Page 126 of Dial L for Lawyer
"Every day. That's why I worked even harder. To stay ahead of you."
Silence stretches between us. Somewhere down the hall, a door slams.
"I started hating you," Maya says finally. "Not at first. At first, I worshipped you. But slowly, worship turned to resentment. Then anger. Then..." She gestures at her orange jumpsuit.
"All because you thought I was perfect?"
"It wasn't supposed to go this far. Victoria at Radiance kept pushing, kept saying I deserved recognition. That I was special." Her voice cracks. "I wanted to believe her. I wanted to be more than just another assistant."
"You were never just an assistant."
"But I felt like one. Next to you, I felt small. Ordinary. Forgettable."
"Maya—"
"The worst part?" She interrupts. "Sometimes I'd catch you when you thought no one was looking. Slumped at your desk. Staring at nothing in the elevator. But I ignored it because it was easier to hate the perfect version."
"We're all fighting battles no one sees."
"Yours were just hidden better." She wipes her face roughly. "God, we're both such idiots. You, for thinking you had to be perfect. Me, for believing you were."
"What a pair we make."
"Made," she corrects. "Past tense. I ruined everything."
I want to disagree, but she's right. Some things can't be undone. She's looking at serious jail time—two to five years if she takes the plea deal, David said. More if she fights it and loses.
"For what it's worth," I say, standing to leave, "you would have been brilliant. On your own merit. Without trying to be me."
"Can I ask you something?"
“Of course,” I turn back.
“The guy. Your lawyer. How’d you get him to represent you on this? I looked up his firm and those fees are astronomical. I ended up hiring a guy who smells like old coffee and disappointment." A dry, humorless laugh escapes her. "How did you get the best lawyer in the city?"
I hesitate. How do I explain Caleb? That he saw me, wanted me, and used my desperation as an excuse to get close? That our arrangement is a mess of ethics and emotion?
"We have history. It's complicated," I say, the words feeling thin and inadequate.
"Right." A flicker of the old resentment crosses her face. "So you’re sleeping with him."
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” she says, her voice flat, dead. “It’s the only explanation. It’s always the explanation for women like you. The ones who get everything.”
The insult lands with a dull thud. Not because it hurts, but because it’s so profoundly, stupidly wrong. She sees a transaction, a shortcut. She doesn’t see the terror, the surrender, the man who held me together when I was falling apart.
“Women like me?” I push my chair back, the legs screaming against the concrete. “You have no idea who I am, Maya. You never did.”
The guard appears at the door. “Time.”
I don’t look back as I walk out. There’s nothing left to say. We were never rivals. We were just two women staring at a funhouse mirror, hating a distorted version of the other while our own reflections were cracking behind us.
Caleb's waiting in the lobby, and I collapse against him the moment I see him. He smells like safety and expensive cologne and home.
"How was it?"
"Awful. Necessary. Eye-opening." I pull back to look at him. "She thought I was perfect."
