CHAPTER TWO
MANON
The dark and earthy smell of freshly brewed black coffee made the hairs at the nape of my neck stand straight up. It was moments like these that I thought, how could anyone desire drugs when Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee existed?
I closed my eyes, letting the steam envelop my senses as I rested my hands on my hips. I had exactly fifteen more seconds before my cup would finish brewing and I wanted to relish every second of its peace.
Away from the stacks of papers, and continuous sounds of keyboards clicking, this was the only quiet room. At this time of day, the office was empty, and I liked to get in early on Mondays to get a head start on the paperwork that I missed over the weekend. It was a mind game I liked to play—I tried to get as much of the tedious work out of the way before anyone else got in so that I could trick myself into thinking I had less work for the rest of the day.
It’s ridiculous. But it's also the only way I can avoid having a mental breakdown. The probability of me walking into my office to see another stack of Manila folders added to my already overflowing desk was at an increasingly high rate. Usually, I’d stand there for a few seconds just bracing myself up against the door frame to make sure I won’t faint.
It was a routine at this point. After I would finish my ’pre-work’, I’d shut off my laptop, turn off the lights, and walk out of my office as if I’d never been there before. My “World's Best Lawyer” mug would be in my right hand, while my paperback crossword puzzle book sat on my left. Then I’d head straight for the break room.
“Boring, dull, lifeless” …I could hear it now. All my friends that were in the same age group as me, either still worked at their high school job or were a part of the stack of papers on my desk. I guess being the know-it-all kid worked out.
I didn't peek early and now I was one of the youngest Lawyers in Chicago. I would say I was lucky but no, this wasn't luck, this was pure blood sweat, and tears. I’d been working for my spot in this firm since I was eighteen years old. Maybe even younger if you want to count the years, I wrote letters to them as a kid just dreaming of becoming a lawyer. But I worked harder than anyone at any stage of my life. I’ve never cared about trends, social media, etc. It all seemed pointless when it came to my desires. I wanted something bigger than just followers, views, or likes, and quickly that separated me from most.
There was a bold division between me and my classmates growing up, some called me the ‘teacher’s pet’ while others just straight up called me a ‘kiss-ass.’
There was no point in denying our differences, so I locked in. At just 22 years old, I became one of the youngest students accepted into Northwestern Pritzker School of Law. Now at 28, I’m pouring oat milk creamer into a mug that I won in a game of white elephant, at the law firm that I’ve been working at for 3 years now.
It’s crazy how fast time could change your entire existence. At one point I was probably the most hated and now those same people had me saved in their phone for an emergency.
I was now most people's last resort when they ended up in an escalated situation. When we all became adults, everyone learned quickly that the friends they had back in school were just as helpless and clueless as they were. It was finally time for the real world, and I was the only one prepared for it.
Although after all that time, my confidence and self-love might’ve grown—my pettiness never changed.
I have a list of blacklisted people who I refused to represent in any way, shape, or form. I gave it to my assistant and in any new case that came in under that list she places it in a bright red folder so I can handle it how I see fit.
You’d be surprised at how many sprinkles of red floated throughout the sea of cream papers that filled my office. The guts that these people had, but again I was their last resort, so I’d humor the case. If it seemed like something they could lose sleep over, then I’d pass it off to another lawyer in the firm. No matter how I felt I wasn't evil, at least not like them.
I knew how low of a position someone had to be in to reach out for help, that’s why I originally wanted to become a lawyer. Not because of the amount of Law and Order I had binged growing up, but because I wanted to be the backbone that some people needed. I always wanted to see the spark that lit up in their eyes when they realized they won.
Watching the spirits that had been tormenting with their minds float away at just the sound of two words.
“Not Liable.”
Those words made my heart sing like doves on a summer day. It was the moment that made all the sleepless nights worth it. All I could imagine when I pulled an all-nighter was that I’d hoped someone would do the same for me if I were in their position. Besides a few of my colleagues, I couldn't name many people who went the extra mile out of the kindness of their hearts.
