“No, ma’am.” As I stretch, I groan where I sit on her office floor. “I’m just exhausted.”
She leans back in her chair. “Why don’t you take a break for the night? Finish them on Monday?”
“Because I still have about five hundred of these things to do.” In an effort to save George Forrester’s re-election campaign some money, we went with mailing labels, instead of printing the addresses directly on the fliers.
And an eighteen-year-old campaign volunteer is the perfect way to apply the stickers to the fliers.
“I’m giving you permission to take a break, boy.”
“Thanks.” I slump back and stare at the boxes of labeled fliers ready to mail. I don’t mind when she calls meboy. It’s Casey’s favorite nickname for me, and she’s the only one who calls me that. It feels…
I don’t know how to explain it. Like Ibelongto someone.
She’s literally my only family, even though I don’t see her as a parental figure, or even as an older sister.
My secret nighttime fantasies are ample proof ofthat.
After Mom died, Casey kept me living in the apartment. Apparently, Mom had a life insurance policy I didn’t know about, plus Casey filed a lawsuit against the driver’s insurance. It really was a legitimate accident. The driver felt anguished that they couldn’t stop or avoid Mom on the icy street. She’d slipped and fallen while crossing, and…
Yeah. Nothing more sinister than Mother Nature at play.
Casey filed the emancipated minor status paperwork for me, but she also talked to the apartment manager and personally guaranteed my behavior, and that the rent would get paid. Casey opened a joint bank account for me with her, so she could keep tabs on me until I turned eighteen, and I didn’t mind that at all.
She helped me get my driver’s license, and I started driving Mom’s car when I had to work for Casey.
Once I graduated from high school and started college, I got rid of the apartment because I lived in the dorm. And when I wasn’t there, I rented a room from Casey, like I am right now.
I’d made it through my first year of college with straightAs. I’m in summer break now, following the end of that semester, but still studying like a motherfucker ahead of the fall semester. I’m also living at Casey’s until school starts again in a few weeks.
Mom and Emma would be proud of me, I hope. I choke up on the maximum credit hours they’ll let me take every semester. I might be able to graduate a year early, at this rate.
Meanwhile, I spend nights and weekends studying, or earning cash working at the law firm doing things like filing, or researching case law for Casey for her pro bono cases.
Because I’m damn good at that already, the research part.
Sometimes, she assigns me to work with a clerk or attorney who can’t speak Spanish, so I can interpret for them. She also has me learning election laws, campaign finance rules, all of that. She wasn’t kidding when she said she wanted me to become an elections wunderkind. I can probably interpret polling data better than the average wonk, because for some reason the numbers make perfect sense to me when I study them, like pictures in my head, even though I sucked at math in high school.
Anyway, I’ll end up attending law school with far more practical, real-world experience than any of my classmates, unless they’re already working paralegals. I’ve attended depositions, court hearings, and trials with Casey, when my class schedule allows it. I’mreallylearning a lot. She took me shopping and helped me pick out a couple of suits and ties, so I’d have appropriate office and courtroom wear. I’m wearing a suit and tie today, even though it’s a Friday, and even though, as an intern, I could get away with khakis and a button-up.
But I want to look the part, live the part. It’s the only way to get what I want, even though I still feel like a faker. I don’thaveto work to earn money, as long as I’m not stupidly buying stuff I don’t need, because what’s not covered by my scholarships I can pay through my savings. I don’t waste my money, though. I’m still driving Mom’s car, because it’s paid for. The most luxurious thing I’ve purchased for myself are the suits, and two pairs of dress shoes to go with them, and Casey told me I can deduct them from my income taxes as a work expense, so that’s a plus.
I’ve watched George Forrester at work, too. He crushes it, especially in depositions and at trials. Super nice guy usually, but you can see the lawyer mask slip into place when it’s go-time. Casey also has that mode. All the attorneys in their firm have that mode, but George and Casey seem especially driven. Casey is brilliantly cutthroat, at times. Compared to them, I wonder if I’ll ever appear that confident, that self-assured.
I know it’s something I’ll need to work on. You have to have that mask if you want to be a successful attorney.
And Iwillbe a successful attorney, even if I secretly feel like a faker. Never let them see me sweat.
Because not only is my drive to succeed fueled by my desire to make a life for myself, and to honor my mother and sister’s memory, it’s also fueled by one very simple motivator.
Revenge.
Chapter Eight
Now
With George seated at the table, and after finally getting myself under control, I need to locate Casey. I don’t know if she knew the motherfucker would be here tonight or not, although I have my suspicions.
I finally locate her out on the lanai and talking with one of the reporters.
