“Yes.”
“How soon do you need the information?”
“As soon as possible.”
The court case would not be so soon, but Sam reckons Brian can do with the break. She is supposed to meet him for drinks anyway, but he called to say he would be late.
“The rats are leaving the ship, and the captain is about to be thrown to the sharks,” he says ruefully.
“Hang on in there. Things will get better.”
“They can’t get much worse, or I might as well tie a noose around my neck and spare them the cost of a public hanging.” He sounds so tired over the phone that a pang fleets into her chest. “You wouldn’t believe how many reporters have tried to get through Claudia today. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’m morphing into Kim Kardashian.”
“That bad, huh?”
“I can see them lining up on the streets outside my window. They’re waiting for me to come out. I’ll give them the slip by wearing a wig and fat suit.”
“There’s always the back door.”
“Nope. Last time I checked, they’re camped out there too.”
She has decided not to tell him about the PI. He would just stop her, or at least complicate matters.
“Need some company tonight?” she asks.
“I’d probably come home at midnight and tumble straight into bed. So unless you want a snoring sack for a bed partner, you’d probably get more sleep at home.”
He doesn’t snore and she loves watching him sleep because he looks so beautiful and peaceful. But of course she’s not going to tell him that.
Instead, she says, “OK, I’ll see you next time then. Any other updates?”
“Yeah. My blood test results came back. A copy is with the police.”
“What did they say?”
“No traces of any drugs. Blood alcohol within the limits, so I can’t even claim drunken manslaughter.”
“You didn’t kill anyone.”
“The way everyone is treating me . . . like I’m dog turd scraped off a shoe, you’d think I did.”
“So everything is normal.”
“Nothing is normal.”
“I mean your blood test.”
“My serum Creatinine is high, although everything else within my kidney profile is apparently normal, according to the hospital. So is my potassium, but that could be an artifact, so they say. It apparently comes from eating too many bananas.”
“Do you eat bananas?”
“I can think of a whole lot of things to do with bananas.”
She laughs. “But seriously . . . are your blood results really OK?”
“They couldn’t find anything wrong with me physically during my checkup.”
She tries to make her tone light, even though she’s worried as hell about him. “There’s nothing wrong with you physically.”
“Yeah, before you pass judgment, check back with me tomorrow night and we’ll see if I can get the little pecker up.”
“Last I remembered, it wasn’t that little.”
She can visualize him smiling over the other side. “If all else fails, there’s always Viagra.”
“You and Viagra in the same sentence? That’ll be the day.”
They ring off. He’s still not at his usual brash peak, she notes, but at least he is attempting humor. That’s a good sign. But the fact that his clients are leaving him in droves when he hasn’t even been convicted is a worrying development.
She slips her cellphone back into her purse and peruses the crowded rush hour sidewalk. Then her shoulders slump when she remembers her own predicament.
*
It’s Friday when Sam receives a call from the PI.
“Can you meet me over lunch?” he says.
She has an appointment with Henry Moody today. “Uh, I can’t over lunch. But after work? Say . . . around seven?”
“OK. Bring a check.”
There’s barely going to be anything left in her savings when she has finished paying him, but if she can land Moody and keep her job, then it would be so worth it. Besides, it’s Brian’s life at stake. Nothing can be worth more than that.
Outside her office, Kathy Angleston passes by in her impossibly high heels. She’s in all red today, and the look on her face is like that of a cat which has licked the cream off every other cat’s saucer.
She pokes her head in.
“Heard you got a Henry Moody appointment today,” she says slyly.
Sam seethes. “Who told you that?”
“A little birdie.”
“I suppose you’re going to say you have an appointment with him too.” Typical Kathy Angleston, Sam thinks.
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Kathy winks and sashays away.
Damn.
Now Kathy has her wondering what the hell she’s up to.
*
Three hours later, Sam comes out triumphantly from Moody Enterprises, clutching the precious contract from Henry Moody. She returns to Sapphire and marches into Rutgard’s office.
“There,” she says with a flourish, laying the contract on his table. “I should be getting a raise for this.”
He swivels on his chair to eye her. “For doing your job? I think not. I’ve already decided on the job anyway. Kathy Angleston is more suited for it than you are, and I’ve made up my mind to keep her.”
Sam is dumbstruck.
“Wh-what?” she splutters.
Rutgard takes the contract. “I’ll be keeping this, thank you very much.”
“But I got the contract, just like you said. I’m the first one to land a minimum commitment of a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Yes, but Kathy brought it other accounts to the cumulative sum of two hundred thousand dollars.”
“Bullshit! This is not about the other accounts. This is specifically about Moody! You can’t change the goalposts midway into the match. It isn’t fair!” A thought strikes Sam. “Oh God, what did Kathy give you? A blowjob right here in this office? You f**ked her, didn’t you?”
“That’s beside the point.”
“God!” Sam is so mad right now that she has to use every ounce of her strength to keep herself from hurling at Rutgard to attempt aggravated assault.
“It’s just business.”
“Business has nothing to do with it!”
“You’ve got three days to clear your stuff out. It’s a retrenchment package, Samantha, not the end of the world.”