Page 79 of The Suit

“We had reports you’ve been here all night.”

He was yet to make eye contact with me, and it was taking all my energy to will my patience to stay, well, patient.

I tried again, taking a deep breath.

“I haven’tbeen here all night. I arrived at approximately two fifteen a.m., and as it’s now…” I checked my watch, “six twenty, that makes it four hours.”

He shone his flashlight into the car again. Maybe he had struggling eyesight, though he probably wouldn’t appreciate me asking after it.

“Have you been drinking?” he asked, finally looked at me.

I quickly did the arithmetic on the one beer I’d had at the game. It wouldn’t be traceable, even though I had no intention of telling him that. He’d pulled over the wrong lawyer this morning… or woken her up anyway. I was depleted of caffeine and the patience I’d tried so hard to hold onto had now vanished in the breeze.

I stared back, matching his glare with the one that usually had people running off in tears. Something I planned to stop doing, right after this guy.

“Look, Officer Krupke, when you’ll get the report back, you’ll see there’s nothing on my license, which will give you no reason to keep questioning me,” I snapped, “so either tell me what exactly it is you’re after, or leave me to go and visit my family.”

“My name is Officer O’Haughen,” he spat as he turned away, ignoring my sass.

More than likely the reference had gone right over his head - probably not a bad thing seeing as I really didn’t have the time to get hauled down to the station for obstruction, or some other bogus charge. His hand pressed against his ear as a response came back over his radio, and from the way his eyes narrowed, it was clear that he didn’t have anything to warrant keeping me, but letting me go was something he really wasn’t happy about either.

He held out my paperwork, snatching it back as I reached for it. “This time I’m letting you off with a warning, but find somewhere else to sleep.”

I leaned further out the window and grabbed them, then took great pleasure in raising the window while he watched, just managing to stop myself from flipping him the bird as I did so. Deploying my stare through the rearview mirror, I waited until he got back in his vehicle and drove off, which he did, though not before waiting another two minutes.

My head fell back against the head rest, and I stared straight ahead at the gate with a deep sigh. The last time I’d walked through those gates I’d been twenty-one years old.

Ten years ago.

Jackson was gone; Muscot and Santa had been stolen from me, and for the first time ever, I was alone. Truly alone.

Then and there I’d decided I needed to get used to it, to that feeling.

I hadn’t though, I’d simply masked it with a Band-Aid which was now well past its effectiveness, the sticky tabs totally worn away. This weekend had been a stark realization that since I’d last walked under that archway, I’d done nothing but survived life.

Survived it. Not lived it.

Rafe was right, I did need more fun. Or any fun.

All I’d seen this weekend was Rafe. Rafe in his natural habitat surrounded by a group of friends I’d always dreamed about having; friends who adored him, and who welcomed me in without a second thought. Especially Kit, even after I’d told her what I’d done. All of them were kind and funny. All of them testament to Rafe’s character; generous and warm and loving.

Rafe.

Rafe who was making me question every decision I’d made since I’d last walked through those gates.

Rafe who was making me wonder how I’d ever hated him.

It was shameful.

It was embarrassing.

And if Muscot and Santa could see what I’d made of my life - or not made - they wouldn’t just be disappointed; they’d be heartbroken.

The opportunity they’d given me had been wasted; I’d run a thousand miles away and used my time by making rich people richer, turning a blind eye to wrong doings. When I’d been given their offer of employment, I’d believed Feather Smythe Jones and Partners would be the answer to all my problems; a fresh start in a fresh city. A chance to put my degree to practice, to prove my worthiness, to practice the law and be the lawyer I’d always imagined; and, as painful as it was to think about, the lawyer that Muscot had been.

But I hadn’t even come close.

Like the enabler in any co-dependent relationship, FSJ had gaslit me into believing I couldn’t ever leave, or that I never had to leave. They’d known I had no family, or ties to anyone. They’d known I was only dependent on myself. They paid me over the odds, they’d convinced me that I was too valuable to them, tempting me with a level of prestige which was always just out of reach, that I only needed to accomplishone more thingto get there. Yet the second I’d arrived in New York – no, the second I’d found myself up against Rafe – the rose-tinted glasses had been smashed and my eyes had been opened to the damage done. The damageIhad done, and the damage I was still doing.

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