Page 15 of Studious
Danny: I’m not going to fail, but okay. Deal. And if I win?
Charlie: Shoutout from me.
Danny: You wouldn’t do that just as a friend?
Charlie: Fuck no. I have sponsors.
Danny: Fine.
I shut off the lights and go to bed. As always, Mamacita curls up in the bend of my knees as I lie on my side. I’m sure I can come up with some way to make myself go viral. Tomorrow.
* * *
On Monday morning, I’m in court. This is only a preliminary hearing, but of course I’ve dressed in my usual bespoke suit and custom shoes. I’m feeling good but trying not to grin.
When I win—which is often—I do my best to maintain appropriate courtroom decorum. Meaning I don’t say, “Take that, motherfucker!” in front of the judge. Instead, I say, “Thank you, Your Honor,” and close my laptop, sliding it into my briefcase.
As we stand up to leave, I reach over and shake the opposing counsel’s hand. Amelia Crowley and I face off against each other regularly, since I advocate for LGBTQIA+ employees and her firm often represents employers. “Well done,” she says, with a gleam in her eye. “I’ll get you next time.”
I smile and shrug. “Maybe.”
I’m representing Johnny Haskell, who’s better known as Velvet the Cowboy. He’s not here today, because this is just a spat about discovery. Still, a reporter was sitting in the back of the courtroom taking notes. This is a messy case, and it’s starting to get publicity, because it’s not every day a porn star sues for sexual harassment.
I haven’t watched any of his scenes since I’ve been on the case, because that would be awkward, but I’ve seen some of them before.
Sooo, yeah. My job’s a little different than if I were representing some faceless company. I love being a lawyer. It’s all I ever wanted to do. But I’m really glad I chose to work at Weston& Ramirez rather than some firm where I’d be defending jackass executives every day.
As I step out of the courthouse into the bright midmorning sunshine, someone takes my photo. I’m sure it’s the press. On my way to my car, I call Johnny.
He picks up immediately. “How’d it go?” he asks, a nervous squeak in his voice. You’d never know this is a dude who’s fucked more men than me—and on camera, no less. He’s the shyest man when he’s not in character as a dom.
I grin. “We won this round.”
“Yes.God. Thank you, Danny.”
“No problem. And let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We still have a lot to do before trial. Or maybe they’ll do the right thing and settle. Their attorney is pretty savvy, but she can only do what her clients want her to. For now, don’t worry about it. I have it under control.”
“Cool. Are you going to send me a bill anytime soon?”
“Yeah. There’s been a delay because we lost our bookkeeper. I think the new one started today—I dunno, I haven’t been in the office yet this morning. But thanks for staying on top of that.”
“I just want to make sure you get compensated. I appreciate your work.”
I walk through the parking lot and say goodbye, then get in my sports car, headed to the office.
Still wondering how I’m going to get the followers to win my bet with Charlie.
CHAPTER3
Alden
The elevator pings, and the doors open to the fourteenth floor reception area of this Century City office tower. Or, really, the thirteenth, but this is one of those buildings where the planners thought superstition was more important than accuracy.
As a bookkeeper, I disapprove of skipping numbers or pretending they don’t exist. It makes it seem like the architect or engineer can’t count, which is not encouraging when you’re fourteen—or thirteen—floors off the ground.
Nerves make my stomach churn. I hope I’ll like it here. Iwantto like it here.
I adjust my tie and, doing my best to look confident, stride toward the receptionist behind the front desk. He’s a slim man with a bleached platinum coif and shiny lip gloss, wearing an expensive-looking light blue polo that fits like it was designed specifically for him. He runs out to meet me before I get halfway into the room, though.
