“What do you have here?”

  “I set up security cameras when my car was trashed a while ago.”

  “Your car was trashed?”

  “Yeah, and someone called in that fake gas leak a while ago. But now someone’s actually been hurt and it was Rox. She doesn’t need that crap. I need to see what the hell is going on back there.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.” He focused on pulling up the video files. He found the one from last night and started scrolling through it.

  He’d shown Rox the video of the person in the alley from the night of the fake reported gas leak. She’d said she didn’t recognize the person and hadn’t felt like anyone had been following her. But the call about the gas leak and now an actual gas leak was too much of a coincidence. Fast forwarding through the selected time period, he saw another shadowy figure in the alley. He couldn’t tell if it was the same person, but they certainly looked like they were on the lookout for something.

  Everyone in the kitchen left out the back and said their goodbyes. The only one who hadn’t left was Rox. She was last out as usual and made sure the door closed behind her. She got on her bike, slipped on her helmet, and peeled out of the alley. The person hung in the shadows until she was gone and then started to check around the utility meters and things outside of the bar. They took something out and were messing with the meters. Then they stopped and left abruptly. He made a note to get a cage for all those boxes in the back.

  Still, nothing had been done that looked like it would have caused the leak. Scanning forward, he saw the person reappear just before 7 a.m. This time they were dragging a hammer. They went to work on the pipes running along the outside and wheeled a dumpster in front of it. An hour or so after they began their handiwork and left, Rox pulled up on her bike to start her early prep.

  She unlocked the back door with her key and stuck a crate she’d strapped to her bike in the door. Sometimes she stopped at a market to pick up an ingredient she needed on the way in. With the door propped open, he saw her go into the kitchen and immediately turn to leave. She stumbled over the crate and fell out into the alley. What the hell? Why hadn’t she told him that she’d nearly passed out over this?

  She pushed herself up off the ground and reached into her pocket to get her phone. Within minutes, police and fire personnel were all over the place and she was in the back of the ambulance.

  He sat in shock as he stared at what could have happened in front of him. Rox could have died. If she hadn’t put that crate there and let some air into the room behind there it was completely possible she could have been killed. Jen was on the phone behind him, talking to someone at the police station. They needed to get to the bottom of who was doing this stuff. Was it all the same person? Why were they doing it?

  22

  Mark and Jen sent the videos to the police to try to get them onto whatever was happening at The Bramble. Someone tried to do some damage to the place and it was serious. Rox could have been killed. It wasn’t something she wanted to even think about. They’d sent off all they knew and hoped that someone would be able to get to the bottom of it. That afternoon, Mark had big, motion-censored spotlights installed in addition to the video cameras. They’d cost an arm and a leg, but when the safety of his friends and the bar came into play, he’d grit his teeth and bear it to catch whoever the hell it was. And if it was Cheryl or one of her boy toys, he would nail her to the wall with this. They hoped that once the lights were there, whoever showed up would be well lit enough that they could get a new picture.

  He took a break from everything that was happening there and lugged her canvases into the art building and up to Keira’s office. He knocked on the door and she met him with a bright smile that got even brighter at the sight of the canvases in his hands.

  “She let you bring this many? I would have thought she would have had a death grip on most of them.”

  He faltered. “Well, she doesn’t exactly know I took them.” He glanced away.

  “What do you mean?” she said mid-grab for the artwork. “She doesn’t know you took these specific ones or that you took her work at all?”

  “She doesn’t know that I took it at all.”

  “Oh, Mark. I can’t believe you took these without asking her.”

  “I didn’t have time, Keira. And you said you needed them soon for this fellowship. I figured that if she didn’t get it, it would be no harm, no foul. Jen’s already self-conscious about her work. I have no idea why. It’s amazing. But if she doesn’t get it, she doesn’t even need to know. If she does get it, then it’s excellent, validating news and she’ll have to take her art seriously.”

  “Mark …”

  “Keira, I know jack shit about art, but even I know she could do some great stuff. She’s always so worried about doing the right thing. I’m trying to give her a chance to do something for herself.”

  “You do know the fellowship is in New York, right?” He gulped past the knot in his throat. He’d read something about that. And it blew—it really blew—but he didn’t want to hold her back from something that could transform her life. He nodded and handed the canvases over to Keira.

  She held each one at arm’s length, making small noises as she turned them this way and that. She took her time going through each and every one and made notes as she went. Glancing back at him, she shook her head.

  “You know, looking at these things almost makes me want to hate her. She has barely had an art class in her life and she’s this good. It makes me wonder what the hell I’ve been doing all my life. I mean, she blows pretty much everything I’ve ever done out of the water, and I do this for a living. Well, barely a living, but still a miniscule living.”

  “I can’t even imagine what it must feel like to suck so hard at something you’ve worked on so long,” he said, staring at the canvases, trying to keep a straight face. Keira hauled back and whacked him hard in the arm.

  “Ow!” he said, rubbing his arm.

