Her Bad Boy Read online

  And everyone around her was glad she did because they were all men, and she was the only one—as far as they were concerned—who could go in there and see to Allie.

  Laura scoffed at them and headed in, while Lucas took a seat as close to where her friends and coworkers had gathered, in order to eavesdrop as best he could about what was happening.

  When she entered, Laura didn't have to ask where her friend was. She could tell by the sounds of the retching and crying.

  "You okay in there?"

  After one particularly violent bout, Allie raised her head and sniffle-groaned, "Just ducky, thanks."

  "Anything I can do?"

  "Yeah, help me put my stomach back into my body when I'm done here?"

  "You got it, kid."

  "Actually, would you run and get my purse? I have a portable toothbrush and toothpaste in there and I have a feeling I'm going to nee—"

  "You have no idea how glad I am to go do that for you. Back in a jiff."

  Lucas watched the woman fly by him, then fly back with what he recognized as Allie's purse, which he had learned was just as Boy Scoutish, in its own way as his car's trunk was. In other words, there was no telling what was in there that she wanted or needed, because she had pretty much a little of everything.

  "Got it! I'm just going to sit out here and wait for you and hope that I don't join in next to you at the sounds of what you're doing. My stomach is very easily suggestible. If it was a vag, it would be a total slut."

  How someone could make her want to laugh when she felt so horrible, she didn't know, but Laura had achieved it.

  Eventually, after more rounds staring at the stains in the bowl with tears flowing down her cheeks than she wanted to count, she straightened experimentally, and nothing in her rebelled violently at the idea. Allie gave it a minute or two, then decided to call it good, but hang around the bathroom for a few minutes, just to make sure.

  But she'd had a bit of an epiphany while emptying her guts into a public toilet, and what it meant, she wasn't exactly sure, but she knew—beyond a doubt—that she couldn't go back into that courtroom today.

  And perhaps not ever again.

  When she'd brushed her teeth, used up her small travel bottle of mouthwash, and combed her hair, she turned to Laura while blowing her nose.

  "I don't usually say this to friends, but I'm glad to see that you finally cried some. Feeling a bit better?"

  "Yes, thanks, but would you be a doll and do me one more thing, pretty please?"

  "Of course!"

  "You know what my boss looks like? Perry?"

  "Yes."

  "Would you go out there and ask him to come in, please?"

  A truly evil grin spread over Laura's face. "Very little else today would give me more satisfaction. He's gonna flip."

  "I knew you'd be only too happy to do that for me."

  Allie stood there, glad the tears were finally under control and her tummy had calmed down, continuing to primp a bit and debating about whether or not to brush her teeth again, listening to Laura do as she'd asked.

  "She wants to see you."

  Allie could see Perry's look of abject horror in her mind. "I can't go in there! I'm a man!"

  Laura would not be deterred for such a paltry reason. "Go on in—it's just a bathroom, for fuck's sake! Grow a pair and get in there." She paused then, rethinking what she'd asked him to do as contraindicated. "Okay, just get in there."

  "Well, what does she want?"

  He was just stalling, and everyone knew it.

  "I imagine she'll tell you when you get in there, hopefully, sometime before the turn of the next millennium!"

  Perry burst in, and Allie knew that Laura had probably pretty much thrown him in, like a Christian to the lions. Although she certainly wasn't feeling very lionish.

  Until that moment, she hadn't been exactly sure what she was going to say to him, but she took a deep breath and said the first thing that came out of her mouth, "I quit."

  Then she grabbed her purse, brushed by Perry, who was standing there stunned, and headed out of the bathroom with Laura trailing after her.

  "Hey, you going home sick?" she asked. "Anything I can do for you or get for you?"

  "Actually, no, I'm going home unemployed. I quit. And—I will owe you a big, decadent dinner out 'cause you're being such an angel—a million thanks, really—but could you run back into the courtroom and grab my briefcase for me? I'm going to head home."

