Page 29 of Who's Your Daddy
My lips twitch. “Yeah, but nobody will miss me. It’s fine.”
Chapter 10
Lola
“So you’re keeping the Philips Estate and the three custody cases, plus your two GALs here in the office.”
Brian grimaces. Just as I predicted, he’s not happy with this arrangement. The man lives for his cases, so passing several of them to associates in the main office is painful for him.“Considering we have to be open to new cases in Jersey, we can’t handle more than that.” He sags in his chair.
“We could have kept the Treams Estate and probably the Ferris’ custody case too. I was handling those.”
Brian cocks a brow. “You’re now responsible for all three of us and our caseloads. Not just me.”
My muscles lock up at the reminder. Right, I’m working with the Murphy boys as well. Over the weekend I got settled in my new place, all the while actively working to forget the turmoil Cal and his thoughtfulness forced on me. I was fairly successful, and the man has returned to the box in my mind where he belongs. The one reserved for annoyances only.
Especially after his paralegal emailed me, laying out the chaos that is his caseload. The man needs to focus. I might have to start tying him to his desk chair.
“Also.” Brian taps his fingers, his attention drifting to a spot just overhead.
Dread threads its way through me. “No.” I know this look. Whatever it is, I don’t want any part of it.
“I haven’t even said anything.”
Frowning, I cross my arms. He’s going to ask whether I want to hear it or not, so I might as well let him get to it.
He sighs, resting his forearms on his desk. “Somehow we only got one copy of the Narson trial binder, and I need two for court this afternoon.”
I grit my teeth and force myself to breathe evenly. “The one with 97 exhibits?”
With a grimace, he pulls the five-inch three ring binder out of a bag he must have hidden on the other side of his desk. “The old copy machine was set up over the weekend, and Sully had a Staples order delivered so we have paper. Think you could whip together a second one for me?”
“Fine.” I grab the massive thing off the desk and storm out of his office.
The main space is barely bigger than my office space in New York, yet I share it with the monster of a copier. One wall opens to a large closet for redwell storage, and the carpet is a dingy gold. The walls definitely weren’t this drab grayish-yellow color when they were painted decades ago. No, it’s the grime and dirt that were permanently absorbed by it.
At least the putrid smell is gone.
My “desk” is a folding table that the guys swear will be replaced “soon,” but I’m not holding my breath. The Sheetrock above me creaks like someone is walking around the apartment upstairs, but no one is home. Sully is in his office and Cal has yet to return from taking Murphy to school.
Hesitantly I glance up, suddenly concerned the ceiling might collapse on top of me. Though the paint is cracked, it seems stable, so I let out a sigh and get back to work.
“Lo!” Sully calls. “I’m going to print something I need sent out asap.”
“She’s working on my binder,” Brian yells.
“She can do both,” Sully hollers back.
Right, because I’m their fairy godmother I can do all the things. Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo.
The printer groans, then makes the kind of noise that signals that it’s going to start spitting out papers. Instead, it thunks and goes quiet. I’m halfway across the room when it lets out a loud beep.
Of course it’s jammed. How could the dinosaur not be? I heft the heavy lid, ready to work my magic, starting with the most likely culprit. I pull open the door that should allow me access to the jammed paper, but when I peer in, paper isnotwhat I find.
Stomach lurching, I leap back, a full-body shudder working its way through me.
Oh no. God, no. It’s full of hundreds, no, maybe thousands of maggots.
“Oh shit.” I whisper as I continue backing away from the little white wormy things. “Oh shit.” Heart pounding, I shake out my hands. I have to get away from the bugs. Now. When I take another step back, my calf hits a box and I stumble.