  “That’s what you get for being such a jerk!”

  “I was only agreeing with you.”

  “You’re not supposed to agree with me about stuff like that. You’re supposed to pump me up and tell me how wonderful I am.”

  “Of course you’re wonderful, Keira.” He slung his arm around her shoulder. “So, you’re going to submit her work?” He gave Keira his best puppy eyes.

  “I don’t know, Mark. I feel like that would almost be a violation. I mean, submitting her work when she doesn’t even want other people to see it—I don’t know if I should even do it.”

  “Please,” he clasped his hands together, “I’ll give you free drinks for a year.”

  “Why are you so adamant about this? What’s the upside for you?”

  “I want her to live her dream, Keira. I want that for her. She’s worked so hard and she’s always taking care of everyone else and helping everyone else. I want to do that for her. I want to be that person for her. Even if she doesn’t want to take the fellowship, if she gets it, it would show her that she’s got something and maybe she wouldn’t be afraid of showing other people what she can do.” Keira was silent for a while as she stared at the canvases again, which were all lined up along her wall. She paced back and forth in front of them, taking her time looking over each one.

  “Okay,” she said, letting out a sigh. “I’ll submit them, but if she comes after me I’m totally telling on you.” He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her in for a bear hug. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and picked her up.

  “Thank you, thank you! I promise, you won’t regret it.”

  “I sure hope not,” she grumbled.

  Even with all the craziness going on in her life—the Alex and Gabe stuff, what happened at The Bramble, and her partnership meeting coming up—Jen managed to squeeze in a couple more art classes over the past couple of weeks, and it had done wonders for her mood. Also, kicking ass at lawyering was also making her days speed by. She sat in another class Keira led. This one was more of a free association, open-ended class. Unfortunately, Mark was not there as her muse, but it was fun working under Keira’s direction and guidance.

  “Jen, your work is impeccable as always. You’re always able to convey the inner thoughts of the subjects so well. To bring out whatever it seems to be on their minds.”

  She shrugged, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t something she did on purpose, it was just how she was able to see people when she drew them. In normal everyday interactions, things like that could slip by, but once she got into artist mode, it all became so clear to her.

  “Thanks.”

  “How would you feel about doing this as more than a hobby?”

  “Like as a job?”

  “Yeah, sure. Creating, showing your work at galleries, selling it.”

  “I don’t think anyone would be interested in that,” she said, putting her charcoal back to the page.

  “I think you underestimate yourself, Jen. I think there are a lot of people who would be interested in your work and interested in where you could go next.”

  “Next?”

  “Yes, if you could focus on this work full time and work with some great teachers.”

  “I have a great teacher—you,” she said, pointing the charcoal at Keira.

  “You know what I mean. Someone really prolific and renowned.”

  “And why would they want to work with me?”

  “You sell yourself short, Jen. You really do.”

  “I’m only trying to be realistic, Keira.”

  “So am I,” she said, placing a hand on Jen’s shoulder. She squeezed it and turned Jen toward her. “Why are you always so down about your work and hesitant to show it?”

  She’d always thought of her work as a hobby that wasn’t to be taken seriously. Her father drummed that into her head when her mom died. He’d been the opposite of supportive and would often take away her supplies as punishment for whatever infraction she’d committed growing up. He made sure she knew that her work was not serious and shouldn’t be anything more than something to fill her miniscule free time after studying and more studying.

  “I wasn’t exactly encouraged to pursue my art growing up,” she said, uneasily. Focused on her canvas, she could see every flaw in her work in vivid detail, picking it all apart because she knew someone else was looking. “When I draw on my own, it’s freeing and I can relax. The minute I know someone else is going to see it, I start seeing everything wrong with it. I can’t help it. It’s always been something that’s been under the critical glare of my father, and he always found something wrong. I only ever felt comfortable showing my friend Alex my stuff.”

  “That sucks.”

  Jen shrugged. It was what it was.

  “It did, but that’s the way it was and I guess it’s given me a bit of a phobia when it comes to having my work out there. I always feel like it’s not good enough.”

  “But it is, Jen. It really is.”

  “I guess. But since I’ve never had the balls to show it to anyone else, I’ve never known if it’s any good, so it’s a cycle where I still don’t have the balls to show it to anyone.”

  “So, if somehow you got some validation that it was really great, maybe you’d relax some and actually feel more confident in it.”

  “Perhaps, but I’m not really up for anything like that. I would have a heart attack knowing that someone was judging my work.”

  “But if it were some kind of blind judging, maybe you would be okay with that?”

  “Maybe. Is there something like that coming up?”

  “Maybe…”

  23

  Sitting outside of the partners’ conference room, Jen tried to still the nervous tapping of her leg, but she failed. She hadn’t been in her office for more than fifteen minutes when they’d asked for her to come along to meet with the partners a full hour before their scheduled meeting. Their secretary gave Jen a reassuring smile.

