Erin
This room is too stuffy.
Brown and dark, wood and leather, shelves of boring books and even more boring documents proving their worth hanging on every wall.
The windows are too small, not allowing enough light through for my tastes.
This has been my most dreaded thought when it comes to the career I chose — finding a firm that doesn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin with its architectural and interior design.
I blink, tearing my blank stare from the law books on her shelf and meeting her eyes, instead.
Candice is striking — tall and curvy, dark skin and even darker hair, long and filled with small braids that grow red in tint toward the ends.
Her makeup is always flawless, red lips powerful, and every suit she has — pants or skirt — is tailored to fit her perfectly.
Sometimes she’s in kitten heels, sometimes flats, but no matter what’s on her feet, her energy is tall and loud enough that she commands attention from everyone the second she enters the room.
Everyone but me, it seems, because I can’t help but zone out during this meeting — mostly because I don’t want to hear what she’s telling me.
“And I also know hearing me say that doesn’t make it any better,” she adds, her brows bending together.
“But look, this will all be worth it. Justice waits for these boys, and we might have to crawl through some muck to get it, but get it we will.” She leans over the glossy mahogany table and folds her hand over mine. “I promise.”
I swallow, nodding, which gives her permission to continue talking about the next steps.
Candice and I first met back in May, as soon as I told the girls what happened to me and decided I was ready to finally report the incident.
Going to the police was the hardest part — detectives and bright rooms with questions being fired at me.
I knew quickly that I needed a lawyer, and Candice stepped in ready for battle.
She showed me a long list of cases she’d fought — most of which she’d won — and promised me she would give me her all.
Of course, that was just the beginning of a hellish summer, and now, hearing what we have to do next, I realize the worst is yet to come.
“The detective they’ve assigned to your case is a hard ass,” Candice says, filing through some paperwork before handing me a small profile on Gene Riley.
His headshot smiles back at me as I fight down the bile rising in my throat.
“But he’s fair. I’ve seen him make the right call countless times.
He’s got a strong moral compass, which means if the evidence is there?
He’s got no problem pushing the case forward to court.
” She pauses. “But… it also means that if the evidence isn’t there, he’s not willing to send what could be an innocent man — or in this case, multiple innocent men — through the system. ”
“They’re not innocent,” I say, almost growl, my eyes hardening as I meet her gaze.
“I know,” Candice insists. “And that’s why we’re going to cooperate with Mr. Riley on whatever he wants, so we can make sure he sees that, too.”
I sigh, looking at the bio again, at the file of paperwork in front of me that I refuse to open because I know there are four other faces in there that I would like to never see again in my life.
“This step is crucial, Erin, and I need you to understand that before we move forward. He’s going to question you, Clinton, your family, your friends — they need to know this is coming.” She pauses. “He’s also going to be questioning the defendants, and their family and friends.”
“Who will lie,” I say without hesitation. “They’re never going to admit to it.”
“Of course not, who would?”
I grit my teeth, biting down my urge to scream.
“That’s why it’s important that we tell Mr. Riley everything. Be as detailed as possible. We need to give any and every possible shred of evidence we have.”
I close my eyes. Just thinking of reliving that nightmarish night makes me want to jump out of the window of this thirty-seven-story building.
“You can do this,” Candice says earnestly, knocking her knuckles on the wood. “We will make those boys pay for what they did to you.”
My next swallow is thick, tongue like sandpaper in my mouth, but I nod, trying my best to actually believe her and not just fake like I do.
A cheerful little melody from my phone breaks the tension, and I frown when I see Ashlei’s name on the screen. She should be at work right now, and we almost never call each other — it’s either text or in person.
“Mind if I take this?” I ask Candice.
She waves me on, picking up her own phone and tapping away on the screen as I slide a thumb across mine and answer the call.
“Hey, babe. Everything okay?”
There’s a long pause of silence before she sniffs. And then, a whispered, “No.”
My heart stops in my chest before kicking back to life, and I swivel in my leather seat, turning away from Candice altogether. “What’s going on? Where are you? Are you hurt?”
That breaks Ashlei into full-on sobs, and I curse, grabbing my things off the table.
I cover the phone with my hand to mute it. “I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll call you,” I tell Candice.
She nods, questions and concern in her eyes, but I don’t have time to assure her things are fine — mostly because I don’t know that they are.
“Where are you?” I repeat when I’m out of the room and dashing through the firm for the elevator.
“Palm Medical.”
I stop short. “The hospital?”
“I was at the pole studio yesterday and…” She sniffs, another long pause breaking between us. “There was an accident.”
I close my eyes, saying a silent prayer before I punch the down button to signal the elevator. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Alright? You hear me? I’m going to pick up the girls and we’ll be right there.”
