Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Baz’s heart was in his throat when the elevator doors opened to the associates’ floor. He wasn’t sure what he expected—whispers and side glances following him, perhaps, or an unmarked envelope on his desk with pictures of Sami and him in bed.
But nothing happened. No looks, no threats, not even a text from Sami. Things might actually be normal. Huh. Who said he couldn’t have both: the career-making case and a hot affair with the strangest person he’d ever met?
Coming home to find no Sami lingering in the hallway was a relief. And a disappointment, even more so when the coast remained clear the next day. And the day after. And the weekend. Clearly, boundaries were intact and the casualness of their arrangement asserted.
So when Annoying Stalker popped up on his screen on Monday morning while he was filing a patent, that obviously meant nothing to Baz.
He could easily drag his eyes back to the paper.
His hand itched with the urge to reach for his phone—he tightened his fingers around the pen. The screen went dark again.
Anyway.
Correspondence address…
It wouldn’t be anything important, would it? Sami was smarter than to reach out directly regarding their case. Although, he and Sami didn’t exactly have a track record of sane choices. What if Ian had found out about them and this was Sami trying to warn him?
Baz snatched his phone, pressed on the notification—
do you think the word nosy comes from noses peeking through the gap when you spy through an opening
A snort escaped Baz entirely against his will. How silly of him to think Sami had anything important to say.
Is that your way of saying you’re spying on me?
how dare you accuse me of such a thing
nice tie by the way ;)
Uh huh. Well, it was a nice tie—burgundy silk with white dots that matched his shirt—but all his ties were nice, so this wasn’t even a lucky guess.
Baz’s thumb hovered above the laughing emoji. He locked the screen instead. Sami didn’t need the validation.
The lack of reply didn’t stop Sami. Barely two hours later, Baz got a meme from him.
A lawyer pun the next day. Odd, random facts started to appear in his inbox on a daily basis; about what Sami labeled ‘ginormous campy squirrels’ (Baz gave him that, the Indian Giant Squirrel was extraordinarily colorful) or how much of the world population lived within sixty miles of an ocean (sixty percent).
fun fact of the day
did you know there are more trees on earth than stars in the milky way
Baz huffed a smile. There was never any guessing what Sami’s mind fabricated.
That can’t be right. Who the hell is counting either?
scientists
duh
So glad our tax money is going to important causes.
i know right
they get paid to count stars meanwhile you work twenty hours a day and still can’t afford furniture :(
How many times did he have to tell Sami it was not a matter of affordability, but prioritization? Not to mention that he had more than enough—his office phone rang. Ian’s number was on the display.
Baz’s heart paused for a worryingly long moment. Was Sami with him? Had Ian seen their messages? Would he be stupid enough to threaten Baz over the phone?
Baz swallowed the sour taste in his mouth—his thickening throat made the endeavor near impossible—and ripped the phone off its station. “Hello?”
“Sebastian. Always a pleasure.”
Dick.
“Ian.”
“Hate to disappoint, but I did warn you my client would not agree to your bloated terms.”
That was all? Baz covered his mouth with his fist to muffle the shaky laugh.
Ian didn’t request a renegotiation, only asked if Baz was sure he was doing his clients a service by advising them not to take Captain Green’s offer. Baz hung up without reply. These mind games had stopped working on him three years ago.
This did mean two things: one, it was time to gear up for trial; two, Sami was proving to be a man of his word, a completely neutral fact Baz did not care about beyond the need for self-preservation.
But since this wasn’t a trap… Baz opened the chat with Sami, bumped underneath his group chat with Eevee and Joel where Eevee was busy convincing him to come by for lunch to try Joel’s latest sandwich creation.
Your boss sucks.
He bit his lip as he regarded the message, his first time initiating contact, before he hit send.
The reply was almost immediate.
theres that razor sharp wit i so adore
you catch on quick
Funny. How do you put up with him?
with several layers of protection
…what kind of protection?
OMG NO
EW
neVER
how dare you put that image in my head after ive been so nice to you!!
This is you being nice??
eh yes?
youll find the vatican is considering me for sainthood as we speak
Baz chuckled. Such a dork. But one with just enough sense to stay away from Ian, which counted for something.
