Page 50 of The Kat Bunglar

Laila Malik

In the hallway just outside the managing partner’s office, Laila’s feet shuffled nervously. She paused mid-step, hearing the toilet flush repeatedly from within Alex’s office.

“I can hear you breathing, Malik,” came Alex’s voice, sharp and commanding as he walked out. “Please come in before you start making permanent scuff marks on the carpet.”

Laila walked in awkwardly, her arms laden with folders, feeling like a first-year intern. Alex Sverdloff’s back was turned to her as he looked down at his desk, rearranging paperwork. “Take a seat,” he said dismissively over his shoulder. “I assume this is bad news. You only reach out when something is about to hit the fan.”

Laila took a seat in one of the tufted wingback chairs facing the window. She bit down on her thumbnail, another nervous habit from her interning days. She hated being in Alex’s office or interacting with him in any way. She had spent the last five years at Sverdloff Law Group going out of her way to avoid him. But since his father was on indefinite leave, she had nowhere else to turn.

She cleared her throat. “I need a few days off—”

“You just had a few days off,” he replied.

“Yes, I know. I didn’t realize that when we came back from Jamaica, we’d be robbed. I just received an anonymous tip this morning that advised the perpetrators are in Los Angeles right now. So, I wanted to take forty-eight hours to pop over there and pursue it.” She held her breath, waiting for his response.

“Mmm...” Alex replied, still not turning around or making eye contact. “And the police can’t handle this why?”

“They are pursuing it, but you know it won’t be high on their priority list, and I think the intel I received is only going to be valid for a few days.”

“Forty-eight hours, exactly?” Alex asked.

Laila squirmed in her seat; the less she said, the better. At this point, she knew he was just toying with her.

When he didn’t receive a response, he turned around and stared at her with his glacial blue eyes, cocking his head to the side. “Did you know your husband called me and asked if I could recommend any divorce lawyers?”

Laila’s eyes widened in surprise before she looked down at her folders, unsure what to say. “I’m surprised he reached out to you,” she said, her voice low and uneven.

“Why?” Alex’s eyes swept over her face. “We were all friends once.”

That was a lie. Alex and Jay had been friends in college, and Laila had teetered on the periphery of their friendship.

Laila cleared her throat. “I’m sorry you two drifted apart.”

Alex snorted. “Is that what he told you?” He perched on the edge of the desk and folded his arms across his chest.

Laila shook her head. “I didn’t really ask.”

Alex nodded slowly and looked up at the ceiling. “Why am I not surprised? You never really did question him on anything. You let him get away with bloody murder; I couldn’t stand by and watch the way—” Alex gritted his teeth and stopped speaking.

Laila glanced up, surprised. She had always assumed she had been invisible to Alex. He had been two years ahead of her and had been ambitious and focused in a way that bordered on neurotic. Every minute of his day held a specific purpose. Just watching him churn through overlapping classes, clubs, activities, internships, and fraternity events left her exhausted.

“Yes, we went to Jamaica. We got robbed. We then decided to get divorced. You’re completely up to speed now,” Laila was shocked to realize her voice was devoid of emotion. Her marriage was ending, and she felt nothing. “I just want to go find whoever did this and get my mother’s rings back. That’s what’s important to me.”

Was it her imagination, or did Alex’s eyes soften slightly? He gave a curt nod. “Understandable. Leave the caseloads with Esme. She’s a newer paralegal we just brought on. You can’t miss her; she has, ah... multiple nose rings and, um, facial jewelry enhancements.”

Laila hid a smile; Alex was always awkward with people outside of his comfort zone.

Laila stood up to leave. As she walked by Alex, he grabbed her elbow. Her eyes widened in surprise; he removed his hand quickly as if singed and muttered an apology. “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. I wanted to say I’m sorry for what you’re going through. I didn’t give Jay a reference; I stated conflict of interest, which isn’t a lie—technically. But if you need assistance on the legal side of things, I’m here. And if you wanted to talk outside of work, I wanted you to know that I can be available.”

She stood in front of him with her mouth agape. He had spoken more words to her in the last eleven minutes than he had in the last eleven years. With a stiff nod, she left his office, completely confused by the interaction.

Turning the corner, she walked toward the open workspace where all the paralegals gathered when they weren’t running back and forth to court. Spotting Esme at the espresso machine, she walked over prepared to introduce herself, but Esme beat her to it.

“Oh my gosh, hi Laila Malik! So nice to meet you,” Esme enthusiastically shook her hand, causing Laila to awkwardly shuffle the folders around.

“Esme, hi. I was told by Alex to reach out to you. Do you have a second?” Laila asked, finally putting down the folders on the communal worktable before going to make herself an espresso as well.

“Yes, absolutely! I just started three weeks ago, and can I say what an honor it is to meet you? I actually wrote a paper on your trial about the Amouzgaar case five years ago—the Iranian girl who faced persecution if she returned to her homeland. Your defense was chef’s kiss,” Esme demonstrated with a quick smack of her lips.

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