Because of the winter storms, Lucille and Noah remained in Asheville until after the New Year, leaving Perdie and Carter to their own devices.
P: You and Noah still “just friends” or what?
L: Ha-ha. No comment. But you’ll never believe the email I got today.
P: Spill.
L: From HAMPTON. An apology. Apparently, he’s in rehab. Also, he said he’d wire me ten grand for any damages he caused.
P: Don’t you dare respond to that email, Lucille.
L: I won’t, I won’t. I promise, cross my heart and swear to Diana.
Carter could have left. He could have trekked downtown to his apartment. The roads had mostly cleared and life was picking back up to its usual post-Christmas rhythm. When he did leave, to grab his clothes and other essentials, he returned right back to Perdie and Bananas. She swore she could feel the ventricles of her own heart folding in on themselves when he leaned down to kiss her in her front doorway. Was this dying?
“Don’t binge-watch any shows without me. And I’m ordering salads too.”
When he returned, he’d changed. Back in his usual expensive but understated style. His stubble gone, jaw now freshly shaven. Work-appropriate attire.
In Perdie’s head the countdown had begun. She only had so many days left of snowed-in bliss until the harsh reality of the New Year, and the judgmental drudge of the workplace returned.
An email popped up on her phone. It was from the recruiter.
Perdita,
Perfect timing. Smith and Macher the firm on Meeting Street needs to fill a position right away with someone of your background. Can you go in for a meeting in the next few days?
Melissa
The morning to return to work had finally arrived. Perdie sent Carter back to his apartment before Lucille came home. She wasn’t ready for that introduction quite yet.
And for work today, in honor of her personal liberation, Perdie dressed in the spirit of Gloria Steinem. She wore high-waisted, flared, gray trousers with a thin black sweater and a middle part in her hair and everything. This is feminism, right? Lucille would know, but she was sleeping.
Before she got out of her car in the attorney parking lot, her phone dinged with a meeting request from Jennifer and Sophia. Perdie pursed her lips. Their relentless nosiness was an irritant. Jennifer and Sophia had gone radio silent over the holiday break, presumably taking the days off to spend with their families, but they apparently hadn’t forgotten the talk they’d had at the holiday party two weeks ago like Perdie hoped they would.
Perdie tapped the screen: DECLINE. First, she had a ton of work to do with Carter to prepare for their upcoming trip to San Francisco to meet with the Fletcher Group members. Not to mention the nebulous and looming threat of his entire family within driving distance. Second, she had a clandestine interview with a firm on Meeting Street for later in the afternoon should things take a murky turn at Joy and Schulz. And third, if Jennifer and Sophia were trying to weaponize her secret relationship with Carter against her, well—ha!—joke was on them, because she and Carter were about to come out with it that very morning, come hell or high water.
Her stomach flipped at the idea but it was better to ’fess up and control the narrative than get caught and have the story told for you, right? Right?
On cue, Carter pulled up next to her, the bump of his car door, and then a knock on her passenger window. She rolled it down.
“Oh come on, man.” Perdie shook her head.
“What? I just got here.”
Perdie opened the door, unfolding out of her vehicle to stand next to him. “Goddammit. We’re matching.” Carter’s gray pants and black sweater were a different cut than hers, but the likeness was unmistakable. “This is going to be a disaster, and we’re wearing matching outfits. Of course, you’re not nervous, you’re not the one with your career on the line.”
“It won’t go down like that. And even if it did, Frank’s only one person. And he isn’t the only person in the firm with power. I can use my skills for good as well, you know. Have a little faith.” He smiled. “And I like that we match. Signifies we’re a team.”
Her lip curled in a begrudging smile. “I don’t like it, but your cheesiness might be wearing off on me.”
They made their way into the building. The plan was to get the easy disclosure stuff with HR done first. Then head to dreaded Frank’s office. Perdie was much more concerned with interacting with Frank than Carter was, but she’d made her decision, and she was going to do this thing with Carter, right? Right?
“Knock, knock,” Carter said.
He and Perdie stood outside Frank’s office door. Frank glanced up, quickly clicking off his computer screen—but not before Perdie caught a glimpse of women’s lingerie. Something told Perdie it wasn’t for his wife, the burden, ha-ha.
“Ah, to what do I owe the pleasure from such a dynamic duo?” He rolled his chair to his desk, interlocking his fingers and resting them atop the surface. “The Fletcher Group has big things brewing on the horizon, acquisitions galore, so I hope you’re ready to wine, dine and sixty-nine ’em on your trip out to San Fran.”
“We’re more than prepared,” Perdie said, crossing her arms, but Carter cleared his throat.
“Actually, we came here to discuss something of a personal matter.”
Frank raised his eyebrows, his gaze on Carter. “Oh? Well then, you have my attention.”
“Regarding the matter of a newly developed personal relationship between Ms. Stone and myself. We understand the special nature of a relationship like ours and we want you to know that we will take all precautions to keep a safe and harassment-free work environment for all parties involved.”
