Chapter Five
MICHAEL
It was already the third time that video played on the large screen in the law firm’s conference room.
Usually, my meetings there with Janet — or Ms. Rodriguez, as she was known by people who clearly hadn’t known her since childhood, like I had — were attended by other lawyers. But this time, since it was a Saturday, it was just the two of us.
But I knew her decision not to call anyone wasn't out of respect for her team's day off. It was more about being able to get my attention in a pointed way without anyone around to witness it.
The video, apparently taken by a cell phone camera, showed me, accompanied by the red-haired girl, laughing side by side at the bar. Until I grabbed her hand, and we walked together towards the elevator.
From there, the image cut to another, apparently from the elevator's security camera. When the door closed, the most embarrassing moment came when I turned around and started shaking my ass, while the woman seemed to be singing and also doing a ridiculous drunken dance while patting my ass.
“That will ruin you in any court.” It was also the third time that Janet had repeated that while shaking her head negatively, showing herself overcome by the feeling of second-hand shame.
At this moment, I felt grateful that she had not called any other lawyers to testify to all that humiliation.
Back to the video: when the elevator door opened, the image again cut to another security camera in the hallway. The redhead and I walked to the door of one of the rooms and started kissing.
And grabbing each other. And rubbing each other. And I really had no idea how we hadn't consummated it right there. But I managed to open the door, and we entered the room together.
The image was cut again, giving way to another one taken by the same camera, but this time in the morning of that same day. The red-haired woman opened the door and left the room, with the most lost expression anyone's face could display.
I don't think I had ever seen that reaction in a woman who had gone to bed with me.
Not that, at that point, that was really an important issue. My ego was a little hurt, I admit, but it was the least of it compared to all the problems that night out could cause me.
The video came to an end, and I mentally thanked Janet for not showing it again.
Instead, she told me what I had already expected to hear, “The Harris attorney sent me this video at 7:30 this morning, along with a very clear and direct message: either you drop the lawsuit, or this video will be included in the lawsuit as evidence against you. They are willing to make a deal if you decide to drop the lawsuit.”
“I don't want any deal with them.”
“Either you accept the deal, or you lose the case. And in a very embarrassing way, might I add.”
“I repeat that I will not make any deal with those sons of bitches.” The good part about it being just Janet and me there was that I didn't have to control my language.
The bad part is that she doesn't either.
“Think about it before you do something this big.” She stood up, starting to walk around the huge rectangular mahogany table.
“What did we talk about, Michael? What was our agreement?
You would take over the management of your family's architectural firm, you would show up at the company from Monday to Friday, showing yourself to be an interested and responsible manager, you would stop partying, going out, drinking and, most importantly: stop messing about with women.”
“It was a company party; it was part of my job. And I thought it would be okay if I had a little drink.”
“A little? You were barely standing on your feet when you left the bar and did a ridiculous little dance in the elevator.”
“How was I supposed to know someone was filming me? And about the woman, she wasn't really in my plans. I approached her just to talk, not to end up in bed.”
“If you weren’t planning on ending up in bed, then explain why the hotel room was booked two hours before this footage of you two going upstairs?”
Two hours before?
The video in the hallway showed the time as one thirty-two in the morning.
Two hours earlier, at eleven thirty, I hadn't even been talking to the redhead for an hour.
It was already past ten thirty when I approached her at the bar.
I didn't remember much, but I was sure that in an hour I hadn't been in a state of intoxication that would allow me to lose my mind like that.
I definitely hadn't made a reservation at that point.
Well, the exact time of it really didn't matter. I had fucked up, that was all that mattered.
“And with a company employee!” She got back to a point that was also quite relevant.
“Can you imagine the kind of thing that could be alleged?
I spent my entire legal career defending your father from lawsuits filed by employees 'seduced' by him. This could easily be brought up in the lawsuit and turned against you.”
That, for me, was one of the worst parts.
Because I always swore to myself that I wouldn't be like my father.
Not at that point, at least. As a father, he hadn't been the worst, but the reputation of a married millionaire who was always having affairs with employees of his own company always weighed on my shoulders.
“She seems like a nice girl,” I said, referring to the redhead. “I can talk to her.”
“Maybe that makes your situation a little less terrible, but it still doesn’t help. You’re in deep, Michael. And speaking as your lawyer and a long-term friend of your family, I strongly recommend that you agree to a settlement. It’s that or nothing — because you’re out of options.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. I didn’t want to come to any terms with Margaret and Caleb Harris. I hated the thought of even having to see their faces again—or many more times.
But if I had ruined everything with reckless drinking, I needed to at least try to contain the damage.
I opened my eyelids again and, looking at my lawyer who had stopped on the opposite side of the table to where I was, I asked:
“What kind of deal do they want to make?”
“Biweekly visits, lasting two hours, always in their home and under their supervision.”
I clenched my fist, slamming it hard on the table in front of me.
That wasn't enough. It never would be.
