She has a greenhouse off the side of the modest property, a yard overflowing with colorful blooms, vines framing the gates and front door, and more green succulents and other various plants inside than there is space to sit down.
She patiently walked me through the maintenance and care of them, and I could tell right away that they meant a lot to her. I was happy to find out that almost everything outside was hooked up to an automatic water system, so it hasn’t actually been as much work as I feared it would be.
Still, I’ve spent a decent amount of time picking the occasional weed, monitoring soil, deadheading, and sending her pictures and videos. But I don’t mind. It’s a perfect arrangement for us to trade places. Her dreamy mix of vintage and zen sense of style is growing on me too.
I know it’s probably because we haven’t spent much time together, and neither of us has spare time for small talk or casual conversation, but she’s been incredibly kind to me and I’m grateful that I can stay at her house while I’m here.
She seems like the type of girl I’d like to have as a friend. Under different circumstances, maybe we could be.
That may not be for much longer unless I can save my job today. I’ll miss this place if I have to leave soon. With a sigh, I rinse out my smoothie glass and load it in the dishwasher.
A horn honks from the front yard and I put my sunglasses on, masking my eye-roll even though no one is inside with me to see it.
Plastering on a look of confidence, I walk out the door, locking it behind me and doing a quick scan of the yard to make sure everything is in order before I get into my brother’s ridiculous vehicle of choice. It’s a stupidly expensive white sports car with a full custom borderline neon red interior. Bright enough to give you a headache just from sitting in it. It fits his outlandish personality, I guess.
Immediately, I cringe when I spot the tiny white bag of white powder sticking out from under a piece of paper in the center console. And as I expected, he didn’t waste a second beforemaking me feel like the size of an ant. I can take his terrible attitude, but he better not be high.
“You could have told me it was this far out of town and off dirt roads. You owe me a fucking detail.”
More worried about getting the dust off his precious car than helping me. He sounds like my father when he says things like that and it makes me cringe once again.
I place my bag on my lap and gently close the passenger door, although I’d like to slam it. Maybe even run a key along the pristine paint on the outside once he drops me off for good measure.
Spencer and I have always had a rocky relationship. He’s competitive, outgoing, and has been successful in pretty much everything he’s ever set out to do. My parents dote on him with his fancy Ivy League degree and going into the family business with my dad. Unfortunately, they don’t find his conceited comments and finance bro attitude as annoying as I do.
I still texted him once I got home last night begging for a ride to the office since my keys were nowhere to be found. I did not want to call and beg him for a ride to work. I didn’t even want to call him when I needed help getting out of a damn holding cell either.
But this morning I didn’t have much choice. A recurring theme for me, it seems. I needed someone to take me into town. And at least with Spencer, I know what I’m getting. Calling Warren was out of the question, of course. I’ve come to terms with letting him help me get home. I wasn’t about to tack on getting me to work too.
“You’re lucky I was still in town,” Spencer says through a mouthful of what looks like a breakfast sandwich. “Next time you mess shit up and need a ride to work, just call Emma. I should already be back in the city. I don’t have time for this.”
It’s been awkward working with my brother’s girlfriend, Emma. For some reason, she feels the need to fill me in on all the dirty details of their fling and I have to stop myself from saying something rude every time she brings him up in the office. And anyway, she’s probably been at work for hours already and wouldn’t have come to get me this morning anyway.
“She was asked to come in early and help with pro bono day. I knew she wouldn’t be able to pick me up, so I called you,” I explain in a flat voice while staring out the window at the passing fields of green.
“Whatever,” he mumbles as he swallows his food. “The hell is pro bono day?”
“People from all over the county come into the firm for a free consultation. They’re either taken on as clients free of charge or referred to someone else who can help them.”
“Sounds dumb.”
I shake my head and cross my ankles. If he didn’t have such a complete lack of empathy, he’d bother to educate himself on giving back to the community.
Mariana Powell and Henry Grant, partners at the firm, host the pro bono day once per quarter. There are no appointments, first come first serve. Despite what some may assume, It’s more than just a tax write-off in the form of literal charity cases. I haven’t experienced it before today, but from what I’ve heard, they’ve helped a multitude of families, single parents, and struggling businesses get the representation they need but can’t afford.
Spencer looks down at his phone to answer a text and I grab the handle of the passenger side door, hoping we make it to town in one piece before we either crash or I kick him out with the spike of my heel, leaving him on the dirt road to drive there myself.
I know deep down that he’s a good guy. Or that he could be. But he’s followed in our dad’s footsteps and unfortunately, that means that image reigns supreme in his mind. Nothing I ever do measures up to their expectations and it’s exhausting.
By the time he drops me off and I walk into the law firm office, it’s already buzzing with the sound of the copy machine, clients in the waiting area, and classic country music streaming softly through the speakers. I’m not late, for once, but I expected that with pro bono day happening.
“Psst!” A voice hisses from behind the freakishly tall fiddle leaf fig tree next to the front desk. I step toward it curiously and crane my neck, finding Emma hiding and trying to get my attention.
When I started working here, I thought Emma hated my guts. But after about a week or so, she started dating my brother and conveniently warmed up to me. I’ll admit, she’s given me countless helpful tips on how to deal with our coworkers and firm partners in an attempt to settle in here and plant the seed of a hopefully successful career. But despite her help, things haven’t been going as well for me as I’d hoped.
“There are policemen in the conference room,” she whispers. “Come on.”
6
