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Rad

“What do you mean? Tealey is moving to Texas? ”

“She was, but you stepped in to help her. Thank God. I don’t know how I’d survive this city without her.”

The sound of the pounding in my chest reaches my ears. “Slow down, back up, and say that again.”

“I. Don’t. Know. How. I’d. Survive?—”

“Not that part,” I snap, my irritation getting the better of me. “Before that.”

“Tealey moving to Texas?”

I nod. “What do you mean she’s moving?”

“What do you mean what do I mean?” She swirls her hand in the air like we’re playing a game of charades. “It’s when you load a car or truck full of your belongings?—”

“Not funny.”

I shake my head in disbelief that Tealey would move away and not tell me. She was just here. Why wouldn’t she say something?

“Are you okay, Rad?”

“Yeah. Just confused. She was just here and didn’t say?—”

“I wasn’t supposed to either, but since she told you, it’s fair game to discuss.” She pauses and blinks. “Wait, she didn’t say what?”

The pit of my stomach grows heavier, and I swallow. “She didn’t tell me she was moving.”

Jolting her neck back, she shakes her head. “What do you mean?”

“It’s when you don’t reveal?—”

“ Ha-ha.”

I shift, the chair squeaking in protest. Why does it sting that she didn’t tell me—especially when she had the opportunity?

My mind races. Does she need help, or is something else going on?

Is she moving for work? Is this move set in stone?

Is that why she wanted to make sure Misty’s case was being handled by someone she trusts?

Because she won’t be here to see it through?

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but since you know . . .” Marlow flops into the chair, concern etched on her face. Despite Marlow’s dramatics, she’s caring at her core. She says, “You need to convince her to stay.” No shit.

“How?”

“I can’t share too much—” She sits forward. “Talk to her one-on-one and see what you can get out of her. I don’t know why she’s keeping it a secret from everyone. She didn’t even tell Cammie. She can’t leave us. Is there even an us without her?”

All valid points. “Why would she tell me the reason she’s leaving if she won’t tell you?”

“Oh, she told me.” She flips her hair behind her shoulder. “I just wasn't really listening. I mean, how was I supposed to when the perfect pale-pink Birkin crossed in front of my eyes while we were at the bistro on 5th?”

Frustration creeps up my spine. “You weren’t listening? Your best friend was telling you—forget it.” Why am I not surprised that Marlow wasn't listening when her friend was talking? I know. We all know. Unless it’s about Marlow, she’s oblivious.

“She said something about a week.”

“So talk to her again and get the details this time.”

“Then she’ll know I wasn’t listening, and as you know, I’ve been accused of being a bad listener before. Not by her because she’s too nice to say that, but by others.”

Fucking hell. I take a deep breath to try to keep my cool. Me coming at Marlow in anger won’t fix the situation or cure her narcissism. “This is ridiculous. You know that, right?”

“Ridiculous is losing my best friend when we have a chance to stop that from happening. Will you talk to her? Yes or no?”

Of course, I’d be happy to . . . if I thought she wanted my help. But instead of asking for it, she asked me to help someone else. But that was typical of Tealey.

Clenching my jaw, I tick through her visit. I was listening, offered to help her case, and participated in the conversation, which is more than she can say for Marlow. Yet she told her.

Still, despite my frustration, no way can I watch her move across the damn country. No. Fuck that. “You know I will.”

“Great! I think the sooner, the better.”

“She'll be home tonight?”

“Yes. Cammie and I were supposed to go over and help her pack, but it sounds like she has it handled.”

“All right. I’ll stop by and check on her.” I glance at the file. “I need to drop something by her place anyway.”

“Good. Now let’s talk about me because I need to get going.”

Clicking on my schedule, I double-check the appointment time for my next client, hoping to avoid her drama. “What is it? I’m swamped today.”

Her hand lands on my file, her manicured nails tapping the papers. “I need a favor. An itsy, teeny, tiny favor.”

“No.”

She pouts. “I haven’t even asked yet. You’re in such a mood today.”

