Just Be True To Me

“Someone’s here to see you.”

Checking her calendar, she said, “I didn’t have any appointments today.”

“This guy doesn’t seem like he makes appointments.”

“Clifford Knight.” She chuckled. “Make him wait 15 minutes then send him back.”

“Playing hard to get, huh?”

She couldn’t help but laugh as she shooed him away. Pulling out her purse, she set each item that she pulled out into a line—deodorant, mirror, lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara. In addition, she pulled out a washcloth, which she wet using a water bottle. The process of going from normal woman to diva only took seven minutes. Examining her work in the mirror convinced her to change her shirt, which showed a fair amount of her cleavage.

Clifford’s voice boomed throughout the office. “If you had any inkling of who I am you would get out of my way.”

“Sir, she’s not ready for—

“I don’t care. I don’t have time to waste.”

The door slammed against the wall. Mia tripped over the desk’s legs, landing flat on her back. Too shocked too move, her exposed bre*sts remained out in the open. Her mouth fell open as she stared up at him. His smirk dissolved the trance. She covered herself with one arm, using the other to pull herself into a seated position. Concerned about his eyes, she managed to knock over everything other than the computer monitor as she pulled herself into her chair. Her words stumbled over one another. What she did want to say was cut short by explanations that did nothing but make the situation worse. Yanking her shirt off the hanger, in her angst to get it on, a massive rip separated the back.

His grin spread into a smile. “Need some help?”

“No.” She replaced the shirt with her blazer, buttoning all the buttons. The look was the same; her cleavage was still out. Her chest heaved as she pretended to type, her fingers shaking as they moved across the keys.

“You do know that’s not on, right?”

A sharp exhale caused her nostrils to flare. Her fingers slammed into the keys. Her eyes bounced from the black screen to his bright face and back. Soon, she started to see his face in the screen. As she continued to type, her embarrassment gave way to the need to protect her pride. She continued typing. And typing. And typing. Writing out the things that, as a professional, shouldn’t be said to a client. Despite her best efforts, the final word she typed was clear. She typed it three times.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Mia pressed the enter key. She looked at him.

The minute changes in their facial expressions were indicative of the mental sparing match happening between. The raising of an eyebrow, the twitch of a lip, narrowing eyes, they were all return shots, some barely getting over the net—barely getting their point across—others considered an ace. The battle continued for another five minutes, so intense that both players forgot that they had an audience.

“So…is everything good here? Does anyone need anything?”

“We’re good,” Clifford said. Again, his eyebrow ascended. “Right Mia?”

Her nod was slight.

“You know where to find me.”

Clifford remained standing after the door closed. His gaze traveled up and down her body. His smirk returned. “I didn’t think I had that effect on you.” Pulling the chair out, he kept his hand on the back. “May I sit?”

“No.”

His lips separated. His eyes opening a bit wider.

“That’s a joke.” She rested her forearms on the desk, the edge pressing into her bre*sts. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence this beautiful warm day?”

“Don’t do that,” he said. After retrieving his wallet from his back pocket, he crossed one leg over the other. Pulling out a business card, he began digging under his nails. “Don’t act like it didn’t happen. Denial brings about a man’s fall.”

“I’m not a man.”

He raised his eyes. “An individual.”

“While I appreciate the advice, you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?” Noticing where his eyes were lingering, she wiggled her shoulders, the attempt to reposition the blazer only bringing more attention to her chest. “I can’t do this.” Mia pushed her chair back. She ignored his laugh as she wrestled her shirt from where it was stuck on the wheels. Her head remained high as she unbuttoned her shirt and slipped into the other one. After fastening two buttons, she stopped. “You’ve been with models and actresses, I’m sure you’re not attracted to a normal woman like me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Sitting, she left the shirt to hang as it might. “Dead serious.”

“You’re not normal.”

Propping her feet up, she asked, “Now tell me, Mr. Knight, why are you here?”

Clifford stopped cleaning his nails and uncrossed his legs. He tossed the card on the desk, the upper left corner stained with a dark substance, a subtle crease causing it to stand. He cleared his throat. He mentioned her request. “You never called me back.”

Mia pulled her sleeve back. “It’s only been 36 hours.”

“36 hours I’ve been waiting. If you’re going to work for me—”

“With you,” she said.

“Excuse me.”

“I don’t work for you. I’m not an associate. I’m a partner of this firm, which means I don’t work for anyone. It was my decision to take you on. And if you want to continue working with me then you’ll remember that.” She leaned forward. “I am your partner, not your employee. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes. We do.”

“Okay.”

He chuckled, picking up the business card and forcing the tip underneath his thumb nail again. “Why did you request my presence? Partner.”

“I uh, wanted to talk to you about the case.” She pulled her briefcase into her lap.

“Obviously.”

“I“ —she cursed under her breath as her zipper got stuck—“want to know how your previous lawyers conducted themselves.” Giving the zipper a hearty tug, her hand slipped, flying against her mouth. The curses that followed were muffled as she sucked the blood off her lip. Attempting to rip a tissue from the box, the box flew across the room, crashing into the wall. Her shoulders rose and fell as she breathed. Clasping her hands, she rested her chin on them, her bruised pride causing her throat to itch. “Would you mind coming back another time? I’m, I’m—”

“Discombobulated?”

“No. I’m just—”

“Unprepared,” he said.

“No.” Standing, she buttoned her shirt and rolled up her sleeves. “I’m not my best self and I don’t want you thinking you have an advantage over me.” She cracked the door.

Clifford, standing five inches taller than her, looked down at her, the right side of his mouth perched in its infamous arrogant stance. “The only way I would have an advantage over you, Ms. Bishop, is if you were my employee. I’m more than sure you made the specific point that you and I are partners. Am I confused?”

She was the first to break the stare. “No.”

He craned his neck down. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I said no.” Though she looked back at him, the conviction was missing from her voice. “We’re partners. I’ll call you when—”

“No, I’ll call you.” His shoulder brushed against hers as he stepped around her. Stepping into the main area, as a show of his superiority, he offered to buy everyone lunch. Cheers and applause reigned down on him as he made his exit. Just before walking out the doors, he looked back.

It was the first time that she had seen his teeth.