I was Alice's father. She was about to turn one year old, and I had seen her in person exactly five times. It was more than enough for me to understand that I needed her, much more than she needed me.
I was crazy about that little girl. She was my fucking daughter! I didn't care if my affair with her mother had been just a one-night stand, and she was the result of a broken condom. She was my daughter! My blood.
The damned Harris couple even tried, at the time, to convince me that their daughter had lied in the email she had sent me just a few hours before the accident that took her life, and that Alice was not mine.
At the time, I requested a DNA test just to have that documented proof of paternity, but for me that was not even necessary.
Except for her blue eyes identical to those of her deceased mother, Alice looked like a photocopy of me.
When her mother, Leah, sent me a photo of her attached to the email, I spent the first few hours comparing the image with a photograph of myself as a baby, startled by the surreal level of similarities.
But the test had proven it: she was my baby. And all I wanted was the right to be her father.
But her maternal grandparents were not willing to allow that. The decision would be left to a judge.
A case that I’d do anything to win.
I was a father wanting custody of his own daughter after the death of the child's mother.
Well, the odds to win would be in my favor. If I wasn't... me.
A fucking party-loving, womanizing, irresponsible playboy.
“I can't accept this shitty deal, Janet.”
“If these videos are exposed in the trial, you could lose even that, Michael. They will insist that you are a bad influence on the child, and therefore you may not even have the right to see her. You have a lot of money and influence, but so do the Harrises. You are the girl’s father, but they are her maternal grandparents, who have been raising her since she was born.
There is absolutely nothing left in your favor. ”
“But I have the best and most insightful lawyer in the State of California. You will find a solution. Tell me you will, Janet, please.”
“I can't work if I don't have anything in my favor. I know you were completely drunk last night but try to remember something that might help you in some way.”
I rested my forehead on my hands and closed my eyes again. I needed to make an effort, I needed to remember something, anything.
Trying to use the scenes I saw in the video as a parameter, I forced myself to remember those moments.
The stupid dance in the elevator...
Maybe I remembered it a little.
The redhead and I sang the chorus of a pop song I didn't even know I knew together, while she slapped my ass.
And she’d commented something about me being hot...
That didn't help me.
I followed the memories. We got out of the elevator, started making out.
I don't think that was the first time I had kissed her. We had exchanged a few kisses before in the hotel lobby.
I remembered squeezing her ass and making a mental note that it was very firm and delicious, and...
Again, this didn't help.
I strained my mind a little more.
We entered the room, took off our clothes, started kissing again, and...
She stopped.
Not only did she stop kissing me, she practically collapsed into my arms.
I called her. I shook her and everything, but... she was asleep. She was practically out, still standing in my arms.
I remember, at that moment, feeling my head spin and almost collapsing, taking her down with me.That was it — I was tired. Fucking exhausted. A kind of unbearable, bone-deep exhaustion.
Without much strength, I managed to throw the woman on the bed and threw myself next to her, turned to the side, and...
Darkness.
I just blacked out.
“We didn't do anything!” I declared, euphoric, as I got up from the chair.
I don't think I've ever been happier in my life that I didn't have sex with a beautiful woman. Faced with the confused look Janet gave me, I explained:
“Nothing happened between the redhead and I. We went into the room and slept.”
Janet rolled her eyes.
“For God's sake, Michael, what child do you think you're going to fool with that excuse? You two almost copulated in the hallway.”
“But nothing happened in the room. I swear. She practically passed out as soon as we walked in. I put her to bed, lay down next to her, and fell asleep.”
She studied me silently for a few moments, seemingly considering whether or not to believe it. Finally, she sighed.
“Great, you didn't do anything. Even if she agrees to help you and proves it in court, who will believe her? And what difference will it make given your behavior throughout the night?”
Shit, she was absolutely right. That still wasn't enough.
I scratched my head, trying to remember anything else important. That's when that stupid fucking beaded ring got tangled in my hair. I pulled my hand out and ripped the object off my finger.
“Why the hell am I still wearing this crap?” I grumbled, throwing the cheap jewelry on the table.
Janet looked at it curiously and reached out for the ring, picking it up to examine.
“Since when do you wear such... informal things?”
“I bought it yesterday at a hippie stand at the party.” I couldn't help but laugh when I remembered the story.
“The redhead said she couldn't have sex with me because we had just met, and we weren't committed to each other. So we went to that stand, I bought two rings and made a joke about asking her to marry me. Apparently, it worked. Or not so much, because in the end nothing happened between us.”
Janet looked away from the ring and back at me, and I knew that gleam in her eyes, like she was having an idea.
“Do you know what could save you from being considered a degenerate who goes to parties, gets drunk and sleeps with his employees, Michael?”
“What?” I asked, hopefully.
“If by chance she wasn’t only an employee, but also your fiancée.”
She smiled, but I remained serious, still trying to process those words and make some sense of them in my head.