In today's day in age, it was weird to give more than what you would receive. Sometimes I understood that logic, but if you were in a rough patch, you would hope at least one person gave you grace and looked past your faults. To most, that idea didn't make sense, and I understood that it most likely never would. Because I was the one who carried that responsibility, not them. I understood on a completely different level. It was the kind of situation that you judged until it happened to you.
Most, if not all, would judge me for cases I’ve taken on and who I chose to defend, but to me, it wasn’t about the money. It was about morality, did the crime they committed speak for their character as a person?
For the cases I worked with, 70% to 80% of the time, no.
I dealt with civil law, not criminal. No matter how strong I was, I knew I wasn't built to be that kind of defense attorney.
Again, it all came back to morality.
As I began to stir my coffee, watching the sugar cubes dissolve one by one, I let my brain rest. This was the time I went on autopilot. I wasn't working, I refused to, and my notifications were silenced so even if an email came through, I wouldn’t have a clue.
I loved everyone at this firm, and I wouldn’t change a thing about it, but I also loved my very expensive imported coffee. I knew if someone was nearby to smell it, it would be the first day I said “no.” Because there was no way I was sharing my pods when I was already running low on them.
Quickly, before I forgot, I held down the button on the side of my phone before raising it until my lips grazed the speaker.
“Siri, remind me to order some more coffee when I get home.”
The small blue ring faded in and out on the bottom right of my screen before the words, “Can you repeat that?” appeared.
I let out a sheepish sigh, “I hate this crap.” I muttered out with a low growl of frustration.
The sound of feet shuffling across the marble floors makes me jump so high that I send the piping hot cup of coffee flying in the air. It was almost comical, if it had happened to anyone else, I’d probably never stop laughing.
“Oh, crap! Did I scare you?” My head whipped around to find Neil staring back at me with the palms of his hands raised. His eyes followed the trail of dark coffee trickling its way down my white satin button-down.
“Oh my god…” his voice trailed off, dragging on until faded into silence.
I stood there, not a peep slipping from my lips, only merely watching, as the white fabric took the stain and wore it like a badge. My once peaceful moment had turned into a corporate nightmare.
I wasn’t even pissed about the clothes; I had twenty more of these tops back home hanging in my closet. I only cared about the fact that I knew I had only three pods of coffee left and now I had one of the cups starting to pool at the bottom of my bra.
“Neeeil!” I finally screeched, only causing him to break out into laughter. His lips flew apart as his cheeks blew up like a balloon, swiftly his hand covered his mouth before spit could fly onto my face.
“This is not funny! You do realize I’m now down a coffee pod?”
My eyes squinted as I burned holes into his skull, he was hunched over trying to get himself together while I turned to set the pretty much empty mug back down on the counter.
“What the hell are you even doing here this early?” I questioned.
My heels spun as I began walking back down the hallway that I had just come from, only hearing quick steps following from behind. I already did not like the direction the day was heading.
For the past 2 months, I’ve had the same routine always going off without a hitch. I thought I had reached the stage of life where you just coast and get lost in your work. I guess I got excited too early because as I opened the door to my office and turned on the light, I didn't get the same satisfied feeling that I usually get after my mini break. This time the bright warm light fixture that hung above my desk felt like some type of spotlight on the piles of unfinished work.
I didn't feel like I had an easier day ahead of me. Instead, I felt the intense sensation of being overwhelmed.
“I need to go over a few things with Ryan before we go to court today, he thinks that just because his parents have a shit ton of money he shouldn’t have to act right.”
Neil walked right past me to sit on the only other empty chair beside mine. He didn't even acknowledge the stacks of paper that surrounded him, he sat down without a care in the world. Maybe we were blind to our messes, but all my colleagues were the same way.
