Hey There, Delilah... (5 page)

I arrive at the office earlier than he requested, but maybe that will help with getting through the work quicker, so I don’t have to come back tomorrow.  I head past Carmella’s desk, which is dark, and stroll through the maze of empty desks and offices. It is almost eerie it is so quiet; I guess we are going to be the only ones here today.  When I catch sight of Nick, he is bending over a file box, rubbing his stubbled jaw. I’m starting to think that is his signature move. Like when he is frustrated or stressed. Maybe it helps him relax and find his happy place. I just wish instead of his jaw, he was rubbing it between my legs. Fuck me.

He must hear me come in because he imme
diately stands up and turns to face me, a shy smile on his face.  Along with his tight worn jeans, that are hung low on his hips, he has on a skintight heather grey t-shirt, that is perfectly molded to his chest.  I can finally see his muscular arms, and they do not disappoint.  I can also tell that his chest is rock hard, and his abs must be ripped by the way it is pressed against his body. His thighs are thick enough to fill the jeans and he is barefoot.
He did say casual.
  How am I going to be productive with him looking like this?  He is a God, an Adonis – an Italian Stallion.   Moreover, although it is usually the man in this position, he could be my downfall, my Delilah; and I, his Samson. 

We have a brief conversation. He finally gives me the compliment I wa
s waiting all week to hear and then gives me a firm cell phone.  I am so proud of myself. I mean, I know I rock at what I do, but the acknowledgment and appreciation is certainly nice to hear. I avoid direct eye contact with him because one, I am embarrassed by what I was doing in the bath when he called, and two, I don’t want him to see the lust in my eyes.  But after those kind words, I pull up my big girl panties and look him straight in the eyes.  We lock gazes for a brief moment, and then he makes an excuse to go to his office, and sends me to the conference room.   Five minutes ago, I was wonderful and fabulous, and now he can’t stand to look at me.  Way to go, frump girl.

I walk into the conference room and eyeball all of the file boxes full of discovery –
the information (the official charging document), police report, evidence, witness lists, and depositions, just to name a few.  We are working on a felony-murder case, and apparently, Nick has been working on it for almost a year before I arrived.  We represent Joey (I can’t tell you his last name for confidentiality reasons), and he was the getaway driver - allegedly - in a bank robbery gone badly.  Allegedly, while his partner was inside the bank, his gun accidentally went off, killing the manager.   Since the police consider Joey to be acting in concert with the other offender (who will remain nameless), he is being charged with the same offense, murder. And even if Joey didn’t have specific intent to kill in the commission of the felony, he can still be charged with murder.   And if that doesn’t suck, get this, the (alleged) accomplice flipped on Joey, and is now one of their leading witnesses.  He still has to be on trial for the murder, in order to charge Joey, but the prosecutor lessened the degree for his cooperation in naming Joey.  Nick filed a motion months ago to sever and separately try them as individuals, as opposed to jointly, so they won’t be tried as co-defendants in the same trial.  This way, we can attack his credibility and come up with a plausible defense.  What is our defense? Duress.

Let me explain.
Joey and this asshole (let’s just call him Tim for the sake of this story) grew up in a rough area of Harlem together. They started out committing petty crimes, until one day Joey, when he was fifteen, was arrested for stealing his mom’s car. A few weeks later, Tim shows up at juvenile hall for running drugs, and they end up roommates. Now at the time, Tim was a year older than Joey, and a lot bigger and stronger. He always had his back, and protected him from the bullies and other gang members, keeping him safe. When Joey was released first, all Tim said was, “You owe me, and one day, I will collect.” And apparently, ten years later, he came for what he promised.

Joey was released from juvie six months later, and ever since, he
has stayed out of trouble. He finished high school, graduated college, and worked an honest living. He helps take care of his mother and siblings, and hasn’t been pulled over for so much as a speeding ticket. But the day Tim was released, all hell broke loose, and the shit hit the fan. He came back to collect.

According to Joey, who tells a completely different story than his counterpart, Tim showed up at his house in the middle of
the night threatening to kill him if he didn’t help him commit a bank robbery. All he had to do was drive the getaway car. Drop him off in front of the bank, wait five minutes for him to return with the money, and drive back home. If he agreed to do that, they would be even; if he didn’t agree, he would be dead. Sounds like duress to me. But just in case you need more convincing, as I am sure Nick will remind the jury, here is the definition of duress, according to
Black’s Law Dictionary.
“Any unlawful
threat
or
coercion
used... to induce another to act [or not act] in a manner [they] otherwise would not [or would].
”

Seems like a slam-dunk case to me. I have been working pretty closely with Joey this past week, and would really like to see him get a favorable outcome. He has worked so hard to turn his life around,
and he deserves this second chance. I just hope Nick can convince the prosecutor Julianna to offer a reasonable plea bargain. I am pretty sure I overheard someone say that they know each other well, whatever that means. Nonetheless, I would enjoy making that call to Joey.