There was no world in which Baz would have believed Ian was anything other than aggressively heterosexual, but just the thought they might have shared sexual partners had the hairs on his arms standing to attention.
Or maybe he just didn’t like the thought of sharing Sami.
His phone buzzed again. Good lord, Sami was on a roll today—Eevee. Never mind.
So? Are you gonna come?
Baz sighed. He needed to get started with the trial prep—which meant he’d be so swamped in paperwork, he wouldn’t have time to see her for a while.
The guilt from not making enough time for her was gnawing at him like a hungry hamster Baz didn’t care to feed any further.
He could squeeze in one lunch before he disappeared into the pits of the legal world.
Here was hoping she wouldn’t spring any more Jack-related surprises on him.
On my way.
But not before stopping by Aya’s office to let her know about the latest developments too.
“Guess we’re going to court,” was her mumbled reaction. She was not appropriately thrilled at the prospect of wiping the floor with Ian.
The biggest challenge would be spending all that time in a room with Sami without getting distracted by the way he’d lust over Baz’s expertise.
“I’m going to file the motion for class certification this afternoon. Can you set up a date with Vanessa Martinez to prep her?”
“Sure thing. Boss.”
A wave of warmth made Baz’s chest swell. Boss. He could get used to that. One day, with an associate of his own. After he sent Ian to hell.
Twenty minutes later, he walked into the Catfé and got greeted by the smell of garlic.
Lucipurr’s yellow eyes glowed in the cave she was hiding in. Stretching through her body, she tapped over. Oh, what the hell. Baz squatted down, offered his hand for a sniff inspection—the hearty hiss made him flinch back.
Lucipurr glared at him as if to say how dare you assume we could be friends, you peasant. Fair enough. Didn’t stop her from following him behind the counter to supervise him hugging Eevee and Joel, though.
Joel’s new sandwich creation was a vegan take on a New Orleans’s Muffuletta, with garlic-roasted vegetables instead of the traditional cold cut.
The only meat in the Catfé was for the cats, thanks to Lucipurr stealing customer’s food back before they went veggie.
How Joel still got insecure enough about his immaculate culinary skills to require a taste tester Baz might never understand, but he wouldn’t argue with the privilege either.
Lucipurr hovered next to him on the bench, just out of Baz’s reach, no doubt plotting her revenge for Baz’s intrusion into her space.
Eevee shared stories from her morning at UChicago, helping the students figure out their future career options.
One business major apparently dreamed of running a cat café of her own, so now Eevee was trying to convince Joel to hire her as extra help for the admin side of things so he could focus on the kitchen only.
Judging by the indulgent smile Joel wore and the way he placed a kiss on her head before tending to the customers, she wasn’t far off from succeeding.
The question of what was new with him was expected, and yet, he scrambled for an answer. Should he tell her about Sami? What was there to tell? I hooked up with a guy and now he’s texting me nonsense all day?
No. People who already had their happily ever after had precious little understanding for casual hookups.
During the years they lived together, every time he had come home the morning after a date rather than the night of, Eevee had that spark in her eyes, the one that said are you finally not alone anymore that itched under his skin.
She was too much of a hopeless romantic to not make a big deal out of nothing.
For now, sticking to the safer subject of work it was.
Until Eevee suddenly got very interested at the pieces of arugula and red onion that had crash-landed on her plate. “I spoke to Dad earlier. Just briefly. He wants to meet up and talk in person.”
Baz’s ass clenched. Of course he did. Manipulating people was easier if Jack could put on his pity-me show, but Baz couldn’t say that, so he took a sip of his water to stop the words from slipping out.
Eevee didn’t ask him to join. He didn’t offer.
Their argument wasn’t exactly an elephant in the room, but it was a mosquito. Small, easily overlooked until its obtrusive scream came too close to their ears, and if they didn’t watch it carefully, it would suck their blood and make them sick.
The easiest way to get rid of a mosquito—since killing it was off the table—was to escape it altogether. First with a change of topic, about just how talented her husband was—Eevee was always ready to brag about him—and then with a swift goodbye.
The upside of meeting during the day: work offered the perfect excuse to escape uncomfortable topics.