“Hurry,” is all Ashlei says, and then the line goes dead.
***
The girls are still in a tizzy when we blow through the doors of Palm Medical.
It doesn’t matter that I spent the entire drive here reminding them that we needed to be calm for Ashlei, that we don’t even know what’s happened yet.
There is no calm when it comes to one of us being in trouble or hurt, hence the literal tornado of us entering the hospital, papers flying in our wake.
The poor nurse at the front desk doesn’t know who to listen to as Cassie, Skyler, and mostly Jess talk over each other to try to get information. Finally, I hold up a hand to stop them all mid-sentence, and calmly explain to the woman who we’re looking for.
As soon as we get the floor and room number, along with the clearance for visitation rights — which wasn’t easy, considering there are four of us and our lame attempt at convincing her we were Ashlei’s real sisters went over about as well as a lead balloon — we were in the elevator and on our way to the surgery wing.
“I’m going to remind you all one more time — calm,” I say on our ride up, and though I know it’s hard, the girls all nod in agreement. And true to their word, we stroll at a softer pace in the surgery wing, speaking to the nurse at the desk there before being led back to Ashlei’s room.
When we see her, we all stop dead.
She’s laid up in the hospital bed in a gown that she somehow still makes look pretty, her hair greasy and piled on top of her head, dark circles under her eyes, and her arm in a massive sling that covers her entire shoulder and most of her chest. Brandon is in a chair beside her bed, his eyes glazed as he pretends to watch the TV.
“Well,” Ashlei says when she sees us, attempting a smile. “Am I a beauty queen, or what?”
Cassie covers her mouth at the same time Jess curses, and Skyler and I just deflate, shoulders slumping.
“Oh, Lei,” I say softly, and then wish I hadn’t, because those words immediately bring tears to her eyes, her bottom lip quivering like a child.
We rush her in an instant, enveloping her in a group hug and holding on for dear life as she sobs. Cassie cries softly, too, but Sky, Jess, and I exchange understanding looks that say we need to hold our shit together.
“I’m going to get some coffee,” Brandon says when we pull back, and he leans down to kiss Ashlei’s forehead before leaving us alone.
“What happened?” Jess asks as soon as he’s gone, taking his seat and pulling it close to the bed.
Ashlei wipes her nose on the back of her wrist. “I was doing a complicated leg hang move, and I just… I lost grip. I fell, landed awkwardly on my arm, banged my head pretty hard.” She pauses, rolling her lips together. “Shredded my rotator cuff, broke my collarbone, gave myself a nasty concussion.”
“Fuck,” Jess says, shaking her head and instantly reaching for Ashlei’s hand.
“When did this happen?” Skyler asks next.
“Day before yesterday.”
“And you’re just now telling us?” Cassie squeaks. It earns her a glare from me and Jess alike, but she just shrugs like what, she should have told us sooner!
“I was in and out of consciousness for a while,” Ashlei admits. “And then after some X-rays and tests, monitoring me overnight, and measuring my pain… they decided I needed surgery. So I couldn’t really call yesterday, either.”
“How do you feel now?” I ask.
“Terrible,” she admits, her eyes glossing again. “Everything hurts, and I’m stiff as hell. I keep getting dizzy, and I feel super nauseous. The best time is when I’m sleeping.” She blinks. “Except for the nightmares.”
A long pause falls over us, and Skyler sits on the edge of the bed, wrapping her hand around Ashlei’s ankle. “So, talk to us. What does this mean?”
Ashlei sighs. “Well, short term, it means I miss some work and get to wear this lovely accessory for at least a couple months,” she says, gesturing to the monstrosity of a sling fixed to her shoulder and holding her arm. “Long term?” She shrugs. “Physical therapy, I guess.”
There’s a relieved sigh from all of us, and Cassie leans against the bars of the bed, brushing Ashlei’s hair from her face. “Well, that’s all good. I’m so happy it’s not worse.”
Ashlei nods and tries to smile, but her lips quiver again, and then tears slip free and slide down her cheeks even though she hastily wipes them away.
“Lei?” I ask, frowning as I sit on the other edge of the bed opposite Skyler.
She shakes her head, more tears falling as she furiously wipes them away. “No, you’re right. I’m lucky I’m alive. I’m lucky it wasn’t worse. It’s just…” Her face warps, and she looks at her lap instead of at any of us when she says, “I might not ever pole again.”
A violent silence suffocates us all, and our eyes jump around the room, because we know there’s nothing we could ever do or say to comfort her when that’s a real possibility.
Finally, I lean forward and fold my hand over hers, waiting until her eyes meet mine. “We’re here,” I say.
Because if nothing else, I know that one thing for sure.