  Laura was just as struck as Perry still was in the bathroom. "You're—you're going home what? What did you say?"

  But Allie just kept on walking, ignoring the chaos that broke out behind her, and again, not seeing the man who came to stand on the fringes of the crowd that had formed around Laura, and then Perry, when he finally appeared, although he wasn't paying attention to any of them. His eyes were glued to the rapidly disappearing figure of the woman he loved.

  Chapter 9

  She had never felt such a weight being lifted off of her as she did that day. She was still in mourning for what she'd lost in regards to Lucas, and she had half expected that she'd feel that much worse for what she'd done so impulsively in the bathroom, but that anvil of guilt never materialized over her head.

  Laura called and asked if she should drop the briefcase by, but Allie told her to keep it.

  "Are you feeling better, still, and do you want some company?" her friend asked.

  "Yes and no, if you don't mind. Not just now."

  She could feel the hesitance in Laura's response. "Okay, well, you know you can call me anytime at all, right? And that I love you?"

  Allie smiled. "I do—and I love you, too. Thank you for everything you did for me today. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

  "Oh, please! How many times have you been my designated driver and poured me home, holding my head while I was sick and putting me to bed? I still owe you a million times over. Text me or call me tomorrow, please, or I'll worry."

  "I will."

  Perry called, too, asking her to come see him when she felt better and sounding genuinely concerned for her, in his gruff, nineteen-fifties dad way.

  Matt called her, as well as others from the office, and one call came in from the same exchange and area code as what had been Lucas' private number, although it was not the same.

  Allie stared at her phone for a long time—not really debating whether or not she was going to take the call, but rather regarding it as if it was a snake invading her home as the tears she'd successfully fought back in the bathroom returned with a vengeance to engulf her.

  She turned off her phone, even unplugged her landline, then crawled into bed and pulled the covers up over her head, losing herself in the tears she'd been holding back for so long.

  But she wasn't one to wallow in them, so, the next morning, she got up—much later than usual, because she'd been crying all night and her tummy had felt a bit funky this morning, which she assumed was left over from yesterday's fiasco—but she had managed to hold off being sick again, thankfully—and plugged her phone in. It immediately began ringing, as did her cell when she turned it on.

  Twenty-five messages, fifteen voice mails, and seventeen missed calls.

  Jackpot! she thought.

  Most were from friends, but there were more from that number she didn't recognize.

  She ignored them all, texting only Laura, who had apparently been frantically texting her since early this morning, forgetting that she didn't have to get up to be at work anymore, since she didn't have a job.

  I'm up and fine. You can stop worrying.

  Riiiiiiiight, she came back with immediately. Like that's going to happen. Btw, answer your damned emails and texts! No one can get a hold of you, so they're all coming to me!

  Sorry. I really don't feel like it right now. I'm free for the first time in a long time. I'm going to take some time off. I'll go in and see Perry, eventually.

  What're you gonna do? How're you going to live?
<
br />   Well, if I can get a payout of all that leave I've accumulated—as well as maybe a small severance package—I'll be fine. I don't know. But at least the leave would be nice. And Perry likes me. He'll do what he can to get me severance. It's just me, and I live pretty frugally, as you know. I could exist on that for quite some time, especially if I downsize a bit.

  Really? You're just going to give up your life's work? Just like that?

  *shrugging* Yeah. It feels scary, but it feels surprisingly right, too. Maybe all of those little changes I've been making have led me to this.

  Okay, well, you know I'll support you in whatever you decide to do.

  Thanks, Laura. You're a great friend!

  You are, too!

  Text me if you need anything.

  I will.

  * * *

  For a few days, she did nothing but veg and relax, although she was a worrier and a planner, so doing so eventually wore on her, and she called and made an appointment to see Perry, who still called her every day, although she had thus far refused to speak to him.

