“What!” the woman lawyer Jan on the other side of the table leapt to her feet. “That’s outrageous!” She had a South Boston accent so strong that she dropped her R’s entirely, turning that last word into outwageous. Her blond bun flopped on her head and threatened to fall apart. “I will never let her sign that!”
“As well you shouldn’t,” Rox told her. “We’ve begun to discuss the clause with the studio’s attorney, Monty Evans. Unfortunately, he stonewalled, and then one of our partners was in a major car accident that afternoon.”
Watson’s team murmured to each other, real quiet-like, far too low for Rox to hear.
When she glanced at Wren, the other woman was looking back at her, one eyebrow cocked down. Her knife-edge eyeliner perfectly delineated her eyes, tilted from her Chinese ancestors, and accentuated just how confused she was.
Jan finally looked up at Rox. “Had the other driver been drinking?”
“Nope. Blew a flat line on the breathalyzer. He was cited for changing lanes without a blinker, but it was just an accident. He had really good insurance, though.”
In Rox’s ear, Cash whispered, “Don’t tell them anything else.”
Jan frowned harder. “Really.” Weally.
There wasn’t a question mark at the end of Jan’s comment at all.
Rox said, “Yeah.”
Jan turned and leaned on her elbows. “Is he all right?”
She said, “He was hurt pretty badly.”
Cash hissed, “Rox!”
“But he’s alive,” Jan said, confirming that.
“Yeah.”
Jan sat back. “You heard about Pym over at Pym, Copeland, Jackson, and Garcia, right?”
“Yeah.” When his car had gone over a rail and exploded a year ago, they’d identified the charred skeleton from his dental work. “I guess it’s just Copeland, Jackson, and Garcia now.”
Jan said, “He was butting heads with Monty Evans on a weird contract clause. A sober driver with good insurance got a stupid little citation because it was just an accident.”
Cold sweat popped on Rox’s back. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
In her ear, Cash whispered, “I’m sure it’s not related.”
Rox said, “Um, I suppose we need to get back to this.”
In her ear, Cash whispered, “It’s a coincidence. That was a year ago. Monty has negotiated dozens, if not hundreds, of contracts for the studio in the meantime.”
Rox bit her lip and typed, K.
In another hour, she had convinced herself that it was just an accident, that it was stupid to be paranoid. Movie studios didn’t kill people. They sued them. Lawsuits were far more destructive than killing someone, which was quick and easy compared to what industry lawyers could do to a person.
For four more hours, with occasional bathroom and coffee breaks, Cash spoke, and Rox repeated the legalese.
The whole time, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was standing right behind her, his arms around her and his lips near her neck, whispering in her ear.
CASIMIR DE BERGERAC
Casimir lay on the couch in the media room with his laptop resting on his stomach and Rox’s three cats surrounding him, whispering into the Bluetooth to cue Rox while she was in the meeting with Watson’s lawyers and accountants.
Yes, he knew that he could hold the Bluetooth a little farther away from his mouth and speak normally.
He whispered, “Tell them: this contract includes standard work ethic clauses, which Watson has never had trouble meeting, so we didn’t quibble on those. Communication is key in the event of a personal or health emergency, and provisions for those are written in the usual manner.”
Rox typed, K.
Casimir scrolled to the next section of the contract, Amenities.
This part was easy. He could discuss it with his eyes closed, so he did.
Casimir imagined plush, succulent Rox in his arms, his nose buried in her hair and the scent of her lemony shampoo rising all around him, and he whispered, “Ms. Watson has asked for certain amenities, all of which are reasonable and standard, and those are outlined in this section.”
Her body would press against his, her curves soft against his hardness, and her skin smooth under his palms.
He didn’t worry that Pym’s accident last year might be connected to his own. In Los Angeles, car accidents happened every day. The only wonder was that he hadn’t been involved in one sooner.
“Let’s discuss amenities,” he whispered and sipped from the glass of wine on the table beside him.
JUNIOR PARTNERS AND PARALEGALS
Rox was walking out of the meeting, whispering with fretful, brooding Wren, when Josie grabbed Rox’s elbow and steered her into her office again.