Page 6 of The Reality of Us
“Excuse me?” She imagined laser beams shooting out of her eyes, turning him into a pile of smoking ash. Hopefully, his undoubtedly expensive cologne was extra flammable. The headlines would be worth it. But then she remembered her media training and the disaster that was her life. That would only cause trouble, especially now all the other customers were shamelessly watching them. Alice bit the insides of her cheeks until she worried she might draw blood.
But you know what should be illegal? Smirking. And when Owen smirked at her, Alice decided her media training could go jump. “What makes sense? The fact I have a cheating husband?”
Owen’s expression melted. Was that regret in his eyes? Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “I was talking about the fact you gave me a fake name last night …” He paused.
The whole freaking store was waiting with bated breath.
“… when I stopped to help you with your broken-down car.”
Goddamn heart eyes shot out of every woman in the place. The wave of warmth and affection for him was so tangible Alice really didn’t need her cardigan anymore.
What would it be like to have people be genuinely happy to see you? The last time Alice experienced that was when she volunteered at the children’s hospital. No one there cared who she was married to. In a previous life, she’d been a children’s party entertainer and her face-painting skills were still next level.
Alice was about to reply when the cashier frowned at the register. “Your card’s been declined.”
For God’s sake.
She dug through her bag, almost groaning with relief when she found a few notes at the bottom. “Here.” She thrust them towards the register. “Have a good day,” she said stiffly, then walked out with her head held high.
Past the whispers.
Past the phones.
Past the pitying, intrigued looks.
She didn’t crumple until she’d flicked the lock on her hotel room door.
Owen jumped when the alarm on his phone for footy training buzzed. Truth be told, he didn’t want to go. Footy had always been his brother Nate’s thing. His brothers had brow-beaten him into agreeing, promising it would be a good way to show everyone he was serious about making a life here. Surely buying the old law office and a half-renovated property on the outskirts of town had sent the message that he was home for good, hadn’t it? Nothing said commitment like several hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt.
Saving what he’d done for one of the women staying at Kathleen’s Place, Owen made a note to review it in the morning. Jessica had tried contacting Legal Aid, and they would have done a good job for her, but time was of the essence. He flicked a quick look at his empty calendar. Time was something he had.
Owen headed to the bathroom to change, but voices in the reception area distracted him. His new secretary, Frankie, stopped laughing when she saw him. She smoothed her curly hair, one hand snagging in the huge gold hoops she wore.
“Owen, hey,” she said, her voice infused with cheer and a bit too much familiarity, in his opinion. “Camille stopped by to say hello. I was just about to send her down to your office.”
It had been years since he’d seen Camille Arturo, but Owen recognised her immediately. His ex’s long dark hair was streaked with blonde and red. Everything about her looked expensive, from her chunky gold bracelets to the rings with colourful stones she wore on every finger. Her body was fuller, more voluptuous. All traces of the gangly girl he’d thought he loved many years ago were long gone.
He’d been expecting someone from the Arturos to make contact once his office was officially open. But given Camille had lived interstate ever since she’d walked out of his life without a backwards glance despite all their years together, he’d assumed one of her brothers would visit. No doubt they were all still unimpressed with his refusal to represent them at his previous law firm. The Arturos weren’t used to hearing the word ‘no’.
Camille raised her arms to hug him as he thrust his hand forward. A handshake was more than she deserved, but Owen wasn’t stupid. Kicking a wasp’s nest was never a good idea. Camille squeezed his palm lightly, her lips fixed in a mischievous grin like they still meant something to each other. As though their shared history was filled with warm, fuzzy memories.
“I heard you’d moved back out here. Thought I’d come and say hi while I was in town. Dad told me about the mix up at Malus, Mendax and Associates. We’re always looking for good lawyers like you.”
‘Good’ was the wrong way to describe the type of representation the Arturos wanted. Owen had no interest in being in their pocket. And it would undermine the police investigation his other brother Rafferty was leading into their family.
“Your needs would be better met with my old firm,” Owen said coolly. “They have more scope and expertise at their disposal.”
It wasn’t a lie. Malus, Mendax and Associates was the biggest law firm in Melbourne. A fact he’d prided himself on when he’d been hired. But over the years, as the founding partners retired, everything changed. The firm’s staunch morals and ethics had been replaced with new managing partners who had rubber arms and elastic necks. For the right price, anyone could be a client.
When Owen had been tasked with representing Camille’s brother, convicted drug dealer Adrian Arturo, the whispers from his conscience had become screams. He’d resigned immediately and been given fifteen minutes to pack up his desk, security guards watching his every move.
A phantom headache reminded him of the hangover he’d woken with the next day. The only thing stopping nausea from consuming him had been the realisation that he was finally free. To be his own boss, really make a change and be closer to his family.
To not just be Owen, the guy who had lost his way.
“Still, you never know. You might change your mind,” Camille said, pulling him from his thoughts as she lifted a bottle of scotch out of her Louis Vuitton handbag and offered it to him. The honey-coloured liquid swished from side to side.
“I won’t,” Owen said.