“I’m in a mood every day, so if you’ll excuse me.” Despite her tailored pink suit, she relaxes in the chair like the indulged daddy’s girl she is, apparently making herself at home.

“I thought you had to get going?” Marlow doesn’t take hints very well, but let’s pray she does today.

I need time to debrief the last few minutes before I walk into my next meeting. Usually, my post-Tealey ritual is to commit everything about her to memory.

Her pink-colored lips. An insight gleaned from our conversation. But today? Today, I’ll be trying to make sense of this moving mess.

“Radcliffe?” Marlow snaps her fingers, pulling me back to reality

“What?”

She sweeps her long hair off to one shoulder and then leans in. “I need a favor.”

Rolling my hand in the air, I encourage her to get to the point. “What is it?”

As if I have nothing better to do this afternoon, she opens a compact and eyes her brows, taking her time. Annoyance flickers in her eyes as she smooths a finger over it. “There.”

“I have a meeting with a client soon, sooo . . . ”

A smile rolls into place. “My dad is in town, and he wants us to join him for dinner tomorrow night.”

“What’s the catch?”

My desk phone rings. “Yes, Ashleigh?”

“Your next appointment is here,” my assistant says.

“I’ll be right there.” I hang up and stand, reaching for my jacket hooked on the wall. I mentally calculate how long this meeting will run and how soon I can get to Tealey’s for answers. “I need to go.”

Marlow takes her bag and slips it to the crook of her elbow as she walks toward the door. “So that’s a yes?”

“Sure. Fine.” Just fucking go.

“Thank you, Rad. I can always count on you.” She taps her Rolex before opening the door. “I have to run. My personal shopper is waiting. I’m already fifteen minutes late, so I’ll text you the details. Ciao, darling.”

Like a hurricane, she whips in here, destroys any plans I might have had, and races back out. I should protest, rushing to firmer ground to stand on, but she’s gone, leaving me just enough time to check my schedule. As if I didn’t have enough Marchés for the day . . . Speak of the devil.

I walk out, and Ashleigh flanks my side, handing me a file.

She gives me the rundown at the pace of our fast walk.

“Robert Marché. Movie producer with credits for three of the biggest films in the past five years. Net worth $350 million. Homes in Sun Valley, Los Angeles, Cabo San Lucas. A condo in Miami, and apartments in Manhattan and Paris. One daughter. Grown. Twen?—”

“Twenty-eight,” I fill in, “Robert Marché is Marlow’s father.”

With wide eyes, she asks, “Marlow, who just left Marlow?”

“The very one.”

“Oh. Wow. Does she know he’s getting a divorce?”

“After the conversation we just had, I’m thinking she doesn’t.”

Gripping a small laptop to her chest, she takes a deep breath just as we round the corner. “This should be interesting.”

Maybe that’s why he invited all of us to dinner tomorrow.

He’s going to tell her but wants her surrounded by her friends for support.

That makes sense. And more so, maybe being surrounded by friends will remind Tealey this is where she belongs.

We’re basically a dysfunctional family, but we’re family.

“My thoughts exactly.” I stop abruptly and lower my voice.

“She can’t find out from us. If she comes by for any reason, make sure we keep this under wraps. ”

“Yes, sir.”

I’ve told her a million times, but I tell her again, “It makes me feel like my dad when you call me sir.”

Ashleigh laughs but quickly quietens as a few eyes rise above the edges of the cubicles. “Unless the senior partners are around. It’s just a hard habit to break. Anyway, I’m hoping you’ll take me with you to the top when you make partner, and that means calling you sir, sir .”

“You’re my secret weapon. I’m not going anywhere without you.” I push through the conference room door. “Mr. Marché, it’s been too long.”

Bob is a big man. From his shoulders to his hands, he loves to intimidate others with his large build.

“Rad, you’re always welcome to get some sunshine in California.

” Patting my arm, he almost knocks me to the side with his hearty hits, but I stand my ground because he’s never intimidated me.

“Palm trees. Beautiful women. Blue skies and the ocean. You need to come out for a visit.”

