Page 27 of When The Rain Falls

"Rebecca, it's the call," I hear Ann whisper behind me.

I spin on my heels and turn to Ann, just as a leggy blond pops out of an office behind her. My partner, Rebecca. TheBestof Hudson & Best, PLLC. She's wearing a tailored grey suit dress and her hair is pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. All business and all professional. That's Rebecca. I, on the other hand, can barely keep my shit together most of the time.

"Rebecca, I got this," I say with all the command I can muster. Which isn't much considering how my entire body is burning with pins and needles.

"I know you do," she says carefully. "But I should be on the call. For moral support. To make sure everything remains calm." She walks up to me and places a calming hand on my arm. I immediately shrug her off.

"I'm fucking calm, Rebecca," I snarl before I turn around and stomp through my office door. I slam the door behind me, but Rebecca catches it with her hands. God, she’s persistent. I pull out my chair and plop onto it. I immediately spring back to my feet. I'm so damn fidgety. Like my skin is too tight.

"Fine. Sit." I point Rebecca to the chair across from my desk. She obediently takes a seat.

I grab my desk phone and straighten it out. The light for line five is blinking red, like a broken stop light. I clench a fist, take a deep breath, and punch the button.

"Finn Hudson.”

"Mr. Hudson," comes a perky male voice on the other end of the call. "I’m Preston Flaherty. I'm calling from the Office of Disciplinary Counsel for the Washington State Bar Association." Even his name sounds stuffy and pretentious.

"I was hoping we could schedule a formal interview,” he continues, “but it looks like you’re not represented by counsel yet.”

"Interview? I'll tell you everything right now," I bellow into the phone, jabbing a finger into my desk.

Rebecca shakes her head at me. She’s used to my outbursts. She sees herself as my handler. She crosses her legs and dangles the back of a dainty heel off her foot. She’s flicking a pen nervously against her leg.

"Barry Bartholomew,” I continue. “That's what fucking happened. Are you opening a file on him, too?"

"Finn, no," Rebecca mouths loudly.

"Uh…” Preston pauses.

"Are you interviewing Barry? That asshole can stretch the truth like a wad of fucking bubble gum." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can even think about them.

"Hi, Preston," Rebecca answers after jumping out of her seat and cutting me off. I open my mouth, but Rebecca quickly covers it with her palm. I glare at her as she leans into the speaker. "It's Rebecca Best, I'm Finn's partner. I assure you, we're working on getting that lawyer lined up.” She tentatively pulls her hand off my mouth. I try not to pout.

"Great. Once you do that, have the lawyer contact me as soon as possible."

"Will do. Absolutely," Rebecca says, clicking the button to the call.

"I don't need a fucking lawyer, Rebecca. I can defend myself."

She gives me a look that saysget real.

Anger bubbles in my chest. The pressure squeezes my lungs and my vision starts to blur.One. Two. Three. I try to practice controlled breathing when I’m angry, but counting always makes me angrier. I think it’s the number four. It’s just a fucking stupid number.

"Finn. You need a lawyer. You're emotionally invested.”

“I didn't throw my phone at the bailiff! It was an accident."

"Yeah well, youdidthrow your phone." She crosses her arms and looks pointedly at me.

"I threw it at the ground, it bounced, andthenit hit the bailiff. It wasn't assault in the third degree."

"That's what we want the investigation to reveal. But that's not going to happen if you keep blowing up like a hot head every step along the way." Damnit. She's right. She's always right. I can't let them discipline me over this. I can't give Barry the satisfaction.

Barry Bartholomew is my nemesis. We've been working opposite sides of a business case for the better part of a year. He thinks his title and the fact that he can grow an impressive beard makes him better than the rest of the population. He's probably standing against the floor to ceiling windows of his fortieth floor Seattle office right now, looking down on the city like a demigod.

A couple months ago, Barry and I got into a heated argument after a court hearing. I got angry and threw my phone. The bailiff was collateral damage. The judge only saw bits and pieces, but he filed a bar complaint against me for disrespecting his courtroom. He missed the part where Barry was jabbinghis finger repeatedly into my chest and falsely accusing me of destroying evidence.

"I need to find out what Barry's been telling people." I pick up my receiver.

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