Page 1 of Haunted Games

Abby

Isat up a little straighter in my chair and tried to smile. The older male partners seemed to find me more palatable when I smiled.

“I’ll admit, I’m a little surprised, Bob,” I said, trying for a light and unaffected shrug of my shoulder. “I’ve been back in the office for a few months now, and I have no plans to take leave again. This is a major deal, and I have the capacity to devote myself to it.”

Not to mention, I’ve been an outstanding associate attorney in this firm for over four years now, while he has been here for exactly six weeks.

Bob frowned down at his Blackberry. The firm had phased those out ten years ago, but a few of the boomers clung to their physical keyboards like toddlers did to their teddy bears.

“Yes, well,” he said distractedly, “Galen’s already been introduced to the client, and they just really got along great.

” He finally glanced up from his phone and gave me a half-apologetic look across his large mahogany desk, scratching at the white stubble on his face with blunt, chewed-down nails. “You understand how it is.”

I sure did. I’ve understood Galen’s ways since law school.

Except that back then, his ways didn’t cost me shared billing credit on a 500-million-dollar deal.

I stood up and smoothed my wide-legged trousers like they were fussy, starched dress slacks and not stretchy yoga-clothes material masquerading as work pants. “I won’t take any more of your time, then, Bob. I just hope that when the next deal comes in the door, you’ll think of me.”

He waved a hand, already back to squinting at his Blackberry. “Yes, sure.”

I stomped out of Bob’s corner office and into the hallway. The designer sneakers I’d spent a chunk of my summer bonus on made for excellent stomping, and I could only hope Galen felt my approach like a man stranded in Jurassic Park with a T-Rex on the loose.

As I stalked past Jana and Ariel, the legal assistants seated in the bays outside the associate hallway, they exchanged identical smirks. They knew exactly what kind of storm was brewing.

I didn’t even have to go all the way to Galen’s office. Instead, I ran right into him as he sauntered out of the break room, steaming mug of fucking green tea in his hand.

“You,” I growled as I stepped right into his path.

“Woah there, Crossbar,” he said, raising his free hand in surrender while using the nickname he’d given me in law school that I despised, “what’s got your plain and sensible panties in a bunch?”

I craned my neck to give him my coldest stare.

I was nearly five-foot-eleven in my chunky sneakers, but this bastard had the nerve to be over six-four in his stupid loafers.

“You know what you did. Does Project Great White ring a bell? Or are you just drowning in all the best deals right now that you can’t keep them straight? ”

He sipped his tea like an asshole, looking thoughtful. “Oh, Bob’s thing. What about it?”

I took a step closer and jammed my finger into his chest, which had the nerve to be broad and perfectly snug behind his wrinkle-free dress shirt.

“That deal was mine. I was on the pitch team. I helped bring that client in the door while you were still off drafting esoteric opinions for the federal bench in your ivory tower in DC.”

He grinned like it was his birthday as he slowly and deliberately removed my hand from his chest, pinched between fingers that were surprisingly calloused for an office-dwelling cretin.

“It appears you did a wonderful job, then. Congratulations. Given this deal’s size, I’m certain there will be mountains of work to go around.

Your billable targets are safe, Abigail. ”

And there he went, using my full name while knowing full well I also hated that. “You know that’s not what this is about. They only give shared credit on the file to the lead associate.”

His smile dimmed, but only slightly, and then he shrugged, looking me up and down from behind the stylish glasses he wore that took his aesthetic from “affable jock” to “serious professional.” He raked a hand through his thick dark hair.

“Ah, yeah, well… you know how Bob is. You kind of have to be the last face he saw in the hallway for him to remember your name, much less the work you did for him nine months ago. And he’s just throwing a bone to the new guy, I’m sure. ”

Yeah, the new guy and every other guy on this floor.

I blew out a frustrated breath and stepped away from him.

This was pointless—he didn’t care that he’d just become one more obstacle in my path to making partner.

And why should he? No one in their right mind would’ve given up the lead on this deal.

Not if they cared even a little bit about advancing in this firm.

“Oh, come on, Abigail—”

I turned on my heel and continued my T-Rex stomp down to my office.

Before I shut my door with slightly more force than was necessary, I caught the sounds of one of the other senior partners slapping Galen on the shoulder and asking him what he thought of the final moments of last night’s NFL game.

My phone buzzed where it lay on my desk, tucked under one of my two computer screens.

MICHAEL

Come on, baby, you have to talk to me sometime.

I sure the fuck did not.

Buzz.

I just got into town for the arbitration, and I’ll be here for a few weeks. You can take time out of your busy schedule to meet me for coffee or something. You owe me at least that.

I picked up my phone and jabbed angry thumbs onto the screen.

I don’t owe you a goddamned thing, you lying cheating piece of shit.

Then I deleted it.

When it came to my ex, I’d maintained a solid three months of icy silence, and I wasn’t about to break my streak now.

If I had, I could’ve blamed Galen for inflaming me, but the man had already ruined my day enough.

I should’ve seen the writing on the wall with Michael long ago.

We’d met in law school and had been dating since our second year.