My eyes rolled. I hated having to deal with nepo-baby clients who acted like teenage brats just because their parents didn't care to give them enough attention. Most of them acted out in a sense of retaliation for being left alone for most of their childhood. They thought playing with the law was the best way to seek revenge against their parents, especially if they knew they could afford it.
To them, this was just like any other Monday morning, their parents bailing them out of jail or paying for a lawyer was like going grocery shopping, and they didn't care.
They were annoying because it was like talking to a brick wall, they never learned. They thought it gave them street cred, or something else to make themselves a victim of. But in reality, they committed stupid crimes like these because they were too scared to go for the big guns.
Even they had their limits or boundaries. Battery or assault was too much of a risk of losing their precious lives. Their spending habits and reckless drinking problems couldn't be kept up if they were locked behind bars for good. Speeding and crashing million-dollar cars was the perfect amount of rebelling without taking it too far out of their tax bracket.
Because one thing their parents couldn't afford was justice.
The door shut behind us with a soft click. Immediately, I started unbuttoning my blouse until I got the second button and forgot he was still there.
“Cover your eyes!” I blurted to Neil, his head raised as his face dropped downward into a frown. He looked confused until he saw my fingers gripping the collar of my shirt.
A soft chuckle fell from his lips before he waved me off, “Manon, the last thing I want to see on a Monday morning is your bare chest.”
This time I was the one who broke out into a fit of laughter. Neil was all I needed for days like these, granted, he was the one who caused the riff in my morning, but he was also the one who saved me from drowning away in my pit of despair.
He was a light in such a dark and heavy industry as ours, we needed lawyers like him to make things light-hearted or we’d all probably quit before 40.
While I was still chuckling away, he was sinking into the feeling of anguish as his mind started to go over his case. Ryan— the 21-year-old reckless nepo-baby, had been dragging on his case for months now. His disrespectful demeanor and lack of empathy made it so much harder to reason with and you could see it slowly starting to wear on Neil.
He was over having to suck it up and practically kiss the ass of a multimillionaire’s son. Sadly though, Ryan wasn't Neil’s first, nor would it be his last of that kind of client. The young ones loved him, they hated working with people like me because I was too serious. Neil was the comforting; relatable lawyer that made them feel respected. He was serious enough to get the job done but not too serious to the point where you felt overwhelmed with information.
His patience was an inspiration to us all and if it wasn't for him, I probably would’ve lost my mind years ago. We were nowhere near the same age, with him just entering his forties and me about to turn 29. We couldn't have anything less in common, yet we clung to each other as our lives depended on it, or at least our sanity did.
“I don't care—” I said through soft chuckles.
“—Turn around, I don't need you judging me on how plain my bra is.”
He huffed out a breath before turning until his back was towards me. Neil couldn't argue because he knew what I was saying was true. He was a single gay man in Chicago. If I gave him the opportunity, he’d tear me to shreds over my beige tee shirt-style bra. There were no defined cups or heavy wiring, it was meant for comfort, not beauty. I couldn't even remember the last time I bought or wore any kind of real lingerie .
But I didn't have the energy to break down and explain to him why all my undergarments looked like they were meant for breastfeeding. I just needed to get out of the sticky fabric quickly before my skin was stained with the scent of Jamaican coffee beans. I loved the smell of it— but not as a perfume, if I didn't act fast the intense scent would probably last the whole day.
Within seconds I slipped out of my bra and blouse in one motion before throwing on one of my skintight black tees. I never carried extra bras in the office but luckily, I didn't have much to work with in that department, so I let gravity do its thing. Just for extra precautions I slipped on the black blazer that I always kept hanging on the back of my door.
“Okay, you're good!” I spun around to see him doing the same. I paused for a moment, letting him scan me over with his eyes. Even though I hated it, I still loved to get his approval.
An audible gasp could be heard as his hand flew to his chest to clutch his invisible pearls, “Oh my god, I did you a favor.”