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It’s approaching 6:00 pm and my stomach is growling. I need to eat something if I am going to stay any later. I ring Nick in his office through his intercom and ask if he would like me to order dinner for us. He says to order and for me to come to his office in fifteen minutes, and then hangs up abruptly. He seems…off. I don’t get the chance to ask what he wants or what he is in the mood for, and I know he eats healthy during the week because I order his lunches, but I am craving pizza. So I make an executive decision and order it. Oh, and I order a salad for him, just in case he is a total health nut.

I order dinner from the local pizza parlor around the corner - a
large pizza supreme, and a chef salad – and run down to the café in the lobby for some soda, beer, and bottles of water. Better to have a selection for him to choose. I am not one of those chicks that picks at their rabbit food in front of men.  I enjoy eating, and if you don’t like me because I eat like a regular person, then we just aren’t meant to be together. And there is nothing like pizza and cold beer. But, technically, we are at work, so that’s why I got the soda and water; I will let him choose first, and follow his lead. It’s not like we are on a date, anyway; I don’t need to impress him with anything other than my secretarial skills.  There’s no way a perfect ten would be attracted to someone like me…a total frump girl.

About fifteen minutes have gone by, so I make my way to Nick’s office.   I can’t figure out why he wanted t
o stay away from me all day, but I’m guessing it’s because of the way I act and dress.  I must have offended him somehow, but again, he did say casual.  I think maybe it is time to let Charlie renovate my wardrobe.

I kn
ock on Nick’s office door, even though I can see through the glass wall that he is not at his desk. A few minutes later, he enters his office through a hidden back door, I later find out is his own private bathroom.  He waves at me to come in and points to the chair in front of his desk, so I take a seat.  Why does he make me so nervous?  Probably because he is the most gorgeous man that I have ever laid my eyes on. Not to mention the fact that I was fantasizing about him pleasing me less than eight hours ago. But in a strange turn of events, he seems to be the one avoiding eye contact with me this time, rubbing his hand furiously against his stubbled jaw more often than usual. I must really look heinous. I mean, I know I am dressed in my usual frump garb, but I have always been told that I have a beautiful face.  All he has to do is focus above the neck. 

We spend the next forty-five minutes reviewing the case and all
of the documents I had been studying in the conference room.  My cell phone rings just as we are finishing Tim’s deposition, and it is the pizza deliveryman calling to tell me that he is in the lobby waiting.  Nick offers to go downstairs to retrieve it, but I wave him off.  But before I can even get out of my seat, he is already out the door, leaving me in his dust.  I guess he is going to get our dinner.

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I am coming out of the private bathroom in my office when I see Delilah standing at the door.  She must have knocked once already because her profile is to me and she is looking down – her usual
modus operandi
lately.  I am still a little flustered from jerking off, and seeing her so soon after is throwing me for a loop.  I look at her a little more closely knowing that she doesn’t know I am here. If I imagine her hair down and styled, wearing properly fitting clothes, and sexy kitten heels, she would probably be decent looking. Okay, maybe a little more than decent looking…cute even.  She has exotic hazel eyes that change colors depending on what she is wearing, or her mood – how the hell do I know that? - a tiny button nose that turns up just slightly at the tip, and sexy ass pouty lips.  Fuck, did I just say sexy? Dammit!  I meant pleasant… pleasantly pouty lips.
No, you said sexy, asshole.

She lifts her head, and our gazes lock briefly.  I look away quickly, not wanting her to be able to read my thoughts through my eyes.
              I catch myself rubbing my hands through the short hairs on my jaw, and immediately drop it. I seem to be doing it more and more lately. It used to have a calming effect, but ever since Delilah started, it has become more of a nervous habit. I wave her in and tell her to sit across from me.  We waste the next forty-five minutes going over all of the documents she had been reviewing most of the day, while I was avoiding her, slapping my Italian salami.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I was planning to cal
l Julianna and persuade her to offer a plea deal.  If that goes through, all of our hard work will have been for naught.  I also didn’t tell her about my history with Julianna.  I’m not sure why I feel like I need to keep that from her, but I am positive I don’t want to know the answer to that.  Delilah’s phone rings and she says it’s our dinner downstairs.  I jump out of my chair and make my way to the door so I can be the one who goes down to the lobby to pick it up.  Lately, I find any excuse not to be alone in a room with her.  Another puzzle I have no intention finding out the meaning behind.