  She wracked her brain to try to figure out why they would want to see her early. Was it because of the Gabe case? She rocked that. Maybe it was a reprimand for something Chad did. She wouldn’t be surprised if he found some way to try to throw her under the bus even though she’d worked everything out. When it came to Alex, she would have run someone down with her car, if needed. And if it was Chad, she’d do it for fun.

  Her billable hour reviews were always excellent. If they were going to jump all over her for not hitting above her targets, well screw them. The door to the conference room opened and Mr. Barlow held it open for her.

  “Jennifer, please come in,” he said, a warm smile across his face. That settled some of the nerves in her stomach a bit. She walked past him into the conference room, where the other partners were sitting around the table. Her steps faltered when her father took his seat at the end of the table. What the hell was he doing here?

  “Mr. Barlow, I wanted to speak to you about the Gabriel Stevens issue. I know that it was originally slated to be Chad—” He held up his hand.

  “Jennifer, we are not here to discuss that issue, although I heard that you did a wonderful job and his agency will most certainly be coming to us for more business in the future. It looks like you’re already expanding your book of business in LA, which is great.” He gestured to the lone empty chair and pulled it out for her. She sat and scooted it forward, resting her hands on top of one another on the table top and shooting a glance at her father, who smiled at her with a self-satisfied look. What was he up to?

  Mr. Barlow took his seat across from Jen. “Jennifer, you have become quite the asset to this firm in the short period of time that you have been here. We value your contributions and we would like to accelerate your promotion to partner.”

  Jen stared at him and clenched her teeth together, so that her jaw didn’t hit the table.

  “How accelerated?” Her leg began bouncing up and down under the table.

  “Effective immediately.” He beamed.

  “Immediately?”

  “Yes, of course. Immediately. We will get all the paperwork ready and have it signed in the next few days. Your father has already signed the paperwork as well and he’ll begin here at the beginning of this month.”

  Her head whipped to her father, who sat at the table, ever the puppet master in her life. The unbridled elation that threatened to bubble out of her throat into a full blown giddy laugh died as she realized what happened. Her move to LA hadn’t done what she hoped. She wasn’t moving out from under her father’s sphere of influence, she’d just been served up as a full-on accessory to getting the great Lewis Taylor. It was a smack in the face. After everything she’d fought for in her career—all the pushback she’d given Chad for his digs about her only being here because of her father—it was all true.

  She stood and everyone at the table stood. She turned to all the other partners and thanked them for the opportunity. Letting them know that she looked forward to reading over the partnership agreement, she excused herself from the conference room. Walking calmly and deliberately, despite the shaking, she made it to the women’s restroom before she let the tears flow.

  Every grade she’d gotten in law school questioned by her classmates. Her father was an alum of the school and a big donor. Her summer associate positions weren’t her own because her father’s connections were what got her those grades, according to everyone she met. Becoming an associate, then moving to another firm to set out on her own—nothing she did was ever based on her own merits as far as anyone else was concerned. And now the cherry on top! Not only was she made partner because of her father, but he’d brokered the deal behind her back to ensure that no one would ever take her seriously. She’d busted her ass studying for the LSATs, studying for hours upon hours, and taking practice tests until she could get a perfect score.

  Every class, she took notes, practically slept in the library, read and re-read every assignment, all trying to prove herself.

  She hadn’t applied to her father’s firm for her summer associateship and had even put a different last name on her resumes to try to ensure that her connection hadn’t influenced those decisions. Every time she tried to distance herself from her father, it didn’t work. People would never think she’d ever made it there on her own and on her own merits. This certainly wasn’t going to convince them. Wiping her eyes and running some cold water over her face, Jen stared at herself in the mirror and wondered what the hell she was going to do.

  Grabbing some paper towels, she wiped her face and dried the water on her neck. Checking to make sure that she looked at least semi-presentable, she threw open the door to the bathroom and jumped, clutching her chest at her father standing outside of the bathroom.

  “You scared me half to death, Dad!”

  “I wanted to check in on you. You seemed upset when you left the conference room.”

  “In my office,” she mumbled at him. The long, quiet walk to her office had her stomach in knots. She opened the door and let her dad in before closing it, then shutting her eyes and resting her head against it.

  “Jennifer, you’re starting to scare me. What is going on?” he demanded, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Dad, did you ever think that maybe I didn’t want your help in becoming partner? That maybe part of the reason that I moved here in the first place was to get away from you and your influence? I didn’t ask you to help. I didn’t ask for you to come here and meddle in my life!”

  “Jen, calm down.”

  “No, I won’t calm down! Dad, my entire life, I have lived in your shadow, doing everything I could to try to make a life for myself that was separate from you while still making you happy. I went to the college that you wanted. I went to the law school that you wanted. I even stayed in the city you wanted. And the one time I go off-plan and try to do something on my own, you reel me back in. Not only that, you decide to tag along for good measure.”

  “Jen, I’m not going to sit here and apologize for doing things in your life to make things easier.”

 

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