When The Rain Falls

9. I Get in the Minivan

9 I GET IN THE MINIVAN

FINN

Early sunlight drifts lazily through our sheer curtains. The filtered light cast warm rays across the room. I roll over in bed and pop one eye open. Laurel's dark hair spills seductively over her pillow. I curl into the body, still lost to slumber beside me. The curves under my touch are so delicate and feminine. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into a spoon position. She fits perfectly, nestled beside me.

"Hmmm," she hums softly, bringing a hand to reach behind her and rub the scruff on my face. Her touch is soft and warm.

"Good morning," I whisper into her tousled hair.

"What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

"Doesn't matter. We're not getting up yet." I love waking up beside this woman. And I get to spend the rest of my life doing just that.

"We're not?" she asks mischievously. She turns over to face me. In this moment, she takes my breath away. Her eyes are a golden caramel. Her smile is lazy. She's still wrapped in the sweetness of the fog of sleep. I kiss the tip of her nose.

"There's no chance I'm letting you out of this bed looking so fuckable."

She giggles as I roll onto her.

If my day is going to be anything like my first hour in the office, this one can go to hell.

“So, do I have a case?” Caroline leans across the conference room table and gives me a flirty smile. I know what she’s doing. Her eyes are growing glossy and her mouth is parted slightly. She’s fucking me with her eyes. I try not to snort. The only action I get nowadays only exists in the mind. Of other people.

"Caroline—" I begin, but there's a knock on the conference room door. My assistant, Ann, pops her head in.

"Finn, there's a call for you. It's an important one."

I nod to her before turning to Caroline. "I better get this." I stand and smooth out my shirt.

"Ok, well, we should set up a one-on-one to get all the facts straight. You come on over to my house later this week and I'll cook us up some meatloaf." Caroline gives me a loaded smile. I know exactly what kind of meat she really wants.

I walk towards the conference room door. "My office will be in touch.” Caroline stands and grabs her purse from the table. I open the door and prop it in place with my back.

“You have my number." She eye-fucks me one last time as she walks through the door. I follow her, stepping into the lobby. Ann is seated behind the large front desk, trying desperately to hide her amusement. My paralegal, Jane, is standing by the copier, her back to me.

When Caroline has safely exited the building, I let out a deep sigh of relief.

"For fuck’s sake,” I grumble, setting my hands on my hips and glaring around the room. “No more client consultations with aggressive, single women,” I bark. “One of you could have given me a heads up that she was recently divorced.”

Ann winces. But Jane looks up at me with a challenge in her face. "What? You want me to tell you every detail about every potential client? Then what's even the point of a consultation?" I glare at her, but she glares right back. I take a deep breath and bite back the anger flaring in my gut.

I turn to Ann. "Thanks for saving my ass in there."

"You really do have a call,” she says. “Someone from the Office of Disciplinary Counsel? It sounds important."

The blood drains from my face. Fuck. They're investigating the bar complaint. A sense of dread settles over me as my heart beat rises to the front of my chest. "I'll take it in my office." I turn and storm towards my office door.

"Rebecca, it's the call," I hear Ann whisper behind me.

I spin on my heels and turn to Ann, just as a leggy blond pops out of an office behind her. My partner, Rebecca. The Best of Hudson & Best, PLLC. She's wearing a tailored grey suit dress and her hair is pulled into a tight bun on top of her head. All business and all professional. That's Rebecca. I, on the other hand, can barely keep my shit together most of the time.

"Rebecca, I got this," I say with all the command I can muster. Which isn't much considering how my entire body is burning with pins and needles.

"I know you do," she says carefully. "But I should be on the call. For moral support. To make sure everything remains calm." She walks up to me and places a calming hand on my arm. I immediately shrug her off.

"I'm fucking calm, Rebecca," I snarl before I turn around and stomp through my office door. I slam the door behind me, but Rebecca catches it with her hands. God, she’s persistent. I pull out my chair and plop onto it. I immediately spring back to my feet. I'm so damn fidgety. Like my skin is too tight.

"Fine. Sit." I point Rebecca to the chair across from my desk. She obediently takes a seat.

I grab my desk phone and straighten it out. The light for line five is blinking red, like a broken stop light. I clench a fist, take a deep breath, and punch the button.

"Finn Hudson.”

"Mr. Hudson," comes a perky male voice on the other end of the call. "I’m Preston Flaherty. I'm calling from the Office of Disciplinary Counsel for the Washington State Bar Association." Even his name sounds stuffy and pretentious.

"I was hoping we could schedule a formal interview,” he continues, “but it looks like you’re not represented by counsel yet.”

"Interview? I'll tell you everything right now," I bellow into the phone, jabbing a finger into my desk.

Rebecca shakes her head at me. She’s used to my outbursts. She sees herself as my handler. She crosses her legs and dangles the back of a dainty heel off her foot. She’s flicking a pen nervously against her leg.

"Barry Bartholomew,” I continue. “That's what fucking happened. Are you opening a file on him, too?"

"Finn, no," Rebecca mouths loudly.

"Uh…” Preston pauses.

"Are you interviewing Barry? That asshole can stretch the truth like a wad of fucking bubble gum." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can even think about them.

