26. Chapter 26
Chapter twenty-six
Baz did not give them hell. He was in hell, however; the winds of the second circle fanned the flames of regret that reduced every thought that didn’t revolve around Sami to ash.
His opening argument was an out-of-body experience. Gun to his head, it would go off before he could recall any of it. He tried to focus, really did, prayed muscle memory and good prep would get him through. It did, sort of. But then it was Ian’s turn.
When he spoke about the different types of cancers the plaintiffs were diagnosed with, Baz’s brain plagued him with the agony in Sami’s eyes, the fear Ian had evoked in him.
When Ian went after Vanessa Martinez, exemplifying her non-typical cancer progression that had caused the amputations of her toes, all Baz could hear was Sami’s voice in his head: Screw ups will not be tolerated, and every screw up is Sami’s fault.
The predatory nature of his employment had never been a secret, yet Baz had done nothing. No wonder Sami ran away from him.
Aya saved his ass multiple times when he didn’t hear the judge’s question, too lost in the world of what never would be again. And Ian dared to smirk at him like everything was going to plan. Hell, if Ian had planned for this, down to the show in the bathroom, man, he deserved the fucking win.
If only Baz had been smart enough to cut his losses when he knew he had to. But no, he had to go and bare his fucking soul to a man who didn’t want it. Allegedly.
After days of grappling with having fallen victim to a con artist, now that Sami had told him where to shove it, his masochistic brain refused to believe it. The worst part? Whether Sami had meant it or not made no difference.
Sami deserved someone caring, someone who would be there for him the way he had been for Baz.
Someone who could have difficult conversations without losing his mind over them for days first. Someone worthy of his trust. Baz had been stupid to think that could ever be him. He wasn’t relationship material.
“Anything else you’d like me to consider, counselor?” The judge’s voice permeated through the fog.
“Uhm.” His eyes darted to Aya, who shook her head. Whether in disapproval or because they were done, Baz didn’t know, but it was all he had to go on. “No, Your Honor.”
“Then I’m ready to rule. I’m dismissing the motion for class certification on grounds of the plaintiffs’ too individualized injuries.”
Baz closed his eyes, bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.
Forty-two times. He’d have to endure Ian’s face and the painful reminder of what he had lost another forty-two times. Assuming all his plaintiffs would stick around for a mass tort that would demand so much more from them individually than a class action would have.
And still, all Baz could think about was how many of those trials Sami would attend. Whether Baz would get the chance to apologize, see that Sami was all right.
Next to him, an animated Vanessa Martinez asked what this meant, how they would proceed. Baz couldn’t bring a word past his lips. Aya got this. She didn’t need Baz. No one did.
No one should.
“I knew this would be easy.” Ian smirked. All he had achieved was increasing his own workload, but if that had been the goal, congratu-fucking-lations.
Baz collected his papers, kept his eyes trained on his hands as he stowed them into the binder. Ian leaned against his table, arms crossed in front of his chest, gloating.
“Thanks for playing, lover boy.”
“Fuck you.” It came from the pits of Baz’s soul, the most heartfelt fuck you he had ever uttered.
If he’d had the capacity to feel anything through the hollowness eating him inside out, he imagined that would have felt pretty damn good.
As it was, he had nothing more than an eyeroll to spare for Ian’s theatrical gasp and walked out before he got held in contempt.
The way this had gone, he wasn’t sure Aya would bail him out.
She was deadly quiet in the car back to the office. No post-trial analysis, no interrogation of what he thought he had done wrong, only a faraway stare out of the window. She must have known talking was pointless.
One thing about Aya, she didn’t kick dogs when they were already down. Lord knew what Erika had to say, though. He couldn’t get himself to care.
Instead, he pulled out his phone. No new notifications.
He opened the chat with Sami anyway. If they’d never speak again, there was one more thing he deserved to hear.
I’m sorry.
If Baz were good with words, he might have been able to produce something more profound, something that would fix everything he had broken today, but he wasn’t. Sami had the right idea by breaking up with him.
The plan was to hide in his office all day, keep his head down, and beg time to move quicker. The universe couldn’t even grant him that tiny bit of respite, because of course Erika wanted to see him right away. Alone.
Could today get any worse?
The air was thin on the top floor. His head was spinning. Every step toward the dark cave of Erika’s light-flooded office was like pushing a boulder up a hill. Her gaze was daggers piercing through his gut: he could bleed to death and still wouldn’t care about it anymore than she would.
He all but slumped into the chair opposite her, stared at the black, polished stapler on her desk.
