Page 59 of Contention

This time, her face is staring back at her.

“The damn fax machine isn’t working,” Derrick grouses, pressing a button aimlessly on the machine in question. “I can’t send anything over to…anyone.”

Bob doesn’t look up from his laptop, pounding away on his keyboard like he’s trying to murder it. “Did you call IT?”

Giving him a less than serene expression, Derrick moves back to his seat and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll have to open a ticket. Then wait in a queue.”

“You’re the named partner of this firm, screw business process and just tell them your stuff is priority.”

The sun is filtering through the windows, giving a lovely view of the cityscape. The weather is quickly starting to heat up, moving from an average of sixty-five degrees to seventy-five in a random leap overnight. The humidity is beginning to get stifling, so bad that Kara can feel the stickiness walking across her floors when at home.

The light bounces off Derrick’s dark hair, somehow obscuring the slight highlight of grey beginning to show by his temples. He’s still got the exhausted look about him and Kara worries that the chaos of his home life is wearing him down and burning him out at work. Leaning back in his chair, he loosens his tie, wristwatch catching the sunlight with a flash. He sighs, looking up at the ceiling for a moment of thought.

“Then, I look like a jag-off.” Derrick rolls his chair back over to fax machine and pulls out the documents he’d placed within. Stuffing them into a folder, he puts it on his desk, staring at it irritably. “I need to get this over to Calais today. I’m tied up this afternoon, so-”

At this, Bob stands up and acts like he’s taking a bullet for the team, adjusting the waist of his slacks around his potbelly. “I’ll go and let that fancy shit know what’s what.”

Derrick gives him a pained look. “I don’t think so. Last time you went to his office, you threatened to take a dump in his briefcase. Nicholas has only just stopped tormenting me about that event.”

“Oh, it was a jest between men, Derrick, and we all know that hyena appreciates a bad laugh…”

Their conversation becomes background noise to Kara as she studiously pretends to not exist, because no way in hell is she going to go talk to that awful man. She’s not even sure she would be able to look him in the eye without remembering the way he sounds when he’s aroused and pinning her down, caressing her insides until she’s spilling on his palm.

…“Still having fun, sweetpea?”…

Embarrassingly, she feels herself clench in vague excitement at the memory and she mentally calls herself a traitorous slut.

No, no she can’t go to that office. Not for the sake of her sanity, which appears to be hanging by threads. How sick is she, that she enjoyed what he did to her? How messed up is her brain, that she was okay with how he spoke to her, almost threatening with his aggressive sexuality?

What’s even worse is that she wanted him to be rougher, even despite the trickle of fear driving her to greater heights.Sick, twisted, wrong…

There’s a noise, the sound of paper sliding across a solid surface. Kara looks up from her laptop and sees some folders have made their way across the table to her. She refrains from groaning in dismay. Derrick looks apologetic, mouth twisted in a regretful grin. “Sorry, Kara. Bob likes to pick fights with everyone at Calais, Vickers, and Yates.”

Sputtering, Kara replies, “Who says I don’t?”

Bob chuckles, hands on his robust hips, “If you do, I don’t think they take you as seriously.”

The insinuation makes Kara scowl up at him. He’s always talking down to her subversively and it makes her head hurt. “Why, because I’m a woman?”

“Ah, sort of. That, and the fact that you don’t look old enough to be an associate. When I’m angry, I threaten to shit in men’s briefcases. When you’re angry, you look like a hissing kitten with no claws, stomping your feet.”

Standing up from her seat, Kara points her pen at him, “I fu-” she catches herself before she swears in front of Derrick, “I resent that statement, I’ll have you know.”

Derrick is frowning at the other man, pressing his fingers into his temple. “Bob…just…stop. Kara can take care of herself.” He adds another folder to the stack from his drawer. “While you’re over there, give this to Jackson. It’s for the Debra Mills case.”

Bob groans at the mention of Debra Mills. He’s quickly lost any respect for the woman after the continued surprises in court that the defense has been bringing forth. Clearly, he just wants the case done and over with.

Looking at the stack of paperwork, Kara feels herself cringe. Lovely. She’ll be making the rounds at the opposition today. “Jackson is the big one, right?”

Bob is nodding enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah. Not the blonde pretty boy that flirts with all his witnesses.” He and Derrick share a laugh at that. “Little shit…” Bob mutters under his breath.

Thank God for small favors, because Sunshine is just as likely to flirt with her if Kara needs to bring him anything. In fact, Sunshine reminds Kara of the guys in bars that love to boast about how successful they are to girls they are trying to pick up. Laying it on too thick and sounding far too arrogant to live. Kara prefers Rugby, even though his appearance makes her think that he’s the sort to get in a fight in an alley for the fun of it.

Gathering up the folders, Kara, gives Bob a sidelong glance. “Did you really threaten to take a deuce in Calais’s briefcase?”

Looking very much so like a naughty boy caught throwing frogs at his classmates, Bob grins, the lines of his face deepening. “That I did.”

“Good for you,” Kara replies as a peace offering between them. But, mostly because she’s vaguely impressed.

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