I huffed out a small breath of air, “Why the hell didn't you have this on in the first place?”
My eyes rolled back, I was wearing slim-fit black slacks and a pair of black kitten heels. The outfit couldn't have looked any more basic. But of course, he thought this looked better than my original custom-fitted blouse. He always joked that I dressed twice my age and that I needed to “live” a little. I was only going to be this age once and I had ‘already made it’ so I needed to relax and let go.
He’d been screaming that at me for the past three years, and lately, I’ve been starting to understand the meaning behind it. At first, it was hurtful to hear, after working so hard most of my childhood to get to where I am today, just for my coworker to say I needed to relax .
It felt like a slap in the face, now, of course, I understood he just wanted me to enjoy my youth and meant absolutely no harm. But it never failed to make me stop, reflect on life, and question some of the choices I’d made along the way.
Did it ever push me to change?
No, and that's probably why I’m still fighting his critiques to this day.
“I’m over you.” I joke, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
His body sprung forward until his elbows rested on his knees, “Nooo! I need your help; I can’t do this alone.”
God, he was so dramatic, his hands ran through his perfectly styled blonde hair, pulling at the ends and twisting it like he was going to rip it out. This was his usual reaction to days like this, his worst is when his knees are pinned to his chest as he rocks back and forth in the corner of his office. That’s when I knew he needed a vacation.
“Uh no, I have to go downstairs and buy myself a cup of coffee, remember?”
Instinctively, my nose scrunched up at the thought of having to drink one of those glorified cups of sweetened milk that everyone was so addicted to. Half of my office ran off them like they had real shots of caffeine in them, but I’m pretty sure they're all just on sugar highs. But I only had two pods left and I needed to save those for emergencies until I could get another order in.
“Oh, can you grab me a macchiato please?” His brows shot up, a hopeful smile spreading across his face.
My annoyance was visible, but he was lucky we were both having a rough morning because without another word I ran around my desk to grab my wallet from my purse before walking out the door.
***
By the time I got our coffees, they were ice cold.
My face mirrored the color of crimson red as I stood in an insanely packed social media hotspot. My skin crawled with irritation as I watched baristas walk around with phones mounted and strapped to their chests.
They were filming as they worked, I don't even know the legalities behind it all but I stood dumbstruck as I was forced to place my order with a phone shoved in my face. The worst part was how they acted as if nothing was wrong with it.
Everyone dressed in what looked like the same style just in different fonts, in some way it felt like I’d entered an alternate reality. I was pressed against the fogged-up glass, just watching as each customer walked up with their phone in hand ready to record their drinks.
Sometimes I forget what generation I’m from.
Moments like these reminded me of why I liked to stay in my own world because the real one was becoming too fake to even exist in. Or maybe it was that I had isolated myself from the real world so much that I had never been to places like this before. It was almost like these types of shops, restaurants, or whatever else never even existed in my world.
Whatever it was, I didn't like it, I didn't like watching people play with the food that I had ordered and paid for with my hard-earned money.
Geez, I was starting to sound like a “Karen.”
But my final straw was when I walked up to the counter to swoop up two recyclable paper cups and felt not even an ounce of warmth coming from them.
My head tilted with irritation, but quickly I fixed my face and forced myself to walk out. No matter what, I wasn't willing to have a breakdown in front of a whole crowd of people who were already recording. I wasn't dumb, I may not be up to date on everything, but I was well aware of the power that the internet held.
I just needed to remove myself from the situation.
My irritation was reaching a new height, and I was becoming overstimulated at a rapidly increasing rate. I was irked with frustration, but if I could just get back to my office without anything else going wrong—
This was it.
This was the moment I lost it all. As my head stayed down, fighting against the pressure of the early morning breeze, in a matter of seconds, everything came crashing down.
Deja vu hit me like a ton of bricks as I watched not one, but two cups of what could've been iced coffee at this point, pour down my entire chest.
