 5.
That’s fast. Whatever he’s on about must be important. Or he’s readying the next phase of this prank. I wish I had a better history with Anderson; that he hadn’t been such a fucking bastard for so many years. That I could believe he’s on the up and up. It’d be nice to think this was all just one big banking error, and he’s been working tirelessly to get it sorted out.
But I have a long memory, and it is scarred by that man.
I’m not na?ve. Not anymore. I will not be sleeping with him ever again. That needs to be the first thing out of my mouth when he comes in. If he comes in. Or he’ll stand me up, like a coward. Nah. He won’t stand me up. He has too much fun dicking me over.
I half expect to see his friend Tag some place in here, ready to watch Anderson take me down and getting into position to hit me with a double zinger of his own. He used to do that—wait until Anderson’s insults hit, then join in with one of his own. Tag was many things, but original was not one of them. Wonder what he’s up to these days.
So, I check out his social. Pic after pic of him on yachts with bikini-clad women under his arms. Him in a race car. Him, playing golf in some exotic locale. It’s all I can do not to barf. He’s the kind of man my imaginary clients would need revenge on. His family is involved in law and real estate, and they own properties around the world, enabling him to travel on the company dime and call it work.
In short, I hate Tag McAllister.
I’m sure there is no end to the people he’s screwed over. Like Anderson.
It’s strange, though. As much as I want to loathe Anderson—and part of me actively does—I also think he was embarrassed by his account being frozen. If all of this is an act, it’s a hell of an act. He never used to have the kind of acting chops it would take to pull all of this off, and he could have learned to be a better actor for sure, but it’s hard to believe. I mean, I know he hated me back in the day, but for him to go to these lengths? Extreme, even for him.
And then, there’s the Kalen Black of it all.
The one proof that Anderson West has more depth to him than I ever credited him with. If he hadn’t helped that kid, then I could believe this was all just Anderson being the pompous piece of shit I always thought he was. But when I brought Kalen up, he was uncomfortable. It was as though he felt exposed. Vulnerable.
So, he’s not a hundred percent grade-A asshole. So what? He’s still screwing me out of my freedom. A freedom I didn’t even think was possible.
When a dark-haired, tall man walks in, I find myself leaning to see if it’s him. No. But I keep watching the door. I should rejoin the others—I’m sure Naughty Librarian Guy has moved on. I don’t want Anderson thinking I’m antisocial, no matter how antisocial I am. He might get the right impression.
Not that his impression of me matters. I just need to look payable. Not fuckable. I am never fucking Anderson West again.
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