Page 14 of Bullet

He was serious. To him, it was just that easy, but how could he make promises on behalf of an entire organization?

Now that I’m about to be unemployed with a four-thousand-dollar a month mortgage payment, and a sister I’m putting through college, I feel less like scoffing at the idea now than I did on Saturday morning.

Was it really only two days ago? All that damage done, my career summarily executed, in forty-eight hours.

My mother died in under a minute.

There are one thousand four hundred and forty minutes in a day. All it takes is a single one to change everything.

I blink away the sting of tears. Crying right now, when I do it so rarely, would be the most humiliating moment of my life. “Will you give me a reference? For all the years I’ve worked here,all the work I’ve done, all the cases I’ve won and the money I brought into this firm?”

Samantha shakes her head, honest regret flashing in her bright green eyes. “I’m sorry. We won’t be able to do that.” She hardens herself, withdrawing right in front of me. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave now.”

Is this how Hamish saw me, my cold professional stoicism painting me as something less than human because that’s how I need to be seen in order to survive in this industry, and probably in the world as well? It’s wretched, being on the other end of it. Being judged and sentenced when I’ve done nothing wrong. The irony burns my cheeks like they’ve just been pressed and held to a red-hot stove.

The injustice scorches me again as I stand, but it’s the wasted time that wraps its thick fingers around my neck and squeezes until I can’t breathe. All the fourteen-hour days, the working weekends, the unpaid time, the research, the constant worrying about cases even when I was at home—it all dumps down on me like a tree overloaded with snow. One small bump and the avalanche buries you alive.

I try for my usual blasé, but when I reach for that mask to slap it in place, all I find is a brittle, empty façade, cracked right down the middle.

It’s so tempting to be childish and nasty after I was humbled in here for doing nothing more than my job, but I offer a fleeting smile that I hope serves as a giant middle finger. “Thanks.”

It’s the one-word responses that drive people insane.

Samantha doesn’t allow further emotion to show. “Please go and gather your things now,” she reiterates.

I smooth down my skirt and run my hands over my blue cashmere sweater. There’s already a security guard at the door. I don’t recognize him. We normally don’t have one up here, but there are several on the main floor of the building. I know all their names, as well as all the names of every paralegal and receptionist who works here. The building is twelve stories, one of the largest legal firms in Seattle. I might work in criminal law, but there are other floors reserved just for corporate and family law.

As I walk to the elevator to take it down to my office, the security guard hovering just behind me, it takes everything I have to hold myself together. It drills through my chest that my whole life has become this carefully constructed shell, and now it’s all crashed down. It hits me what that aura was that seemed to surround Hamish. I couldn’t place it, but it just about bowls me over now.

There was nothing pretentious about Aberdeen. He was so perfectly at home in his own skin and in the life he’s chosen for himself. While it would drive me insane to be seen as a villain or a criminal, he just laughed it off when I suggested he wasn’t on the right side of the heroic spectrum.

He’s so big and deadly looking. I judged him harshly, but he still wasn’t unkind. Around here, people might give off the vibes that they can be trusted, that they’re good, that they believe in the law, but beneath that, they’re slippery and snaky.

I’m shaking by the time I enter my office.Formeroffice, as the token white file box sitting there taunts. I have my fewpersonal belongings packed up in five minutes. I don’t need to linger.

On the main floor, carrying the white box, which is pathetically only a quarter full, I hand in my security badge at the front desk.

Old Jonus, with his wild head of frizzy white hair and his thick glasses, gives me a mournful look. I wonder if he knew to expect me down here. Probably. He’s worked at this desk for twenty-three years. How many people has he seen come and go in that time?

“Take care, Jonus,” I whisper, meaning it, my gut cramping and hot pinpricks stabbing at the backs of my eyes.

“You too, Lynette.” He glances around the near empty lobby, lowers his voice, and winks at me. “You’re a cat. You’ll land on your feet and be up and running, clawing and hissing right back in no time.”

I wish I had his confidence in my abilities, but at the moment, I feel more like a kicked puppy than a feral feline.

“Thank you.” I reach across the desk and squeeze his gnarled hand. “Thank you so much for everything over the years.”

“You’re the only person who ever brings me homemade treats. Most people just go for stale doughnuts, bringing them down here because they don’t want to throw them in the garbage. Your baking meant more than just cookies and squares.”

Fuck. I need to get out of here before I start bawling.

It’s a small mercy that there aren’t many people in the lobby to witness my humiliation, but I’ll never live down the shame if I start weeping.

I force a shaky smile before I turn and leave this building forever. Even if I do find work at another firm, there’s zero chance of me ever stepping foot in here again. If I was forced at gunpoint, I’d still try and send someone else.

***

Instead of heading straight home, I sat in my car for hours contemplating my future and coming up blank. Finally, I put off the inevitable and turn the key in the ignition. The commute back to my small bungalow can vary depending on the hour. I’m usually at my desk by six or seven, which means I get to skip the daunting morning traffic, and I don’t leave until late, never earlier than seven, but sometimes eight or nine. The only time I ever get caught up in really bad traffic jams is when I have to leave anywhere near the lunch hour.

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