This time though, I didn't stand there silently. My head shot up and with the way I felt there could have been smoke coming from my ears, I was fuming.
My voice cracked like a whip in the wind. “What the fu–”
“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! I swear I didn't see you; I was looking down reading the directions and m—”
She was rambling. The haphazard, gaudy-looking woman standing in front of me, was rambling. Her hands flung every which way, and her mouth wouldn’t stop moving. Yet not a single word registered, instead my eyes scanned over her as Neil did to me. I had never done it myself, but this time was warranted. She looked like something you’d see once in your lifetime; I had to take it all in.
The cheetah print coat that draped over her shoulders gave the Mob Wives a run for their money, and I never thought I’d see the day when hot pink slacks and blue cowboy boots existed. But apparently, they did, and they were both owned by the same person.
All I could do was blink, my eyes couldn’t focus on anything specific, so they just roamed. I’d never met someone who spoke with their entire body, not just her hands. But her entire body swung around with every word that slipped through her lips.
My head whipped around to see if anyone else was watching in disbelief like I was, but everyone was too busy minding their own business to care about mine.
I couldn't take it anymore. It sounded like she was nowhere near the end of her story, and at that point, it felt like the wind had already begun drying the coffee that dripped down my shirt.
“I-it’s fine. I really need to get going.” I muttered hastily as the obviously fake blonde woman went silent.
For a moment, I watched the defeat grow in her eyes and I could've sworn I felt a twinge of guilt twist in the pit of my stomach. But I wasted no time thinking about it. I walked away abruptly, leaving her standing there speechless.
All I could hear was the sound of her voice echoing through the clouds.
“I’M SO SORRY!”
My eyes rolled as I began to pick up my pace from a stroll to a slight jog. I wasn't late, but after all this wasted time, I soon would be.
***
When I made it back to the firm, I booked it for my office. Luckily, it was empty, and I had already run past Neil talking on the phone, so I didn't need to take the time to explain why I came back empty-handed.
I changed into my last spare black tee after giving myself a mini wipe-down with the baby wipes I carried. I didn’t know what was happening with today, but still, I refused to smell like coffee all day long.
After a few moments of contemplating my life, I zoned in.
I drowned myself with my piles of work to try and distract myself from overthinking the morning. I hadn't had a day like this in months, maybe even a few years. I planned everything out exactly down to what highlighters I used for each day of the week. I guess you could call me picky or strict, but it just was how I worked. The thought of it somehow not working was chipping away at my consciousness.
I couldn't just let it go or move on, the energy had to drag on, and as the minutes went by—so did my will to keep pushing.
My face was practically glued to my desk when my assistant walked in. I didn't even turn to move when I heard her flats slide across my floor before stopping abruptly.
“Uh, Manon?” Grace’s soft and apprehensive tone was calming.
I moved in a slow sloth-like style that only added to my distressed attitude. When my gaze raised to meet her wide eyes all I could do was stare blankly.
“Is everything okay?”
I thought about her question long and hard before answering. Was I okay? I don't know why the morning not going as planned, had thrown me for such a loop. Did change really mess with me that much?
“Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—”
I thought about my choice of words carefully.
“—Exhausted.”
In a matter of seconds, Grace’s face softened, and a small frown grew as she watched me drop my head into my hands.
“Then you are going to hate me for this.”
My brows went tight as I pulled myself together, only to just now notice the stack of manilla folders sitting in her hands.
“Oh my god, just kill me now.” A deep groan fell from my lips as I motioned for her to place them on my desk.
The stack was small and manageable, but it felt endless with how overwhelmed I was becoming.
“I know, I’m sorry. But most of them are just paperwork that needs your signature. Except for the one on top, that case just came in this morning.”
I could feel the air leave my lungs as my shoulders dropped. There was no point in complaining. This is what I signed up for ten years ago, so I needed to get it together and move on.