"Hi, Preston," Rebecca answers after jumping out of her seat and cutting me off. I open my mouth, but Rebecca quickly covers it with her palm. I glare at her as she leans into the speaker. "It's Rebecca Best, I'm Finn's partner. I assure you, we're working on getting that lawyer lined up.” She tentatively pulls her hand off my mouth. I try not to pout.

"Great. Once you do that, have the lawyer contact me as soon as possible."

"Will do. Absolutely," Rebecca says, clicking the button to the call.

"I don't need a fucking lawyer, Rebecca. I can defend myself."

She gives me a look that says get real .

Anger bubbles in my chest. The pressure squeezes my lungs and my vision starts to blur. One. Two. Three . I try to practice controlled breathing when I’m angry, but counting always makes me angrier. I think it’s the number four. It’s just a fucking stupid number.

"Finn. You need a lawyer. You're emotionally invested.”

“I didn't throw my phone at the bailiff! It was an accident."

"Yeah well, you did throw your phone." She crosses her arms and looks pointedly at me.

"I threw it at the ground, it bounced, and then it hit the bailiff. It wasn't assault in the third degree."

"That's what we want the investigation to reveal. But that's not going to happen if you keep blowing up like a hot head every step along the way." Damnit. She's right. She's always right. I can't let them discipline me over this. I can't give Barry the satisfaction.

Barry Bartholomew is my nemesis. We've been working opposite sides of a business case for the better part of a year. He thinks his title and the fact that he can grow an impressive beard makes him better than the rest of the population. He's probably standing against the floor to ceiling windows of his fortieth floor Seattle office right now, looking down on the city like a demigod.

A couple months ago, Barry and I got into a heated argument after a court hearing. I got angry and threw my phone. The bailiff was collateral damage. The judge only saw bits and pieces, but he filed a bar complaint against me for disrespecting his courtroom. He missed the part where Barry was jabbing his finger repeatedly into my chest and falsely accusing me of destroying evidence.

"I need to find out what Barry's been telling people." I pick up my receiver.

"No. You need to calm down," Rebecca says, pulling the receiver from my hand and cradling it. She points to the chair behind me, suggesting I take a seat. "Barry will accuse you of intimidating witnesses. We need you on your best behavior." She leans in a little closer and looks me square in the eye. "Best. Behavior," she repeats. Now I’m a puppy in behavioral school.

I blow out a lungful of stale air. I take a seat and slump into my chair.

"Finn." Rebecca's gaze turns soft. "You ok?"

"I’m fine, Rebecca.”

Rebecca crosses her arms and tilts her head as she puzzles over me. I hate this part. The part where people try to figure out how to fix me. Nothing can fix me. Nothing can fix the fact that my favorite person in the world is gone. If everyone could just leave me alone and let me be fucking miserable, life would be so much easier.

Rebecca leans closer and peers into my face. Her eyebrows press together in confusion. “Finn, what happened to your lip?”

“Nothing.” I wave her away.

“Are you drinking again?”

“Christ, no.” I roll my chair back, eager to put distance between me and the studious way she’s reading me like a textbook.

“I know Friday was Laurel’s birthday,” Rebecca says softly. “I was in depositions all day. I never got a chance to ask how you were doing. Does that have something to do with the way you’re acting today?” Her voice is kind and her face is wrinkled with concern.

"And how, exactly, am I acting?" I spin my chair to face the wall, trying to avoid Rebecca’s eyes. Even as the words come out, I realize how much I sound like Ruby.

"You keep stomping to the copier like it's grievously wronged you. And you threatened Robby."

"The FedEx guy has a name now?"

" Robby ," Rebecca repeats.

"Rebecca. Don't name them. Once you name them, you can't get rid of them," I mutter.

"You're so ridiculous." Rebecca laughs.

"It's ok if you're not, you know…" she hedges. I realize I've been quiet for a beat too long.

"Not what?"

"Not fine," she prods. My response is a stern warning glare in her direction. Because I'm getting tired of people asking me that.

"I’m fine," I growl out.

She looks at me suspiciously. Like I just proved her point. "Did you know that I'm fine is the most frequently told lie in the English language?"

"Are you going to start cross examining me?"

"Only if you become a hostile witness."

I give her a half-hearted smile. After Laurel died, Rebecca was there for me. A lot. My long commute into the city was just too difficult with two young kids. Rebecca resigned from her partner track at a big law firm and we started our own practice. I was thankful for all the work and energy that went into starting a business. I needed something productive to do as my life swirled down the toilet. Starting this law firm might have been what saved me. I owe her.

Rebecca is about to say something, but she's interrupted by a knock on my door.

"Come in," I yell to the door.

When it opens, Ann pops her head in again.

"Hey," Ann says tentatively. "Sorry to interrupt, but aren't you supposed to be heading to court?”

"Oh shit." I check my watch and see that, yes, I am supposed to be in court. In twenty minutes. I slam my laptop shut and shove it into my briefcase along with a three-ring binder. I wave Ann and Rebecca off as I jog through the office.

“Try not to suck,” Jane calls to my fleeing back. That little ….

But I'm already out the front door and running to the parking lot. I pause in front of two vehicles that couldn’t be any more different. One is a shiny, white BMW convertible. And the other is a beaten up minivan. The van is a metallic silver color and the front bumper is being held on with zip ties.

Unfortunately, I get in the minivan.