It was a Thursday afternoon. Michael was on the phone talking with his new client, a former NFL quarterback who’d been arrested recently on charges of domestic violence. His version of the truth was that he was in the middle of a messy divorce and the soon-to-be ex-wife was trying to squeeze more money out of him for alimony and child support. The fact was that Michael didn’t care about the actual truth. His job was to provide the best defense for his client that money could buy.
Maggie knocked lightly on his door and popped her head in, but seeing that he was on the phone she whispered an apology and started to back away. Michael held up a finger and motioned for her to come in. She crossed to the black leather chairs opposite his desk and sat waiting for him to finish.
“No, I understand, man, she’s just busting your balls,” he said into the phone, rolling his eyes for Maggie’s benefit. “Okay, we’ll make sure that all of that comes out at trial, but I’m telling you, don’t contact her. For any reason. Do you hear me?” He paused, listening to the reply on the other end. “Alright, we’ll talk soon.” He hung up the phone. “What’s up, Mags?” he asked, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
“I’m just touching base with you before I take off,” she said. “Now this,” she handed him a folder, “is the brief you asked me to look over. My edits are in pencil. And as for coffee tomorrow...”
“Wait, what’s going on?” he interrupted.
“I’m leaving for Martha’s Vineyard tonight, remember?” she said. “I’m in my friends’ wedding on Saturday.” She watched him digest the information. “We talked about this a month ago, and again last week.”
He sat back and blew out a breath. “Oh yeah. I just didn’t realize that was this weekend.”
“Don’t worry, everything’s under control. I’ve already ordered the coffee and Dan agreed to pick it up on his way in tomorrow morning. Lunch is ordered and will be delivered by noon.”
“Okay,” he said slowly.
“Dan also ordered to make sure the books get back to the library. I’ll come in early on Monday or something to make sure everything’s in order,” she tried to reassure him.
“If the wedding is on Saturday, why are you leaving tonight?” he wondered.
“Preparations begin early tomorrow for the bachelorette party,” she said grinning mischievously.
Michael laughed. “Ohhh, I get it.” He crooked an eyebrow at her. “Are we talking copious amounts of alcohol and male strippers?”
She returned his saucy look. “If I’m lucky.”
He shook his head as she stood and walked to his door. “Alright, Mags. We’ll try to muddle along without you for a day. We’re going to miss you, though.”
“Yes,” she agreed, winking at him. “You will.”
He watched her walk out of his office, aware that she’d left him feeling vaguely unsettled. He recalled their previous conversations about her trip, he just hadn’t paid attention to the details, the when and the where. From outside his door, he heard Maggie say goodbye to Karen.
“Have a great time,” Karen said. “Meet some handsome stranger who sweeps you off your feet. Isn’t that what weddings are for?”
Michael heard Maggie laugh. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
“And you’ll post lots of pictures on Facebook? You know I live vicariously through you,” Karen teased.
“Of course, lots of pictures just for you,” Maggie answered. “Find me on Snapchat, too. I’m GingerGirlLaw. You’ll see all the debauchery. See you Monday,” she laughed and he heard her walk away.
That was interesting. Maggie and Karen are connected on social media? Michael avoided Twitter and the like. It seemed undignified somehow.
Martha’s Vineyard, he thought. It’s beautiful this time of year. Did she say that she’s a bridesmaid? Suddenly visions of Maggie in frothy low-cut wedding formal wear came to mind. He shook his head and returned to his work.
On Friday, Maggie’s organization proved flawless. Dan brought in the morning coffee and lunch was delivered correctly and on time. Once or twice throughout the day Michael caught himself headed to Maggie’s office to ask her something before realizing that she wasn’t there. She said I’d miss her, he mused. I just forgot she was away. That’s not the same thing.
That night he went to a gallery opening with Veronica Davis, wealthy widow of Philip Davis, a long-time patron of the arts. At forty, Veronica was a young widow although she was still a couple of years older than Michael. She was a beautiful platinum blonde and when they went out together, infrequently though it was, they never failed to make the gossip columns, which was fine with him. Her crowd kept him in business. She was pleasantly undemanding, too, unlike the younger women he dated.
Throughout the evening, Michael found his thoughts returning to Maggie. He wondered if the bachelorette party was really as wild as she’d said it would be, smiling to himself as he pictured Mary Margaret Flynn stuffing dollar bills into the g-string of some greased-up muscle-bound stripper. Veronica commented on a painting, bringing his thoughts back to the present.
On Saturday, Michael spent a couple of hours in the office working on some of his active cases. He met Murph for lunch where they discussed rm business including the possibility of an increase in the office rental for the following year. “Maybe we should find office space that we can purchase,” Murph offered.
In the afternoon, Michael worked out in the gym in his building. He warmed up on the treadmill before working with the weight machine. As he sat working on his chest and shoulders one of his neighbors, Amanda from the floor below his, began working on the stair climber directly across from him.
God bless the creator of yoga pants, he thought. It’s like a push-up bra for your ass. She was hot, a leggy blonde with killer tits. But he knew better than to date someone from his building. Before you knew it, she’d be popping in unannounced, demanding to come in and chat. He contented himself with enjoying the view.
After his workout, he checked his phone and found that Gwen was back in town. He cringed remembering the last time they’d gone out and decided to ignore the message. Besides, his Yankees were playing tonight and spending an evening in watching baseball and drinking Heineken sounded like the perfect Saturday night.
Three-quarters of the way through the game, the Yankees were down two runs to none. Beau Beaulieu, pitcher for the Texas Rangers was doing a number on his beloved Bombers. He considered going to bed but it was only 10:30.
Glancing at his phone beside him on the huge leather sectional he thought about Maggie. She’s probably still at the wedding. He thought about her parting words to Karen. GingerGirlLaw on Snapchat.
He found the app quickly enough and downloaded it, followed the start-up instructions and fifteen minutes later had his own account. He quickly found Maggie and thought for a moment, glancing at the empty green bottles lined up on the coffee table. I probably wouldn’t be doing this stone cold sober, he considered. Holding the phone at arm’s length, he held the record button for a few seconds. Quickly, he pressed Send before he changed his mind.