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The client rep—Kendra—steps forward. “You can stay.”
“No, he can’t. He’s off this matter.”
She glares at Terrill. “What? You made no mention of a staffing change. And we need attorneys, since we’re prepared to litigate if we can’t resolve Julian Hill’s matter out of court.”
My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. My knees buckle, and I have to clutch the doorframe for support. I can feel all the blood drain from my face.
Kendra narrows her eyes. “Are you okay?” she asks.
“I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t do this. I’m recused.”
“Why?” Kendra asks.
I turn to her. “I have a conflict of interest. I’ve been dating Julian Hill.”
Terrill waves a hand. “We took him off the case. We just hadn’t sent you notice yet. I’ll get someone else to do the demand letter.”
Kendra’s hands fly to her hips, and she whips around to face Terrill. “Are you serious?” she says in a low voice. “You’re just going to drop this bombshell of how your associate was screwing our artist and wave it off as nothing?”
He makes a placating gesture. “Now, calm down. Sam did nothing wrong.”
“I didn’t,” I say, and I know I’m pleading. “I didn’t have sexual relations with him until after he turned in the recording. Before that, I was just helping him to write it.”
“Well, the executive team isn’t satisfied with the album at all. They don’t want to release it because it isn’t marketable. And now it looks like we need to investigate what happened. This is extremely unprofessional.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, so embarrassed I want to crawl out of my skin. “I thought my recusal had been communicated to you.”
“Why didn’t you disclose this?” she asks Terrill. “As the managing partner, you had a duty to tell us if a conflict arose.”
His grin overstays its welcome. “Press of business. My apologies. There’s nothing to worry about. We can handle this.” He holds out his hand to her.
But she’s typing furiously on her phone. “Um, no. You can’t. I’m going to recommend we take our business to a different law firm.”
No. No, no, no.
While Terrill is an asshole, I didn’t want to lose the client.
She storms out.
I hold up my hands. “Before you say anything, I quit. I’ll turn in my badge.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” he says, rage barely contained. “We’ll deal with you later.”
Fuckity. Fuck.
I turn and run.
* * *
“You didwhat?” my mother screeches.
I’m on the phone, pacing around my living room, twisting the skull ring on my finger. Julian’s ring. It’s giving me some comfort, but I’m still a wreck.
“I got photographed with Julian Hill,” I repeat.
And I quit my job. The one that I spent my entire life working toward. I only hope I can beg my way into a job at Weston & Ramirez and don’t end up working god knows where.
“When we specifically told you not to.”