“Do you care to explain what the hell happened today?” Her voice was a low, restrained rumble.
Too much. He had only gone and screwed up the best thing in his life because he had been too much of a coward to talk to Sami right away.
“A minor setback,” Baz said.
“Minor,” Erika echoed. A shiver trembled through Baz. “Let’s review. I told you to settle the case. You failed. You promised you’d win at court, now you’ve lost class certification.”
Yup, that about summed it up. Not that it mattered. Class or no class, the clients would get their justice, it would just take a little longer. But he might never get to hold Sami again.
“You sat here, in my office, and swore up and down you would handle this case professionally and delicately. And yet, I just got off the phone with a seething Ian Terell who said you have been trying to get access to sensitive information by screwing his assistant and you aggressively antagonized him after the hearing!”
Baz antagonized him? He wasn’t the one who had verbally assaulted Sami!
“That is a gross misconstruction of what happened.” He owned up to his poor performance, but he wouldn’t let Ian play the victim.
“But it did happen?”
“Sami and I never discussed the case, and Ian is the one who—”
“So, you admit you’ve been screwing his employee.”
Baz pressed his lips together. Shit.
“Do I really have to explain the ethical stipulations to you? What this looks like? Half the state is watching this trial and you’ve turned it into a soap opera!”
Exactly why he didn’t want anyone to find out!
And Ian wouldn’t have if Baz had been smarter today, and that load, what it did to Sami, he had no idea how to live with.
But this oh-so-upset phone call had hissy fit written all over it, and if Erika didn’t see that, she was not the cunning lawyer Baz had thought she was.
“Ian Terell is the actual devil, who cares what he thinks happened?”
“He threatened to report you to the bar, Sebastian! Do you know how much ass I had to kiss to get him to calm down?”
“That would never go through. He has no proof of his accusations because they aren’t true. I promise you, I have broken no official rules.”
“Be that as it may. You are off the case.”
Baz’s heart stopped.
“What?” It came out as a whisper. No no no no no. He couldn’t lose his last connection to Sami.
Erika pressed the button on her intercom, connecting to her secretary. “Find Collin Jenkins and have the Captain Green files transferred to him.”
“You’re replacing me with Collin?”
That was a spit in the face.
“Go home, Sebastian. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the week while I fix the damage you’ve caused.”
He didn’t even get the chance to redeem himself? What the hell would keep him from losing his mind this week?
“Erika, please, I beg you—”
Her outstretched finger silenced him. “Be glad if you still have a job next week.”
A bitter laugh escaped him. Great. Fucking wonderful! Why should he have it all if he could just as well have nothing instead? Why hadn’t he thought of that?! Whatever god was out there had a fucking sense of humor after all.
He got as far as the staircase until he choked on his laugh. He clung to the metal handrail. Tears burned in his eyes.
He focused on his breathing, somehow found the way to his office on muscle memory alone. There, he hunched over his desk.
Suspended. A failure. A selfish prick who hurt people.
Sami’s voice rang in his ear: Can’t you see you’re making it worse?!
Fuck. Baz dropped his head into his neck to blink the tears away. He needed to pour a gallon of bleach over his brain so he would never have a thought again in his life.
The messenger bag was heavy on his shoulder.
He regarded the photo of Joel, Eevee, and him, an artifact of a happier time when Baz had just gotten into law school and thought the world was his to take.
He stored it in his bag, right next to the box with his rotting hopes and dreams. This office had always been a pit stop.
If only Baz had remembered up wasn’t the only way to go.
The bangs against the glass wall thundered in his ears.
Collin stood in his door frame, his freakishly long arms extended over his head, palms pressing against the glass above the door.
Any other day Baz would have been mad about the handprints his oily fingers would leave, but that wasn’t his problem anymore.
“I just got the happy news.” Collin grinned. Oh, sure. Let everyone take their shot! Baz must have punching bag written on his fucking forehead.
“Go away.”
Collin’s victorious grin faded to a frown. “Hey, I’m just teasing. You know that. It’s a win-win, isn’t it? You don’t have to deny your secret boyfriend anymore, and I get to work a cool case with Aya.”
A bullet between Baz’s eyes would have been kinder.
Sami had been right, one misstep would cost Baz everything. His job, the man he had fallen in love with against all reason. If only he hadn’t been so arrogant to think he was above mistakes, he might have been better prepared for the vultures sweeping in and tearing apart what was left of him.
Baz strained a cold smile. “I miss not knowing you.”
With that, he walked away.