“We—we already sorted it out with HR and everything, so nothing untoward or sordid to worry about,” Perdie stuttered. Heat rose in her cheeks at Frank’s blank stare. Oh shit. Not only was this embarrassing, but she honest to god had no clue how he would react. Sometimes, she swore Frank had it in for her to begin with, and the last thing she needed to do was provide a loaded gun with more ammo.
Stop yourself, P. You’re spiraling. You have another job interview today anyway.
It took a moment for Frank to respond, as if his brain were an old computer with too many tabs open. Then he unlocked his fingers, spreading them on the desktop. “Hmm...okay.”
Perdie nibbled her lip.
“And so...” Carter spoke slowly as if to a toddler “...we are disclosing information to you so that you can rest assured that we have the firm’s best interest at heart and that our personal relationship won’t interfere in any way with our own or anyone else’s professional relationships.”
Perdie held her breath, waiting. She was so fucked.
Frank narrowed his eyes for a moment, his gaze darting between the two of them. And then he let out a chuckle. “Ah, you kids. So serious. Relationship disclosure. Hell, back in my day half the second floor was screwing each other. You couldn’t walk down a hallway without hearing some kind of personal squabble about an affair. Sorry to disappoint, but nobody cares if you...do whatever it is you’re doing together. We’re all adults here. We’re all human. Plenty of people in this firm date or...eh, who cares.” He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
Perdie raised her eyebrows, tightening her arms to her chest as Frank’s gaze wandered there. “Oh.” The sound came out staccato. “Well then. Glad we are all at a reasonable...ah...understanding.”
“Keep the Fletcher Group on board and that’s all that matters at the end of the day. It’s about the work, isn’t it?” Frank pushed his chair back from his desk. “That’s all Charles Joy cares about. We on the same page?”
Carter nodded. “Of course, the Fletcher Group is my client after all.”
“And you’re the smartest hire we ever made at this firm, Leplan.”
The words scraped against Perdie’s ego like a cheese grater, but she put her emotions on hold until they could escape Frank’s office. She turned to leave. “Great. Thanks.” It was only a matter of time until Frank said something cree—
“And hey, while we’re on a personal note, if you two ever wanna do some swinging...ah...stop by my office sometime after hours, if ya know what I mean.”
Perdie dug her nails in her palms as she pivoted slowly back to Frank. “Excuse me?”
“Ah ha-ha. It’s called a joke, Perdita. Not sure when everyone got so PC about everything anyway...”
Carter cleared his throat. “Maybe we’ll save that discussion for another day. Thanks again, Frank.” He signaled towards the door for Perdie and they rushed out of the room.
Without a word to one another, they walked in parallel strides towards the elevator, where Carter hit the down arrow. The giddiness of relief flowed out towards Perdie’s hands and feet.
Ding.
Swoosh. When the door closed they both began talking at once.
“Can you believe he asked us if we wanted to swing?”
“Wanna make out in the elevator?”
Carter stilled. “Really? Right now?” Then he sighed, as if world weary from her demands, and snatched Perdie by the waist, his large hand pressed against the side of her rib cage, thumb brushing at the underside of her breast. “Better make this fast.”
At five thirty a.m. Perdie and Carter sat together in the first-class cabin, sipping dull coffee in tiny paper cups, preparing for their five-plus-hour flight to San Francisco. Carter’s long legs stretched out, while she crossed hers, her black patent leather heel bouncing against his pant leg.
She breathed in deep, eyes closing. He smelled so, so, so very good.
Good enough to ruin your career over? The thought snapped like a reflex. Perdita Stone, it is time to get over yourself. You are nothing but paranoid. Nobody gives a good goddamn if you’re screwing Carter. Hell, not even Frank.
All that paranoia had been for nothing. Nothing. They could’ve been screwing the whole time and not a damned person would care. Well, maybe Jennifer. But that didn’t matter now.
Plus, she had two big things working in her favor: her work with the Fletcher Group and her burgeoning case with Noah. As long as she kept her nose to the grindstone, and her ass out of petty drama re: Jennifer and Sophia, no one could take that from her.
And if, in the meantime, she privately wanted to feel Carter up on a first-class flight at five thirty in the morning, well, then, who was stopping her exactly?
Only herself. The problem was that there hadn’t been a problem the whole time. It was all in her head. She could almost laugh.
The pressure shifted in her ears and belly as the plane ascended. She let her gaze drift out the window when the creak of the armrest drew her attention. Carter had lifted it, removing the barrier between their two bodies. Instinctively, she moved to scoot closer when she almost stopped in realization.
That’s what he did. He removed barriers. Barriers she had put up for what she thought were good reasons. But maybe it was okay to let her guard down for a while. Try it out...test the waters...
“We’ll have fun on this trip.” Carter rested his head against the back of the plane seat. “And we can use all the hours you billed here for a good leveraging chip for your partnership nomination.”