  When she went in, she did it in jeans and a t-shirt, and everyone acted as if they'd never seen her in casual clothes before. Probably because they hadn't.

  There was someone there ahead of her to see the big man, but Perry took her right in, being much too solicitous to her and making her feel a bit creeped out by it.

  "Can I get you anything? How are you feeling? You look thin—but good. Do you want something to eat?"

  Allie rolled her eyes. "Perry, it's me. Relax."

  He took a deep breath. "Sorry. I've been worried about you, kid. What you did was so not like you."

  "I've heard that a bit lately," Allie returned acerbically.

  "Well, you have to admit it."

  "Yep."

  "So, when are you coming back? Please say tomorrow? Matt Bloom is no you."

  "I was no me when I first got here, Perry, remember? Give the guy a chance!" He looked so dubious that she didn't want to say the words she had to, but she did, anyway. "I'm not coming back. I'd like to get a cash payout of my leave, please, and—I don't even know if I can ask for this, since I quit—but I know they were offering severance packages recently instead of riffing people outright, so I wondered if there might be one of those available to me? I know it's a lot to ask, since I'm not coming back, but would you be willing to look into that for me, please?"

  The older man sighed, leaning on his desk on his forearms. "Of course, I will. We'll miss you tremendously—you have real talent, Allie, and you're an incredibly hard worker. I'll send you a letter of reference any time you want, or, if you decide later that you'd like to come back, I'm sure we could work something out."

  Allie stood, tears misting her eyes unexpectedly. Perry had been a great boss and mentor, but she knew it was time for her to find something else to do. She hugged him, because she felt she should, and that made the both of them uncomfortable, so she left as quickly as she could, taking the less traveled route out in order to avoid unwanted, emotional encounters with other coworkers, because saying goodbye to him had her crying much harder than it should have.

  She drove home the long way, wanting to take some time to think in her car, which was one of the best places she'd ever found to do so. She kind of wandered through town, taking the scenic route to a little roadside stand ice cream place she liked.

  But she happened to notice, as she did so, there was a car—several cars back—that had made exactly the same weird turns as she did. And just to prove it, she made an impromptu lane change and took an inconvenient side street, slowing down to pretend to ask someone for directions as she side eyed her rearview mirror and watched it turn down this street, too.

  So, she drove to the parking lot of the nearest police station—not that she thought they were going to be much help—and brought up all of those recent missed calls, this time looking specifically for the one that seemed as if it might have been from Lucas—actually hoping it was Joey's instead.

  And she was right.

  "Go for Zullo."

  "Joey. It's Allie."

  "Oh, my God, are you all right? The boss has been going ape shit worrying about you." He cleared his throat and rephrased. "He's been very concerned about you, Miss Barstow, since you were sick in court. I hope you're feeling better?"

  "Much, thanks. But I need to ask you something. Is there someone from your organization that's been tasked to follow me? I ask because I noticed it a few minutes ago, and I'm now sitting in the parking lot of the police station downtown because I'm afraid to go home."

  "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss—"

  "Joey, call me Allie, please."

  "I can't—you know I can't. He wouldn't like it."

  "Fuck him, Joey. Say it with me."

  He gasped, as if she'd accused him of being a Satanist. "I can't. I won't."

  "He's a coward, Joey, and you and I both know it. He sent you to do to me what he couldn't or wouldn't—"

  "No, it's not like that, Miss—please!"

  Allie ignored what he was saying. He was obviously lying. "Go right now and tell him what I said, then come back on the phone and tell me that I can feel safe driving home. I know he has to be home so he can be there, in court, for the trial. Go do it, Joey. I'll wait."

  He was gone a much shorter amount of time than she thought he'd be. "Uh…Allie?"

  "Yes, Joey?"

  "You can go home now. Please drive carefully, though, and believe that they were only there for your safety."

  "Yeah, right. Thank you, Joey. Tell your boss for me that I said he should go fuck himself." Then she hung up, letting him off the hook about that.

