Chapter 21 Lacey
LACEY
I can hear the water tinkling in the concrete fountain, but today, it doesn’t fill me with the same sense of peace. I’m back at the Lantana, standing outside the front door, waiting for my lawyer to show up.
Big dark glasses cover my eyes, and I’m wearing my usual work uniform—a dark pencil skirt, a long-sleeved blouse, and sky-high heels.
Today, I’m dressed in navy and light blue, a soft color that feels professional but not confrontational.
I’m wearing my hair pulled back in a tight bun, and my signature red lipstick makes me feel a little like my old self.
I check my watch for the time and see that it’s still early. I’m early. Old habits die hard, and I thought Fingers might want to brief me or something before we start. But the man I see coming up the walkway toward me isn’t my lawyer. It’s Dylan fucking Acosta.
I yank off my sunglasses so I can see him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Lacey.” The man has the nerve to lean in and try to kiss me, but I’m way too fast for that.
I dodge him and back ten steps away. “Right,” he says, pretending I haven’t just rejected his petty attempt at a greeting.
“Shame how things fall out sometimes.” He pulls a phone from his pocket and starts tapping.
“Shame how things fall out?” I practically squeal it. “I’m here because of you. I lost my job because of you. Nothing fell out. You fucked me over.”
Dylan hasn’t bothered to look up from his phone, but he does turn at the dark shadow that rises up behind him.
“Hey, Lacey. You okay?” A deep, familiar voice fills my ears, and I can’t help but start to breathe again.
Eagle is here. He kept his promise. Not that I doubted he would come, but he’s not only here, he’s being careful.
Nothing he’s said would give away the fact that we’re dating.
And while I don’t care if Dylan knows, the less he knows about me and my life now, the better.
Especially until this damn mediation is over.
Dylan shakes his head at Eagle. “I see you’re not the only one who thought to bring witnesses.” Then Dylan gives me a shit-eating grin and walks into the Lantana, calling behind him, “Good luck today, Lacey. You’ll need it.”
As soon as he’s inside, Eagle steps a little closer. “Where the fuck is Fingers?” he asks. “Did you know that dickhead was going to be here?”
I shake my head. “If Fingers knew, he didn’t say.”
Just then, I see Fingers rushing up the walkway. He’s got an old-school leather briefcase in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I almost ask him to stomp it out, but then I figure, screw it.
“Fingers,” I call out, waving my hand.
He nods at me and extends the hand with the cigarette to Eagle in a weird half-wave kind of movement.
“I’d shake, but I’ve got no free hands,” he explains.
“Sorry I’m late.” He looks me over. “You look good. Good choice. Professional. Sedate. I forgot to tell you what to wear, but I figured you’d handle it. ”
Eagle is looking Fingers over skeptically. “What’s going on, man?” he asks. “Fucking Acosta is here. He was just out here.”
Fingers holds up his cigarette, takes a long final drag on it, then stomps it into the pavement.
Fingers bangs a palm against his briefcase.
“That’s why I’m late. Counsel for the Lantana just disclosed to me this morning that he’d ‘make a witness’ available for questioning in case it helps the conversation. ”
“Is that normal?” I ask. “Shouldn’t they have told us before this morning?”
“Not normal at all,” Fingers says. “And I shot off a letter to document that I did not consent to the appearance of witnesses at a confidential, pretrial mediation.” He sighs and pats his pocket where another box of cigarettes rests.
“It’s a little fuck-you to Lacey. The other side knows there’s no reason to have a witness, and I won’t let the man anywhere near the proceedings.
Anything he says or hears could compromise what happens later if we end up in court.
” Fingers looks right at me. “They’re trying to get to you, Lacey,” he says.
“They want you to feel bad, like you’re in the wrong.
In a meeting like this, I can’t stop them from saying whatever they want, whether it’s true or not, but your job is to stay calm, professional, and stick to the facts.
No matter what the other side says or does. ”
My stomach sinks. Of course, Dylan would be here to shake my confidence. To make me question myself. Who I am and what I am worth.
During our entire relationship, he devalued me. Lied to me about his wife, his whereabouts. I don’t know what else, and I don’t want to know. All I care about is my future.