Within seconds I straightened my spine, automatically shifting my energy from being ready to clock out, to clocking right back in. When the stack landed in the center of my desk, I gave Grace a small smile in return, so she didn't think I was actually going to die.
“Thanks. I’ll get started on it asap.” I replied this time sounding slightly surer of myself, and just that small energy shift restored the light in Grace's eyes as her face brightened with a warm smile.
“Okay, let me know if you need anything!” Her chirpy voice bounced off my beige walls before she turned to leave.
I sucked in a deep breath. God, she would make an amazing lawyer one day. Grace was only a couple of years younger than me but she was in her fifth year of school and she worked as a middleman at the firm.
She did some of the most meticulous “busy” work that a lot of us didn't have time to do anymore. It’s where we all started, and some days I wished I still did it, just to take a break from the responsibilities that I carried.
My gaze roamed my messy small office before landing back on the first manilla-colored folder in the stack of many others.
My eyes grew narrow.
Did she say this one just came in this morning?
Hmm, most of the cases that we worked on during the week, came from a long list that was filed over the weekend. So, getting a new one on a Monday morning was unusual.
Curiosity pushed me over the edge. Within seconds I was flipping through pages of paperwork until I reached the police report. I skimmed through the bull crap and went straight for the bulk of it. My sharp gaze assessed every word, only stopping when I got halfway through it.
“Is this a car accident?” I thought out loud.
My face scrunched up in confusion, I never got car accident cases. We usually saved those for Adam. He was a beast when it came to cases that dealt with defending drivers who were being wrongfully accused of causing an accident. He squashed them with ease. After him, Margo would be next, or even Neil.
Not me. Why would this person go out of their way to work with a lawyer who didn’t even specialize in that field? Truthfully, I didn’t specialize in any field. I was only three years in the game and to others I was still seen as being a “newbie.”
I skimmed until my eyes snagged on something.
“…The front fender and rear bumper were both crushed on impact. Once authorities arrived at the scene, the unconscious driver was removed from the vehicle...”
My eyes lifted from the paper. Damn, this was a rough one. But it didn't make any sense, so I quickly flipped back to the first page.
“Cassandra Deacon,” I mumbled.
Sounds like another reckless driver to me, I could already see Neil rolling his eyes when I tell him about this one.
I continued reading until the words “Blue Wheels” stood out to me.
Instinctively, I leaned forward until I was on the edge of my seat. Blue Wheels was a car rental company, a huge one at that. Most people traveling into the city rented through them, at this point they were a local landmark.
Most people, if not all, either knew of or at least heard the name Blue Wheels at one point or another. They were known for having reasonable prices, especially for long-term rentals. I’d never used them before, but they were the last thing I expected to read in the middle of a case about a reckless driver.
A gasp fell from my lips as they parted in confusion.
Before my thoughts could settle on anything, my fingers flipped back to the police report.
“…The driver rented through Blue Wheels just two months prior to the incident.”
Oh my god.
Whoever Cassandra Deacon was, she was being sued by Blue Wheels.
The palm of my hand clamped over my already parted lips, the shock of my discovery hitting me with full force. I merely stared tongue-tied; how could I have gotten so lucky?
I mean, Cassandra clearly wasn't. But if I won this case, then I would be.
I spent the next ten minutes reviewing every detail until I heard a knock at my door.
“Come in.” I rushed out, not wanting to take my gaze from the stack of papers that my eyes were burning holes through.
Grace’s small frame peeked around my slightly cracked open door, “Hey, so there's actually someone here to meet with you—”
“—What? My schedule says I don't have any meetings today?” My panicked tone makes the words come out rushed.
“Yeah, you don't. I tried to tell her that she needed to make an appointment. But to be honest, she seems kind of desperate. All she said was that it was urgent.”
My brows shot up; my once frantic-looking expression shifted to concern.
“I think she said her name was Cassie De—”
“—Send her in.”