“We?”
“Of course we. I’m infiltrating the executive committee. Use my powers for good.”
“Okay, Spider-Man. But I should warn you that I’m not much of a Mary Jane type.”
“No, you’re not. You’re your very own type. One of a kind. No red hair either.” His mouth was curved in a smile. That beautiful fucking smile.
A rush of warmth filled Perdie like that feeling she got when she first stepped foot into a warm bubble bath.
Carter’s head tilted, his eyes regarding her with amusement. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m some birthday candles you’re about to blow out.”
Perdie narrowed her eyes.
Motherfucker, she had gone and fallen in love with him.
Perdie rolled over on her back, the white down comforter tangled and hot around her torso and legs. She was hungover. Again. But she’d done her job for the evening, with Carter. The Fletcher Group outing had been mild, relatively speaking, compared to some of the Joy and Schulz client schmoozing of old. For one, there’d been no strip club or lines of coke off a bathroom sink. Instead, Perdie and Carter had taken the four Fletcher Group representatives out to a nice steakhouse, ushering in expensive bottles of cab and chardonnay one by one by one.
There had been laughing and small talk and the usual drunken test of keeping things personal-professional. Personal enough to keep the client seeing them as human, like friends, and professional enough not to cross any boundaries that might cause outcries. Perdie was already a pro at toeing that line anyway. And she was aware of how Carter’s presence legitimized her to those around them.
She patted the spot next to her, but no Carter. She propped up on her elbows, head pounding, and gazed down to see that she was wearing one of Carter’s off-kilter button-downs.
Last night, as they’d stumbled into his hotel room, she’d stripped out of her fuchsia sheath, kicked her heels across the room, and pulled on one of his shirts. It was supposed to be sexy. Maybe not so sexy when it was all crooked—why was she so bad at buttons anyway?—but it hadn’t bothered Carter as his hands wandered beneath the material, pulling her to the luxe hotel mattress and whispering filthy things into her ears.
She let her fingers slide up and down the buttons. They had done good work both in and out of the bed last night.
The lock whirred and the door opened. Carter emerged, two cups of coffee in his hands.
“I see Sleeping Beauty has arisen.” He sat down on the bed, handing her one of the cups.
She squinted, opening the lid to blow the liquid cool. “How are you up so early? And why do you look like that?”
Carter was in workout gear, pants and a zip-up sweatshirt with a pair of fancy but unidentifiable-to-Perdie running shoes. His hair was windblown but otherwise he appeared fresh as a daisy. “Best cure for a hangover is a run.”
“Get outta here. How come I keep forgetting you’re a masochist?”
He leaned over to trail his hand up her thigh and under her shirt. “Because we do so much stuff that feels so good together...” His breath against her made her eyes shutter as he kissed her lightly on the vulnerable shell of her ear.
“Ah, speaking of.”
Perdie jolted from her daze when Carter pulled away to show her his phone.
“Email from Frank and Charles Joy already. Looks like the Fletcher Group is very, very happy with us. They want to debrief first thing tomorrow morning.”
Perdie sipped her coffee tentatively. “Ugh, is this a nightmarish monkey’s paw type scenario where I wished for success and all success turned out to be was a bunch of meetings with old men who say inappropriate shit to me?”
“Don’t be such a pessimist. Someday fairly soon they’ll die.”
Perdie snorted in her coffee. “We have a while until our flight, don’t we? I’m gonna need a bit to kick this hangover. Unless you want to make the trek to a dispensary and procure me some hangover weed. It’s what Spider-Man would do for Mary Jane.”
Carter unzipped his hoodie, tossed it to the bed, and reached behind his neck to pull off the shirt underneath.
Perdie leaned back against the headboard to ogle him. Nope, never gets old. “You ever gonna tell me what those tattoos are all about?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think we’ve been on our third date yet. But I’ll tell you what, I know where to get you the best hangover weed on the planet. There’s just one caveat.”
“And that is?”
“Don’t freak out.”
“Commencing freak-out. What.”
Carter scratched his ear. “It’s my mothers’ house...”
“Freak-out intensifying.”
“I understand, but I told them I’d stop by before the end of the trip. Also, if you come with, I’ll tell you—no, I’ll show you—all about my tattoo. Even before the third date. Scout’s honor.”
Perdie winced as if the very act of thinking was painful. And in all honesty, it was. Every muscle in her body screamed absolutely the fuck not. She didn’t need to meet Carter’s family, what a committed thing to do.
But she fought the impulse. Fought the fear. She’d created enough negativity in her life by finding problems where problems didn’t exist. It was time to push her own boundaries a little. Emphasis on little.
Deep breath in. “I know I’ll regret this but...” her lids squeezed together “...fine.”
Carter clapped his hands. “I’m impressed with you, Bad Girl.” And he leaned to kiss her before heading towards the bathroom. “Meet me in the shower and I’ll show you my gratitude.”