Page 59 of Behind Frenemy Lines

The advice note was in good shape, but there was still some work to do before we’d be able to get it off to the client. Fortunately we’d committed to sending it to him by the end of the day—not“close of business,” which everyone knows means the end of the working day for normal people, so six p.m. at latest. “End of day” gave us all the hours of darkness to work with: so long as the note was on the client’s desk by the next morning, we were good.

“I’m heading down to the canteen,” I said. My shoulders were stiff, and the back of my neck ached. I stretched, rolling my shoulders and cracking my neck. “Want me to pick something up for you?”

Charles didn’t answer straight away. I looked over and he was staring at me, his mouth half-open. He looked like he knew precisely what he’d like to bite into.

He turned back to his computer, his face bright red. “Sorry, I didn’t catch what you said.”

I closed an open notebook on my desk and straightenedit, so as to have something to do. “I was saying, do you want anything from the canteen? I’m going to grab dinner before it closes.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go get something myself after I send this email,” said Charles. “Thanks.”

“I can wait.”

“No, no,” said Charles, earnestly. “This will take a while. Don’t let me keep you.”

He was clearly desperate for me to go. I went.

He really likes you,said Loretta’s voice in my head.

“Oh shut up,” I said out loud, making the other tired lawyer in the lift jump. “Sorry. Talking to myself.”

She looked worried, but not as worried as I knew I should be.

It had been an intense few days, but they’d been enjoyable, in a way. The work was interesting, and working so closely with Charles had been fun. I’d already known he was a good lawyer. This case had proved we were surprisingly compatible.

As colleagues. I did not need to be wondering if we were compatible in any other ways, when I shared an office with the guy. And when my boss of eight years was going through it, and I was starting to suspect I needed to reconsider my entire career.

I needed to get my head sorted.Notany body parts south from there, no matter how insistent they were being about their needs.

I’d been planning to get takeaway—the sooner I was back at my desk, the sooner we could hammer out the draft, and the sooner we could go home. But it was so nice being somewhere other than my office, even if it was merely the firm canteen, that I decided to eat there.

I had sausage pasta, transparently made using leftovers from the posh bangers and mash served at lunch, and scrolled idly on my phone. Zuri had messaged in the afternoon, in our uni friends WhatsApp group (currently named “Milo Dinosaurs”):

Still on for nasi lemak at Kriya’s place tomorrow? @Kriya Going Chinatown later to buy ingredients, you want anything?

May Yin and Esther had confirmed. Sze Kim, Harminder, and Reuben weren’t going to make it.

I’d forgotten I was hosting the cookout, but that was fine. We’d get the note out this evening, so I wasn’t going to be working the next day. I’d have the morning to tidy up the flat before people started arriving.

I typed:

Thanks for buying @Zuri. I got rice and santan so don’t need to bring ok. Looking forward to it!

When I got back to the office, Charles was gazing thoughtfully at his phone.

“Has there been anything else from Ellie?” I said. The Reputation Management partner had reviewed our working draft of the note earlier that day and flagged a line of recent case law that undermined one of our arguments, necessitating some hasty research and redrafting.

Charles blinked like he was stirring from a doze. “No.” He put his phone down on his desk, exhaling. “I got a call from the company that manages my building. Apparently a pipe burst in the flat above mine. The ceiling of my bedroom’s collapsed.”

“Oh shit. Is your stuff OK?”

Charles took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “It’s not looking good. I’ll have to see what the damage is tomorrow. I’ve got insurance, but you’d think the management company would take responsibility. They’ve sorted the pipes and stopped the flooding, but they’re saying I can’t go back tonight. My room’s not habitable.”

He winced as a fresh thought struck him. “Loretta’s anime things!” He put his glasses back on and grabbed his phone. “I don’t know if her room’s affected. They only sent me photos of my bedroom. She’d be gutted if anything happened to her collection.”

Poor Charles, he really was having a mare. “Are they going to cover the cost of a hotel? You definitely shouldn’t have to pay for that.”

Charles was distracted, presumably texting his building manager an urgent demand to recover Loretta’s anime things, whatever they were.

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