  She made her way home, with a double scoop of amaretto cream and without—she checked compulsively—the Goodfellows escort.

  It got a little lean there for a bit before the leave money came through. She gave up cable, pared down her cell bill, and stopped shopping at the gourmet grocery store, none of which she cared much about.

  She also began to volunteer at Legal Aid and let Laura talk her into trying both a yoga and a spin class.

  Spin class was fine—absolutely torturous, but fine—but yoga, apparently, didn't set well with her, and she ended up in the bathroom—barely having made it there before the barbeque bacon cheeseburger she'd eaten at Red Robin made a repeat appearance.

  Laura came to find her, lounging against the wall while she attended to reparations in front of the mirror. "That bug's a persistent one, isn't it?"

  Allie shrugged. "I don't think it's the same thing as before. My stomach's been a little queasy occasionally—"

  "In the morning?" Laura asked, narrowing her eyes intently.

  She had to consider that. "No, afternoon and evenings, mostly."

  "Oh. Well, maybe you should see a doctor."

  "Probably."

  Both of them knew that there were only two chances that that was going to happen.

  Eventually, not only did she get paid for the almost two years of leave she had saved up, but her wonderful ex-boss had gone to the mat for her and gotten her a small but reasonable severance package—for which she sent him an enormous cookie bouquet, because she knew his wife, Grace, made him eat sensibly at home—and once those two deposits came in, she knew that she would be fine until she rediscovered what she wanted to do.

  And she had an inkling that it might be along the lines of switching sides of the courtroom. She was really enjoying her time at Legal Aid, and she was a valuable asset to them because of her experience in the D.A.'s office.

  But one lazy Sunday afternoon, when she had just hit the farmer's market downtown and was meandering again, she saw it. That same damned car was following her!

  Allie didn't get angry very often, but this time she was livid. And she wasn't going to trust Joey to take care of the situation, because he'd obviously failed, if he'd even tried at all.

  So, she headed to his house in the burbs, only to be turned away at the gate.

  But,
just as she turned around, she got a call. Joey.

  "Yes?"

  "He's not here. He's staying in town because of the trial."

  "Thank you."

  She drove back, and the closer she got to the city, the unhappier her stomach became. She stopped and bought a milk, which sometimes settled her not usually so rebellious stomach nicely, and that seemed to do the trick.

  When she got to his place, she was surprised to find that she was still on the doorman's list to be allowed up, so she was. This was turning out to be easier than she'd thought it would be. She'd expected to have to fight him to get him to call Lucas and ask if he'd see her and figured Lucas would refuse outright and she'd be stuck with two wise guys following her for the rest of her life.

  Why, she'd never know, since he didn't want anything to do with her anymore.

  When she got there, she practically pounded on his door, still as angry as she had been when she spotted them behind her.

  "Open up, Lucas, you coward!" she yelled, her body making her instantly regret that as soon as she saw him as she felt pure adrenaline shoot through her, and she had to force herself not to yield several steps to him.

  He was just as potent to her as he'd always been, even just in sweats that clung to every masculine curve and a worn, holey t-shirt emphasizing his pecs and those arms.

  "Can I help you, Miss Barstow?" he asked, harkening back to what he'd said when he'd found her in the garage with the flat.

  Allie pushed past him, knowing he was allowing her to do it as she did it. Otherwise, she would still have been in the hallway.

  "I thought I had Joey tell you to call off your watchdogs. But they're still following me—I saw them this morning."

  He colored a little, coming to stand in front of her. "They're only there for your protection."

  "Bullshit. I want them gone." Allie took a step towards him, fuelled by anger.

  But neither of them saw what happened next coming.

  She opened her mouth to continue ranting at him, as she had every right to do, and she vomited all over him—violently and continually, until the force of it knocked her to her knees and the two of them—as well as what she was sure was his expensive tile floor—were covered in it.