“No,” Jackson growls “And we’ve talked about this.”
I have to purse my lips together to stop them from twitching. He and I might not have any boundaries, but his mother’s dating life is a completely different story. The fact that there’s only a sixteen-year age gap has led to a lot more openness as we’ve gotten older, and a lot more discomfort on Jackson’s part.
“Oh my god, Jackson. I just realized who you remind me of with this whole shaved head and beard thing,” Steph says excitedly. “Oscar Isaac in that weird movie with the robots.”
I can’t help my face from screwing up in incredulity as I take a step back to scrutinize Jackson. Oscar Isaac? I don’t think so. Oscar Isaac is hot. Jackson’s…Jackson. “Yeah, I don’t see it,” I say with a shake of my head. “No offense, Jax.”
Jackson rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m devastated you don’t think I look like a creepy billionaire who fucks AI.”
“Well I do,” Steph says with a smirk. “Just stay away from all the computers and stuff, please, babe. You know…so I don’t worry.”
Jackson shakes his head in exasperation while I let out a bark of laughter.
* * *
If you’d askedme a few months ago where I’d be spending my first year out of law school, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a beat before answering, “Campbell Nixon.” It’s one of the most prestigious firms in New York, and I’ve been working there part time as a paralegal for the past couple years while I finished up my studies. Oh, and Charlie Campbell—one of the name partners—is one of my buddies from the amateur rugby team I play on with Jackson and Deac. So nepotism for the win.
But then Tanner—Deacon’s billionaire boyfriend—suggested it’d be good for me to branch out and get some experience outside my usual sphere, and offered to introduce me to his own lawyer, Leona Fisher. I was hesitant at first, but ultimately decided to take the advice. With one slight alteration: I sent my application through just like any other first year would. I figured there wasn’t much point stepping out on my own if I were just going to have the job handed to me. Tanner still put a word in, but it’s not as though other graduates didn’t have their own referees calling contacts at various law firms across the city on their behalf. That’s just the way it works.
So I’m now a first year associate at Reyes Carter Loeb, where Leona is a junior partner. Charlie wasn’t exactly thrilled—evidently he and Leona have a long and acrimonious history—but he wants me to be the best lawyer I can be, and apparently if that meanstemporarilysacrificing me to the “she-devil” he’ll get on board.
I let out a deep breath as I step off the elevator onto the thirty-second floor of the firm’s Lexington Avenue office building. I’m only a few blocks away from Charlie’s building, so my day really hasn’t felt all that new and different so far. But now that I’m walking through the unfamiliar reception area and approaching the desk with the stranger sitting behind it, I’m definitely starting to feel those first day nerves kick in.
I hover a little awkwardly about ten feet away from the desk, waiting for the receptionist to finish up a conversation with a young woman who’s currently propped casually against the desk, sipping a coffee.
“Oh my god, I didn’t need to hear that, Becca!” the woman groans, running a frustrated hand through her long brown hair. “Do you know how long it took to get that fucking stuffy out of the toilet? And then, of course, he still wanted to sleep with it afterward. I’m like, “no, devil child, you do not get to keep the stuffed bear you drowned in the toilet!””
“Aww, the poor thing,” Becca, the receptionist, says. “A kid needs a stuffy, Cait.”
“Well, Miller is now his new stuffy,” the woman—Cait, I guess—says. “On the bright side, Dylan can’t throw him in the toilet. But it’s really put a kink in our sex life.”
“Lucky for you, you’ve got a spare,” Becca says with a grin.
“Umm…sorry to interrupt,” I finally say after determining that this conversation is in no way related to work.
Both women glance up at my interruption, staring wide-eyed as though they hadn’t expected to see anyone at the front reception desk of one of Manhattan’s top law firms.
“Were you just standing there eavesdropping?” Cait asks, green eyes narrowed in suspicion.
I arch an eyebrow at her. “I was waiting patiently. You were the one talking about your sex life for the whole reception area to hear.”
“Who are you here to see?” Becca asks with a smile.
“I’m Skyler Mason. I’m—”
“Oh, shit—you’re one of mine,” Cait says, downing the rest of her coffee and shooting it into the trash bin like an NBA pro. “Okay, come on baby lawyer,” she says with a gesture to me, then strides off in the direction of the interior offices.
I hesitate for a moment. “Wait—what?”
“Good luck,” Becca says, waving me away.
Um. Great. That was helpful.
At a loss of what else I should do, I hurry to catch up to the brash, dismissive girl who claims I’m “one of hers.”
“Um, what’s going on right now?” I ask her. “Where are we going?”
“Jesus, I figured you’d have to be smart to graduate second in your class,” she mutters. “Especially at Columbia.”