“I do. But you’re here now. Marlow mentioned you were visiting, but I assumed for pleasure.” He’s gone completely gray since I last saw him with white taking over the hair around his ears. Too tan to be a New Yorker, he fits right in with the Hollywood elite.

I refer to my right-hand woman. “This is Ashleigh Walters, my assistant.”

“Hello,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Glancing at me, he lifts a brow. “I was hoping to speak to you alone.”

Ashleigh doesn’t need to be asked to leave but waits for me to confirm before exiting. I nod. “It’s fine.”

“I’ll be at my desk if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” When the door closes, and we sit, I look across the table at him. “It’s always good to see you, but I’ll admit this comes as a surprise. Usually, when someone sits across from me during business hours on a Tuesday, it’s to discuss divorce proceedings.”

“Yes,” he replies, his chunky fingers drumming the glass-top table. “I want to part ways with my current wife.” Of course you fucking do.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“We both know it’s coming and long overdue.” With a clip to his tone, he picks the lint off his sweater.

“So, you’re here for legal advisement?”

“I want you as my lawyer.”

“You have a team of attorneys for every aspect of your life.” His last divorce attorney is probably still on retainer. “Do you mind if I ask why you want to work with me?”

“I like you. Marlow likes you. I’ve heard good things about your career, and I think this divorce is going to be a battle.” Lowering his voice, he adds, “I want to keep things in the family.” He clicks his tongue and winks.

I’ve known the man for years, but only through his occasional visits to his daughter. I’m thinking family is a bit of a stretch. “As much as I’m flattered, I think it would be wise to have an attorney in Los Angeles handle the case. California law is different?—”

“Nothing you can’t handle.”

“I’m not licensed in California, but I can give you a referral?—”

“No need.” His hand goes flat on the surface with the same impatience Marlow displays.

“I’ve made up my mind. You’ll be representing me, Wellington.

I’m filing in the state of New York. I think it will be cleaner here than in California.

The Manhattan apartment has been considered my main residence for the past year. ”

Ah. The plot thickens. “In preparation for filing.”

“California sees the divorce more equitably than New York.”

“True. It’s an equitable division state.”

“But that doesn’t mean half right out of the gate. Fair is not always equal.”

He’s done his homework. “Are you residing in the city?”

“I’m flying back and forth. I’m backing a new show on Broadway. It opens next month. For the filing, you can list the Park Avenue address.”

“And I assume you had a prenup?”

“Yes, but I got lazy. I should have filed six months ago.”

“Because?”

A scowl filters across his face. “The payout increases every six months. We didn’t discuss this, but I have a golf buddy who got his prenup voided. What’s the likelihood of getting that done for me?”

I do not—correct that— should not take this case. Red flags are already going up. Bob’s latest divorce will be a high-profile case and splashed on every magazine in the country.

I’ve worked tirelessly for three years to prove myself, sacrificing most of my personal life to show how dedicated I am.

Cade and Jackson have given me shit for missing baseball games, parties, and canceling dates with certain European flight attendants who were in the city for only one night.

If I take this case and it goes sideways— if I fail —all my hard work would be wasted.

But if it goes right . . . I’ll make partner by next year. It’s an ambitious plan, but I’m willing to take the chance. With caution.

“The travel expenses back and forth to California will be costly,” I say.

“I want the best, and my princess always talks about you being the best. This is your time to shine, kid.” Kid . . . time to shine . . . I try not to roll my eyes. Since the comments are meant as compliments, I don’t hold them against him. “I won’t take no, Rad. Draft the paperwork.”

Without an out coming to mind, I spy Mrs. Klein, a senior partner, eyeing me from outside her office. When her tap her temple, I know the signal. Bob Marché isn’t just a big name in Hollywood. I need to take advantage of this opportunity that just landed in my lap. It’s expected.

He holds his hand out. “Do we have a deal?”

I reach over and take it. “Let’s get started.”

Why do I feel as though I just sold my soul to the devil to make partner?

And yet, not thirty minutes ago, I felt as though I could make a genuine difference for the better in someone’s life? For Tealey.

Fuck if my life didn’t just get a lot more complicated.