I want it all, and having it all means I have to start over. That means my time here as an event planner, in the beautiful, luxurious Villa Lantana, is really over. I don’t think it hit me until today that this was inevitable. That there would be no going back.
But I see it clearly now, and I’m ready. Ready to fight for myself, for what’s right, and for a new dream.
“I’ll be out here the whole time,” Eagle says. He moves toward me like he wants to kiss me, but he doesn’t, and I understand why.
It’s better that no one affiliated with the Lantana knows I’m with him.
“Thank you,” I say, and then I turn to Fingers. “You ready?”
“Born ready,” he says and holds the door of the Lantana open.
With my head held high, I set foot on the pink marble. I swallow my nerves and head for the last time ever into the conference room of the Lantana.
At seven o’clock, I text Eagle to please go home and eat. Tomorrow is Saturday, and he took it off as well, assuming we’d either be celebrating or drowning our sorrows. Either way, we planned to do it together.
Eagle: You want me to wait at your mom’s? How much longer?
Me: Mom’s got book club at the house tonight. Unless you wanna talk about romance novels with the girls…
Eagle: I’m staying right here.
I like his text and put my phone back on the conference room table.
The two sides started out together, all of us except for Dylan in one room.
The attorney for the Lantana made a little statement to the mediator.
Nothing that happens today is binding unless we reach an agreement, but the mediator separated us after our opening statements so he could talk through the pros and cons of each side privately.
Just like Fingers said, the mediator trash-talked me a little.
Nothing disrespectful, but he reminded me that a jury isn’t going to look too favorably on a woman who dated a married man willingly, blindly for fourteen months.
He reminded me of all the things I already know.
That no one would believe that I didn’t know he was married.
He also reminded me that when jurors see pictures of Dylan with his gorgeous wife and his daughter on her wedding day, that again, I’m going to look like an untrustworthy homewrecker.
“There’s two sides to this case,” Fingers reminded me when I was at my lowest. Listening to all the arguments, all the ways I could be perceived as a terrible person, did get under my skin a bit.
But then Fingers assured me, “Right now, that guy’s in there telling Sergio he fucked up big-time.
And he’s explaining all the ways a jury isn’t going to like that the Lantana rips off its customers and pressures its employees to sign big deals.
Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not,” he reminds me.
“Juries like stories that make sense. And if you let both sides talk, we’ve both got stories that make sense.
What we don’t have is one right and one wrong.
If we did, we probably would have settled already. ”
Fingers also tells me that dragging this out until we’re hungry and tired is part of the mediator’s strategy. They want to wear us down from our entrenched positions.
Finally, the mediator comes in with a huge smile on his face. “I think we’ve got a deal,” he says. He’s got a folded sheet of paper in his hand. “If I could get Ms. Mercer a job—a good job with comparable pay and benefits—and one month of pay as a bonus, would we have a deal?”
Fingers narrows his brows and looks at me. “You want a job, Lacey?”
I don’t know what he means. “Here?” I ask the mediator. “A job with comparable pay and benefits here?”
He shakes his head. “Sergio has a property on the Gulf Coast. It’s under construction now, but he’s going to need a director of events.
He’s prepared to offer you that position, with no loss of seniority.
Plus, one month of the salary you earned at the Lantana to help while you relocate.
There will be a small budget for moving expenses on top of the already generous offer. ”
Already generous offer.
That’s lawyer-speak for take this. It ain’t gonna get much better.
I shake my head. “I’m not moving to Pensacola,” I tell him. And I won’t. Even if I didn’t have Eagle, I won’t leave my mom.
I ask Fingers if I can speak to him privately to consider the offer.
The mediator leaves us, but he checks his watch.
“I’d love to be able to get something inked before eight,” he says, as if reminding us that we’ve been here since noon and haven’t had anything but Lantana coffee and water despite the property having a full-service kitchen on-site.
Once the mediator leaves us, I point to my notepad. “This,” I tell him. “This is what I want.”
When the day started, I made a list for the mediator of the top ten things I needed to resolve this case today. I didn’t have a top ten. I had five.
I wanted two years’ salary paid to me in monthly payments for twelve months, starting the day we reach a settlement.
That way, I’d technically have a year to find another job.
I’d initially only wanted one year, but Fingers told me to double it because I have to expect to compromise from what I want to something I can live with.