Page 2 of Cerulean Truth (Sapere #1)

ONE

EMMA

I was staring at porn. Again. I had been staring at porn for at least ten hours straight the day before and there I was again, six hours in. Me—not touching—myself and porn.

Suppressing a yawn, I took another nip from my not-so-hot anymore cup of coffee.

From the neighboring cubicle, I could hear Jason the Dick also yawning, though it appeared he was re-s(n)orting to other substances than caffeine to stay awake. I tried to skip the judgement, but failed.

The three guys on my screen were shooting their uhm... “white surprise” on the face of a blonde girl, which was indicating the end of the last viewing. Finally.

I took a deep breath and looked at the remaining stack of files on my desk. I grabbed the list on top and sighed once again. So much more porn to watch.

Jason leaned into my cubicle and flashed me a "dirty" grin. “Feeling like losing your virginity already?”

I squinted at my screen, faking (pun intended) I had stumbled upon something genuinely fascinating—other than multiple dicks waving around of course.

I made a concerted effort to ignore both him and his foolish comments—which was starting to become a daily routine.

Why, out of everyone, did they have to assign him to the same project?

“I’ve gone through the first fifteen,” he boasted, provoking my usual immediate irritation.

Not because he was uttering inappropriate comments about my—non-existing—virginity but because he was clearly going through the assignment a lot faster than I was, and also because his nasal voice was as annoying as his uninspiring personality.

Jason was a major egotistical cokehead, who’d decided that earning money was more important than developing an actual personality.

He had overly gelled hair and an unhealthy motivation to “score” as many women as possible while high on coke.

Which is why the office called him “Moby” behind his back.

As in Moby Dick, as in on the permanent hunt for white stuff…

with the term “dick” serving as an apt resonance.

It made sense at the time. We might have been drunk at the time.

But he was also seriously ambitious and my biggest competition for the highly coveted associate position.

At the end of summer, one of the senior lawyers would select only one intern, and for me, securing that position was imperative.

Finishing my “porn-related-report” before Moby would go a long way to influence Simon or Bill in selecting me for the job.

“Good for you,” I replied dryly, mumbling, “Moby,” to his back when he turned away.

I hadn’t even completed the review of the first ten. How the heck had he managed to watch fifteen of them already? We had been explicitly instructed not to fast forward, and each film had a runtime of at least an hour. At this rate, I was going to have to stay the night…

Cursing him in silence, I tried to remind myself why I was even doing the assignment, which was harder to do after spending two days straight sifting through porn within the confines of a cramped cubicle.

However, I was compelled to keep my eyes on the prize. Despite my relatively brief tenure of almost two weeks at this particular internship, I possessed an unwavering conviction that this law firm represented the path to my future—at least for the next decade.

Hence, my awesome task of sifting through hours and hours of porn, not because my personal life needed some extra spice—to be honest, it did, though watching porn wasn’t going to fix that—but because one of the clients was facing allegations of involving a minor in one of her adult films, and we had to verify every face in every movie she ever produced.

Which was rather challenging since the camera usually doesn’t really focus on faces…

I briefly glanced at the carefully arranged photographs beside my computer, hoping they’d provide me with some much-needed motivation: One of them featured my parents, beaming down at me during my childhood, their love and unwavering support evident.

The second one portrayed each of them succeeding at only twenty-one years old in their respective fields. Oh yes, my dad won a Nobel prize for some scientific breakthrough at twenty-one and my mom shook hands with Nelson Mandela as a twenty-year-old humanitarian volunteer.

Meanwhile, I was a twenty-three-year-old virgin lookalike—apparently—hadn’t finished law school yet and was only on my third internship of the year in a prestigious law firm, where I was spending my days watching porn…

none of which were earning me either prestigious awards or earth-shattering org—handshakes.

I really wanted my parents to be proud of me. Of course they loved me unconditionally and all, but they were both like Mensa-smart and Mandela-ambitious. To say the shadows they casted were long, would be an understatement.

“Hey Emma,” Moby Dick’s big head reappeared, and I sighed.

“What now?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“Did I tell you how I just got back from the most fabulous weekend in Vail? The skiing, the chalet, the whole experience—it was truly extraordinary.”

