Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
I take my time in the bathroom, in no rush to get back and face the confusion of what I left behind. Luckily, by the time I return, Jay’s been informed that Pika Kalili—Kimo’s deceased sister’s ex-boyfriend who’s suing him for custody—is in the building and on his way up, and everyone is all business now, including Kimo and Jay.
“Do you need me to take notes on this?” I ask Jay. I know I just got put back on the team, but I’m eager to jump back into work—and I’m also curious to see who we’re up against.
Jay considers me a moment. “I have Barry prepped to take notes, but if you would start putting together the pre-trial memorandum, we can coordinate after the meeting’s over.”
He touches my shoulder, then slides his hand down my arm, lingering at my elbow for a moment before releasing me. It’s the briefest of interactions, but it’s definitely far beyond the kind of touching I’d expect from my boss at work. I can’t help but glance over at Kimo to see if he noticed.
He did. He blinks at me, then shakes his head a little as the elevator door dings open, and Pika and his team enter the office.
Pika is a Polynesian man close in age to Kimo, somewhere in his late thirties or early forties, but at least half a foot shorter, with a frame that’s hard to decipher under his oversized button-up shirt and baggy trousers. He’s wearing colorful, expensive-looking sneakers and sunglasses—even inside the building.
I decide to wait to sneak off to my desk, so as not to draw attention to myself as introductions are made. When clients are here, I’m meant to be just a fly on the wall—no, even less noticeable than that. A thumbtack on the wall. Observing, but not observed.
So I quietly observe a lot of things. I observe that Jay is polite and deferential to the opposing attorney. They seem to be familiar with each other, but more than that, I know it’s one of Jay’s strategies—to be Mr. Nice Guy until suddenly, he isn’t. I see that Kimo has actually dressed up for today’s meeting, and that he looks uncomfortable and nervous in his dress slacks and button-up shirt that’s just a bit too snug around his barrel chest.
And I notice, now that he’s pushed his sunglasses up, that Pika keeps looking over at me.
This is not a come hither kind of look. I mean, I’ve been doing my squats, but even I know I’m not so hot that all the eligible men in the room (and Barry) can’t resist me. No, Pika’s eyes keep darting over to me, almost like he can’t stop himself from looking. And I notice that whenever our eyes do meet, his narrow a bit, as if we’re mortal enemies, though I’m positive I’ve never met this man before in my life. And honestly, there’s no reason to single out a paralegal for vitriol like this. I like my job and I’m good at it, but we’re glorified document formatters. If the case goes wrong for Pika, it will be because of Jay, not because of me.
As the clients and lawyers move toward the conference room, I hang back to let them go by; Pika briefly makes eye contact with me, sneering—yes, sneering —as he passes. “Hey, it’s Hilary Swank.”
Hilary Swank? I frown at him, perplexed. I’ve been compared to celebrities here and there, but never Hilary Swank. I’m blonde with dark blue eyes, for starters, not brunette with brown eyes. I guess we’re both slender with athletic builds, but other than that, I don’t see a resemblance at all.
He’s probably just trying to throw me off my game, for reasons only known to him. Kimo did suggest he’s kind of an asshole. Shrugging it off, I watch the group through the conference room window as they all take their seats. I don’t want to linger too long, but I can’t help but seek out Kimo. He meets my gaze briefly through the window, and I give him a quick nod to let him know not to be nervous. He’s in good hands with Jay. Everything is going to be fine.
* * *
After my forced time off work, I’m eager to throw myself back into things, and I start drafting the pre-trial memorandum with all the notes we have so far. I’m tucked back in my cubicle, so I miss when the meeting adjourns and everyone leaves. On the one hand, that’s good since I won’t have to run into weird Pika again, but on the other hand, I don’t get a chance to say anything to Kimo, and he doesn’t make a point to come over and talk to me.
Whatever. It’s fine. I’m sure he has a lot on his plate right now with the custody case and all. And the only reason I feel even a tiny bit disappointed, I reason with myself, is because I thought that maybe we’d finally have sex tonight. I have that huge box of condoms next to my bed, just ready and waiting. But it’s probably not a good idea, anyway, to sleep with the client. Then again, I’m not his lawyer, so who cares...?
Aggravated at myself for getting so distracted by the whole Kimo thing, I put in my earbuds, turn on some angry techno music, and throw myself back into work.
By the time I surface again, it’s nighttime. Jay was meant to meet with me about the memorandum, but he ended up getting called out of the office, so nothing’s resolved there, either. Great. Just great.
I don’t check my phone until I’m out of the building. When I do, I’m pleasantly surprised to see I have a missed call and a voicemail from Kimo. He’s probably just calling to tell me he can’t afford any distractions during the case , I reason, bracing myself as I click on the message.
“ Hey, Mattie. It’s me. Uh, Kimo. I guess you probably have my number saved by now. Or, uh, I hope you do. Anyway, I know things are busy right now for you, being back at work, but I was wondering how you feel about pancakes. Specifically, pancakes for dinner? I know the best pancake place in town. Tomorrow night?”
I’m fighting a smile, but it breaks free anyway. Pancakes, for dinner? It’s just so...Kimo. Is this a date? That thought gives me some pause. Do I want it to be a date? If I’m being honest with myself, I’m happy about the thought of spending more time with Kimo, but I don’t want to put too much pressure on things. Maybe it’s a sort of pancakes-and-chill situation? Is that a new Gen-Z thing?
I text my only Gen-Z friend, Nina. Is pancakes code for something sexual? Or is it a thing now to have pancakes before sex?
If not, it should be. Pancakes before sex sounds awesome.
I guess I don’t fully consider who I’m texting, though, because Nina sends back a gif of someone awkwardly shrugging. Right. She’s not exactly tapped into the Gen-Z sex scene. Or any generation’s sex scene, from what I can tell. Though come to think of it, Nina doesn’t really divulge a whole lot about herself. For all I know, she’s hosting weekly sex parties and just never talks about it.
Why do you want to know about pancakes? Helen asks. Oh, right. I must have accidentally pulled up the group chat instead of messaging Nina directly.
I hesitate, not wanting them to make a big thing about it, but simultaneously really wanting them to make a big thing about it, somehow? This is all so confusing. And dammit, I’m smiling again! Kimo invited me to get pancakes tomorrow night .
Nina sends a gif of a pinata exploding into confetti.
It’s not a big deal, I send, as I receive a text from Helen: I don’t think pancakes are a sex thing...I think they’re a LOOOOOVE thing!!!
Shut up , I type back, then temporarily mute the thread so I don’t get any more notifications tonight.
Helen is getting carried away. I know this isn’t love. I like Kimo, sure. I think he likes me. I’m looking forward to having sex with him, but I don’t expect it to turn into anything more. We’re too different. When we inevitably part ways, I won’t have any hard feelings. I’ll probably be relieved.
But it already feels like a lie I’m telling myself. It already feels strange, after less than a week of knowing someone, not to be near him anymore, not to see his grin or hear his laugh. I already worry I’ll be devastated when he’s ready to move on.