He imagined how she would act in a courtroom, arguing some poor opposing counsel under the table; or in her office, diligently attending to client paperwork and phone calls. She took her career very seriously, and he didn’t blame her. Her passion for the law was evident, and as the old saying went, if you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.
Darius elbowed him in the ribs. “Rashad, I hear there’s drama at county. What do you know about it?”
Darius’s pointed question drew Rashad out of his fantasy, and he groaned. “All I know is that the county budget is being cut, drastically. Right now, we don’t know how it’s going to affect us at the courthouse.”
“Sounds like things are pretty uncertain over there.” Marco ran his hand over his chin as if thinking.
Rashad agreed. “They are. What about you, how are things in the fast-paced financial world?”
“Same old, same old.” Marco shrugged, as if his work as vice president of Royal Community Bank was no big deal.
Rashad knew better. Royal was the largest minority owned private financial institution in the state.
Ken volunteered, “I’m in the running for a pretty big design contract for the city. Hopefully the budget cuts won’t put the kibosh on it.”
Rashad doubted the budget cuts would cause problems for Ken. As a skilled graphic designer, Ken’s services were always in demand. Aside from that, it was almost always more economical to hire a freelancer than to take on the costs of a full-fledged employee.
Darius joked, “No one ever asks me about my work.”
Rashad shook his head, punched his friend in the shoulder. “That’s because we all know you don’t do any. As long as you keep inviting us down to the beach house, we’re willing to overlook it.”
“Don’t be jealous of my awesome retirement.”
Rashad scoffed and punched him again. “Don’t be an ass about it, then.”
The basket of wings in the center of the table was empty now, so Rashad used a couple of Wet-Naps to clean up. Grabbing his wallet from the back pocket of his black slacks, he pulled out a twenty to cover his share of the tab and tip.
“I’m out, guys.” Rashad eased out of the booth, keys in hand.
His friends said their goodbyes as he strolled out of the building.
Inside the cab of his pickup truck, he started the engine and pulled out of the small lot. He thought about Lina as he navigated the streets of downtown Charlotte, taking I-77 out of the city toward his luxury housing complex.
The way she’d walked out on him the previous night, he knew he should probably let her cool off. Since he’d obviously upset her, he was willing to give her some space. Still, he was not willing to walk away from her, and what they could have together.
She was such a cynic, and he understood why. According to Lina, her ex-husband, Warren, had been an asshole of the highest order. He’d cheated on her at every opportunity and then further insulted her by assuming she was too stupid to figure out what he was up to. Any woman would be cautious after what she’d gone through.
What Rashad didn’t understand was why she insisted on making him bear the burden of her mistrust. Sure, he flirted with the women in the front row when the Gents put on their shows, that was part of the act. He was lead singer, and if smiling and winking at a few women kept ticket sales up, what was the harm in that? Somehow, Lina had associated his stage persona with his true self, and assumed that if he winked and charmed from the stage, he must be seeing other women behind her back.
That couldn’t be further from the truth. When they were together he’d been faithful to her. Hell, since he’d broken up with her, he’d been on a self-imposed hiatus from dating and sex. After Lina, no other woman seemed to capture his interest.
By the time he pulled his truck into the two-car garage beneath his unit, he’d made up his mind. He’d back off for now, give her a few days to be mad at him. But come next week, he fully intended to ask her out again, so they could heal the rift between them.
A woman like Lina was as rare and precious a find as Monk’s piano, and he didn’t intend to let either slip through his fingers.
By Monday morning, Lina had managed to push most of her annoyance at Rashad aside, in favor of working on a new case. He hadn’t contacted her over the weekend, and she was glad. She was about to embark on a new phase in her career as an attorney, and the last thing she needed right now was to be distracted. Rashad MacRae was about the biggest distraction she’d ever encountered.
She shifted through the case files on her desk, looking for a particular piece of paperwork she needed to get started on her research. After a few moments of flipping through the pile, she realized she wasn’t getting anywhere. She pressed a button on her intercom system and asked her legal assistant to come in.
Randi Mayer entered a few moments later, the long strap of an attaché case slung over her shoulder. She was professionally dressed as usual, wearing a soft blue button-down shirt with a pair of navy blue boot-cut slacks. She also wore a pair of navy pumps with heels so high Lina wondered how she kept from twisting her ankles with every step. The young woman, a recent graduate of Duke Law, was extremely efficient at her job. If anybody could find what Lina needed, it was Randi.
“Are you looking for the Needleman files?” Randi asked the question as she crossed the room toward Lina’s desk.
Lina rubbed a hand over her forehead. “Yes. Do you know where they are?”
Randi extended a manila folder. “Here they are. I took them yesterday afternoon, typed them up and made copies. I should have told you, but by the time I finished, you’d already gone home for the day. Sorry about that.”
Relief caused Lina’s breath to escape in a long sigh. “Thanks, Randi.” Now that she had the files in her possession, she could get on with the rest of her day. As she flipped through the neatly typewritten pages, she thanked her lucky stars for such an efficient assistant.
“Do you need me for anything else?” Randi stood by the desk, waiting.
Knowing how tiresome it must be to stand in one place in those sky-high heels, Lina gestured to one of the two empty chairs on that side of the desk. “Yes. Go ahead and have a seat. With any luck, we can finish up our pretrial preparation before the day is out.”
Randi sat, pulling out a yellow legal pad and pen from her case. She crossed her legs and grasped the pen. “Okay, Ms. Smith-Todd, I’m ready.”
Opening the case file to the first page, Lina began dictating. “Case file for case number 26008, Howard Needleman versus Dewey and Fowler Incorporated.”
Lina then began to speak about the particulars of the case while Randi transcribed. Howard Needleman claimed to have been unfairly targeted by his new boss. Mr. Needleman insisted that his new superior, Kate Miller, was a female chauvinist who’d placed him on probation for no other reason than to threaten his job. At first, Lina had thought the case far-fetched, but Mr. Needleman and a few of the other men working in his office had presented her with compelling evidence to support his claims.
While Howard remained the only named plaintiff, four other men working in middle management within Dewey and Fowler all had similar stories. Two had been placed on the same kind of employment probation as Howard, and the other two spoke of several negative encounters with Mrs. Miller. One man had even taken it upon himself to use his smartphone to record audio of one of Mrs. Miller’s tirades. The Needleman case was, by far, the most interesting one she’d ever been tasked with.
As lunchtime approached, Lina’s bleary eyes and growling stomach made her close the case file. “Let’s take lunch, I’m