I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Oh, how wonderful for you, Jason. Another expensive getaway you can later write about in your inevitable autobiography.”

Moby chuckled, clearly pleased with himself—and failing at grasping the basic concept of sarcasm.

“Well, you know, I do believe in living life to the fullest. I work hard but I play even harder. Speaking of which, have you seen the watch I bought recently? It’s a limited edition, worth a President’s ransom. ”

I sighed, my frustration mounting. “Congratulations, you’ve managed to reduce your entire identity to your socio-economic situation. Had you ever read a book or two, you might’ve had something remotely interesting to say.”

Jason’s smug expression faltered as he furrowed his brow. “Books? Who needs books when you can have all this?” He gestured to his designer suit. I swallowed back some unprompted bile.

My tone turned cutting. “Can you at least spell ‘unfuckable,’ or did you just pose as a model for the concept and left it at that?”

Jason's face shifted through several shades of red, leaving him speechless for the first time since we'd met. My lips curled into a victorious smile as I’d finally silenced the idiot. Or maybe he simply struggled to grasp my jab, given the use of a few difficult words…

I rose from my seat and headed to the bathroom, phone in hand, ready to FaceTime Lisa, my closest friend.

She was a petite, stunning blonde who seemed oblivious to both her beauty and intelligence.

She dedicated an excessive amount of time fretting over others' opinions, and her communication skills, to put it gently, left much to be desired.

But beneath it all, she possessed a kind and nurturing heart, prioritizing others' well-being over her own.

“What’s up, babe?” she greeted me at the first ring.

“Trying to get rid of my daily annoyance,” I grunted back.

“Moby douching out his own insecurities again?” She rolled her eyes.

I glared at her in a way that conveyed all my irritation.

"Isn't there anyone else you can talk to? I mean, how many other lawyers are there anyway?" she asked, her brow furrowing.

I replied tentatively, "There are something like over three hundred lawyers and at least double in supporting staff..."

"So, why are you only socializing with the office's resident jerk?"

I hesitated for two seconds to tell her the truth.

"He's the only one who'll talk to me," I confessed, my voice tinged with shame.

"Oh, sweetie, you know that's all in your head, right? You are awesome, sweet, and, by the way, very pretty. It's simply…sometimes you come across a little...uh, firmer than you intend."

"Did you mean to say 'arrogant' but decided to soften it with 'firm'?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "You know very well what I mean. Now tell me more about your internship, but I swear, if you so much as mention Moby, I'll call him up and ask him out on a date for you."

Lisa had a real knack for setting me up on dates that made me lose the will to live so I launched into a quick description of the firm, detailing its fancy perks—a swanky fitness center on the penthouse floor and a restaurant which served stuff called broccolini—while raving about the coffee shop on the ground level, exclusively reserved for the lawyer elite.

“You and your caffeine.” She shook her head.

“Hey, don’t judge me,” I muttered. “Caffeine is probably the most legal addiction anyone’s pursuing in this building.”

Her raspy laughter was like a breath of fresh air, instantly lightening my mood.

I continued. "You know, I’m on my fifth internship, and this morning it dawned on me they're all basically the same. I mean, it’s like they’re all populated by identical individuals, highly skilled, but deep down, they're all just terrified."

“Terrified of what?” Lisa inquired.

"Of someone smarter or more useful strolling in and rendering them as relevant as broccolini," I explained.

Lisa chuckled. “Sounds like a charming crowd.”

I rolled my eyes. "This place is like a breeding ground for oversized egos and crippling self-doubt. Moby could be their poster child."

She laughed again. “So, what’s the place like? And please keep in mind you haven’t invited me over yet, even though you’ve been working there for almost two weeks, so leave out no detail.”

I smiled apologetically. “It’s this massive building on Boston’s Main Street.

You know the type, you’ve seen in lawyer movies—the big revolving glass doors and all.

Downstairs, there’s an army of security guards with very serious resting bitch faces who scrutinize anyone without the right ID—or boobs. ”

“How delightful.” She grinned. “What about the other people? The ones you work with directly?”