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Nick is already heading back to his office, and he has the strangest look on his face. Like he is trying to solve an expert level Sudoku math puzzle.

“Hey there, Delilah.   I gave you free rein to
order whatever you want for dinner – on me - and you order yourself a salad, and me a pizza?”  He asks me, clearly confused.  His eyebrows knit together, and he is looking at me as if I am the insane one.  Doesn’t he know he has been acting completely weird these past few days?

             
“First of all, don’t you think the song reference is getting a little hokey?  Second, the pizza is for me; the salad is yours. Third, what did you expect me to order?  You hung up before I even had the opportunity to ask you what you wanted. And lastly, how much do I owe you? I always pay my own way. Unless I am on a date, of course.”   I glare at him with my right eyebrow raised, right hand on my hip, left one flailing around.  I know he’s my boss, but it is the weekend, I am here to help him, and he is acting really smug. Then I internally face palm. Why the hell did I bring up that this is not a date? Dumb ass!

             
“Okay, okay. Chill out, Delilah.  I was just asking a question, no need for the dramatics.  But to answer your questions: First, no, I don’t think it is hokey. It makes me laugh, and I know you secretly enjoy it.  I see it in your eyes when I say it.  Second, there is no way I am eating a fucking salad when this pizza is in front of me, smelling better than a hooker after a shower. I am not a fucking rabbit, and I don’t eat their food. Third, pizza is perfect. It would be even better with cold beer.  I guess I just assumed you would be like all my past assistants and either order the most expensive thing they could find, since they always assume it’s on my dime, or that the salad would be yours. Most chicks wouldn’t dream of eating pizza in front of a guy, unless they are married or related to them.  And lastly, this may not be a date, but my mother would kill me if she found out I let a woman pay for her own dinner in my presence.”    We stare at each other, like two cowboys deciding whether to duel or hang the white flag. I think he realizes that I am not a wimpy pushover, and flashes me a panty-melting smile.

“Fair enough,” I say, “Let’s eat.  Oh, and if you weren’t so busy lecturing
me from way up there on your high horse, you would have noticed that I have beer, soda, and water here for us to drink.”

“Touché, Delilah, touché.”

“One more thing,” I add, just as he is about to take a bite of pizza.

“Yeah?” he answers, eyeing me curiously.

“I’m not like any of your past secretaries. So please don’t compare me to them.”

“No, no you’re not,” he confirms, shooting me a sexy wink.  Kill me now.

We start eating in comfortable silence. He grabs a beer and chugs it, spilling a little down his chin.  Oh, what I wouldn’t do to lick it off. I reach over past Nick for my own beer, my breast accidently rubbing against his arm.  His body tenses for a brief second, but I caught it. Then he took a deep breath. Did he just sniff me?

“Oops, sorry.  My girls are so big, they are always bumping into things,” I say, not really meaning my apology.
“And did you just sniff me?” I ask incredulously.

“No problem, I didn’t even know you had those things under all th
e baggy clothes you always wear.  And I wouldn’t exactly classify it as ‘sniffing’ you. I happened to take a breath when you leaned past me.  Don’t take this the wrong way, but you do smell good, like cherries or something sweet?”  

I know this really isn’t an appropriate conversation to be having with my boss, but I think that
the beer is starting to loosen him up.  He is so uptight around me; this may be my only chance to have a normal conversation with him.

“Well, the baggy clothes issue is a story for another
day. As for me smelling good, thank you. It’s just the lotion I wear - Japanese Cherry Blossoms from Bath & Body Works in the mall - nothing exotic or special. ” I sigh, shrug my shoulders, and shove more pizza into my mouth.

“Do you have any good stories you want to share, now?” he asks.  He
sincerely seems to want to get to know me. I guess he really didn’t mean to sniff me, he probably was actually just taking a breath when I leaned past.  I am so foolish sometimes.  Wishful thinking I guess.

“Like what?
”  I ask, a little skeptical.

“I don’t know.
Tell me…How did you end up in my office last Friday?  I’m sure you weren’t on my list of pre-approved resumes.  And the employment agency usually only sends over these blonde bombshells with huge tits and no skills,” he answers, rolling his eyes.

“It’s a long story, and it’s kind of humiliating.  You sure you can handle it?
” I ask hesitantly, not sure if I really want to share with my boss one of the worst days of my life.

“Fuck yeah! Give it a whirl.” 

“Okay, but let me just finish my beer first.  I may need a little liquid courage.”  Here goes nothing…

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