Page 100 of Ghostly
If he went down, he wouldn’t do so dressed in some boring suit.
In the wide open space of his apartment, he grabbed a cup of coffee and crossed to the window. Early morning light reflected on the glass of nearby skyscrapers, painting their facades in shades of blue, intercepted by blinding strips of orange. He closed his eyes and chased away a pale, oval-shaped face with big, deep brown eyes.
You told me to go. You said it was better.
Time to get back to work.
Little had changed in the firm. The floor was still the same old polished tigerwood, mixed with strips of white tiles. A path of round ceiling lights— unflickering, not even blinking once—led Gabriel through the hallways of glass-wall offices, eyes following him as he passed. By the common area, a group of five paralegals lingered, plastic coffee cups in hand; they hushed as Gabriel approached, gave him a mix of reluctant smiles and scared greetings, and started whispering again.
Another lawyer stepped out of his office as Gabriel passed by.
“Rodriguez,” Gabriel greeted.
Rodriguez looked at him as if he’d suddenly gotten a bad case of indigestion.
“Great to see you,” Gabriel continued as it became clear no response would come from the man, and continued toward his office, head held high. Thank god his office didn’t have glass walls; he wasn’t sure he could bear becoming the floor centerpiece.
Finally, he made it to his safe haven. There’d been some rearranging to his desk—Ollie, no doubt—but otherwise, it looked the same. A tasteful gray rug, shelves filled with books that would assure any incoming client the lawyers in this firm knew what they were doing, and a baby rubber plant on the shelf behind him to add a homey feeling. Gabriel’s diploma, and three more certificates showcasing his achievements, hung on the wall.
No notice of termination in bold, red letters rested on his desk, but that didn’t make Gabriel any less nervous. He’d only exchanged seven emails with his bosses, three of which were to deal with his suspension being lifted. Of the other four, two hinted, in all of their tweet-length glory, that Gabriel might get some papers served soon—but not those for a partnership.
After a short knock, the door creaked open. Gabriel braced himself for scrutiny when the wildly curly head of his assistant peeked through. “Mr. Vane! I’m so glad you’re back!”
“Ollie. Nice to see you.”
Ollie walked in, smile wide, foot only lightly tapping.Tap, tap. Tap.“I, sir, uh… I missed you.” He made another step forward, and a very awkward hug followed. Gabriel clasped his back, and at last, Ollie retreated.
“It’s good to see one friendly face, at least,” Gabriel said. Something about Ollie reminded him of the people in Buttons, and while the memory hurt, Ollie’s presence felt comforting. “How is it going?”
“I have everything prepared, sir. You’ll be ready to jump right in.” Ollie pushed up his glasses and scanned the desk. “These are the summaries of all the relevant briefings you’ve missed, so you can catch up. Here are the memos, in there is a list of messages, sorted first by date, then by alphabet, and here is a memorandum for—”
“Ollie.” Gabriel used his steadying tone. “Thank you for all of this. But…” His stomach roiled at the thought. “Ernest said I’m to meet him in ten minutes.”
“Why? Because—oh, no. Sir, don’t tell me you won’t be working here anymore! But I’ve already organized everything, and I know what kind of coffee you drink and that when you say you need something in five minutes, you really mean four minutes and fifty seconds, and—”
“Ollie!”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
Gabriel leaned on the desk and sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I put a black stain on all of you with my behavior.” How could it be that he seemed to make nothing but bad decisions? And then more bad decisions as he tried to fix the first ones? He wasn’t even sure what he was doing anymore, and where he was heading; events and consequences swam in his mind, loose and senseless, occasionally hitting the walls he tried to pull up, and making him wince.
“Anyway,” Ollie said, his look indicating he’d been waiting for Gabriel to pay attention. “Mr. Ernest is in a meeting with Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy at the moment.”
“She’s here already?” Gabriel’s chest squeezed.And they didn’t tell me.They were going to take the case from him. His one shot was going down the drain and… “Okay. Okay.” He stared at the documents on his desk and slowed his breathing—in, out, in, out.
Think clearly. What’s the best thing for the currentsituation?
News was leaking into the media about him and Wynona getting back together; with some luck and a few successful showings, maybe they’d swing the public’s opinion. But that wouldn’t be enough for Ernest and Clifford. Gabriel needed to make himself valuable.
He looked up. “Ollie, come with me. We’re going to Ernest.”
“But, sir, I said he’s—”
“I know.” The chances of success were small. Mrs. Ashford-Abernathy loved him when he was a star on the rise, but she’d probably snub him now. As for Ernest, he might throw him out of the firm just for crashing his meeting.
But he had to try. For Ida. Because if he failed again, if he didn’t even get this life back, then he’d left her for nothing.
Gabriel and Ollie rushed to the conference room. Gabriel paused in front of the door, fist up and ready to knock.