I’d been what I’d charitably call a very late bloomer, and while I’d had a lot of friends from my intramural soccer team and my academic sorority in college, my dating life had been sparse.

I’d finally grown a bit into my body and my confidence by the time I got to law school, and the fact that someone like Michael noticed me had been one of the thrills of my young adult life.

He was attractive, intelligent, and talented, especially in the courtroom.

I’d gravitated more toward legal writing and the transactional side of the law, never desiring the litigator’s life, so we’d fit together like a cute little yin and yang charm.

Different student bar associations, different extracurriculars, but a shared professional drive (and a love of soccer and fancy coffee).

When I didn’t get my dream internship at a national firm in DC, I’d been mostly content to take a job in closer to home in Dallas.

Michael had scored a great job in Houston, and far be it from me to stand in his way.

We’d been long distance for four years, both so busy that neither of us really complained about it.

And then, earlier this year, my mom had been diagnosed with breast cancer.

My dad wasn’t in the picture, and my brother was mired in his oral surgery residency.

I’d taken a full twelve-week medical leave to care for Mom during chemo, and she was now—thank all the deities ever worshipped by humans—in remission.

During my leave, my brother was able to get away to stay with Mom for a long weekend. I used that time to drive to Houston to surprise Michael. We hadn’t seen each other in nearly four months.

When one of his coworkers answered the door to his condo wearing one of his shirts and nothing else because she thought I was the DoorDash order, I’d skipped every stage of grief and gone straight to numb.

The anger didn’t really rear its ugly head until all the bullshit text messages and voicemails that came after.

What did you expect? You never have time to visit me.

It didn’t mean anything. She was a passing amusement.

If you transfer to a firm here, we could actually make a go at being a real couple.

Not one of them had contained an apology.

Really, the single life agreed with me. It didn’t feel much different than before, except I no longer had this vague feeling of guilt lingering in the back of my brain that I was failing at being someone’s partner while I was doing my best to succeed in my career.

And my new vibrator got me off better than Michael ever did.

Buzz.

I snatched my phone, preparing to rage-power-off, but then I saw it was a text from one of my best friends from law school.

JULIA

Wanna grab drinks after work?

100%. They’ll need to be strong.

Oh? What did Hades do now?

Julia had named Galen after the god of the underworld because his family was Greek and he was always dragging me down. A real gnat in my Cheerios.

Most law school classes gave awards for the highest and second-highest grade in the class. I’d collected a few of the top grades, but in every single class where I’d been number two, Galen had been number one—and he never let me forget any of them.

Then he beat me out for Editor in Chief of the school’s Law Review, and the law bros in the class ahead of us had given the rest of the good Executive Board positions to his buddies.

I’d been tossed a conciliatory position as Secretary, and I’d have told them all where to shove that if it hadn’t been one more bullet to add to the resume.

And then Galen had been offered a summer internship, which then led to a permanent position, at my dream law firm in DC.

He’d hung around there for three years and then decided he would just hop on into another super prestigious position as a law clerk for the federal bench, where he spent the past year before he took this job.

If that wasn’t enough, Galen also had the audacity to be excellent at soccer.

I’d played in high school but had retired to intramural play by the time I got to college.

Galen had used his giant body to be a first-string goalkeeper at his fancy private college, so he was fresh off real NCAA play when he’d strutted onto the intramural fields in law school.

The final straw had been when we’d faced his team in the intramural finals, fall semester of my third year.

We’d battled to a tie, and I’d been fouled in the box in the 90th minute.

There I was, me versus my nemesis, with a chance to sink a goal into Galen’s net and win the championship for my team (which came with absolutely nothing except bragging rights).

I’d lined up my shot and aimed for that sweet spot in the top right corner.

And I’d nailed the crossbar instead. We went on to lose in overtime.

Galen called me “Crossbar” for the rest of my law school career.

Oh nothing, just stole a huge deal out from under me.

That bastard. Want me to slash his tires?

Not a good look for a prosecutor.

I’ll get a good plea deal. I know people.

A few senior partners walked past my door, which I’d opened about an hour ago to avoid being seen as unapproachable.

4:30 on a Friday was an acceptable time for senior partners to skip out of here.

Bob was among them, a thick brown file folder tucked under his arm as he rattled on about his country club to Ken Johnson, head of the firm’s real estate group.

Bob, who’d apparently forgotten me even though I’d been an associate in this group for four years.

What he hadn’t forgotten was that I’d taken leave for three months, and whether it was consciously or not, it’d made him and the other partners gun-shy about assigning me work.

I’d been trying to crawl back onto the deals and projects I’d had to abandon when I was out, and it had been slow going.

Galen’s arrival as our exciting new lateral hire a mere two weeks after my return hadn’t helped things.

And speak of the devil.

Several male associates wandered by next, a couple of them congenial enough to shoot me a polite wave as they passed.

Galen, a head taller than the rest, was with them. He’d made fast friends with everyone. He met my gaze as he chatted animatedly to Brian McDonough, and the asshole winked at me.

I’ll meet you at Tito’s at 5:30. If you beat me there, make sure my margarita is a double.

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