Struck from the Record (9 page)

“What?” she cried.

“I’m breaking up with you. I should have done it two years ago when you slept with that stranger, but I didn’t.”

“Marcus, that was forever ago, and we weren’t even
officially
dating yet. Plus,
you’ve
slept with someone else since then!” she snapped.

Suddenly, it was like Clay was intruding on two years of pent-up anger. He leaned back against the desk, crossed his arms, and wished he had popcorn for the show.

“Don’t bring that shit up like you know what you’re talking about, Gi,” Marcus said.

“I know
exactly
what I’m talking about, and I’m tired of it. You can’t come in here and yell at me for having someone in my office when I had no control over the situation, and then go around, accusing me of doing something you have been doing for most of our relationship!”

“Fine, I’m done.” Marcus turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Gigi glared at Clay. “Look what you fucking did.”

Then, she ran out of the room after the guy, leaving Clay all alone in her office, still starving.

He grumbled and then sank back into a chair. He figured it’d be better to wait for her. And it was.

She came back about ten minutes later. No tears marred her cheeks. She just looked sad and frustrated.

“So…that didn’t go so well?”

She didn’t even glance at him. “No.”

“Long time coming?”

She shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Cool. How about a double shot of Grey Goose at lunch?”

Her eyes finally found him. “You’re an ass.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”

Gigi reached down and picked up a black purse off the ground. She hoisted it onto her shoulder and said, “You’re buying.”

“It’s a date.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

Chapter 8

SMALL DICK

Lunch was uneventful.

Clay wasn’t much of a comforter to begin with, and Gigi looked like the last thing she wanted was for someone to comfort her. In fact, she seemed more like the type of girl to drown herself in alcohol instead of talking about her problems. And that was exactly what she did. The double shot of vodka had multiplied to the point where he actually had to cut her off. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever done that for someone before. But, Christ, they still had work to do that afternoon.

“I don’t want to go back,” Gigi said. She had her hand on her forehead. “I can’t stand another grueling day in that building.”

“You don’t like it?” he asked. He had just paid the check and was trying to urge her out of her seat.

“Oh, I fucking love it. Why else would I have gotten a hundred thousand dollars in debt to slave away at a crazy mega firm? I mean…you have to be insane to want this.”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m shocked you’re doing it. Can’t you just ride the connection train to get whatever you want?” she slurred slightly.

Clay’s brow furrowed as they exited the pub.

“You’re a Maxwell after all.”

“Yeah, I guess I could,” he said stiffly.

She didn’t need to know that he was doing this for a specific reason. She was kind of drunk, and he was supposed to be shadowing her for the next couple of weeks. He didn’t normally mix business with pleasure. He’d made exceptions, but none of them had ended well. Made it easier when he didn’t have to remember their names.

“Oh, ho!” she slurred. “Want to make a name for yourself without Daddy’s help then? I saw how you reacted when Marcus”—she hiccuped over his name—“mentioned your brother.”

“Let’s not talk about him.”

She nodded. “Marcus is a dick.”

“Small Dick.”

She laughed and nodded. “Not entirely inaccurate.”

“No dude can wear skinny jeans like that if he’s packing.”

Clay managed to get her into the passenger seat of his Porsche. He was glad that he’d driven. It wasn’t often when he was the responsible one. This was a weird change, as if he’d somehow stepped into a parallel universe of his life.

Gigi babbled on the entire way back to the office. It wasn’t far, but he hadn’t wanted to walk outside in the fucking frigid temperature. D.C. always turned bitter cold right before the inauguration, and he wasn’t looking forward to standing outside through that shit again.

Clay parked his car and killed the engine when he realized Gigi must have said something to him. “What?”

She trailed her finger down his face. “You’re handsome.”

He smirked. “I know.”

“Jerk,” she said halfheartedly. “You’re a mistake, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said because he recognized that, in this instance, it was true.

Gigi was hot. But she wasn’t some casual acquaintance. He’d have to see her every day. He’d have to work with her on cases.

Plus…Andrea.

A smile crooked onto his face at the thought of her. Even if they were on rocky terms, that didn’t mean he wanted to make the same mistake she’d made with Bad Suit. He didn’t want a relationship. He’d already seen what one looked like, thanks to Gigi and Small Dick. He already had one that was perfect just the way it was.

So, he acted like the dick she expected. “I don’t like pantsuits.”

She jolted slightly. “Well, you can take it off.”

Damn
. “I’m not interested,” he said tersely.

“Yes, you are.”

Yes, I am. Damn, how did I turn a hot chick down?

“Just because your boyfriend broke up with you doesn’t mean that you need to spread your legs for the first guy who is nice to you,” he said cruelly.

Her eyes hardened, and she straightened immediately. She jerked the car door open and was already halfway across the parking garage when he got out of the car. The elevator took long enough that he caught up with her.

All the humor was gone from her face. She stepped into the elevator and turned to stare straight into Clay’s face. “You work on your cases; I’ll work on my cases. Otherwise, you can go to hell.”

The door slid closed, and he sighed.
Jesus Christ!
This was going to be a fucking shitty situation. He’d known he shouldn’t have listened to his dad about the law firm.

The next week was miserable. Gigi acted as if he didn’t exist. Not that he gave a fuck, but it made it difficult to do anything when he was supposed to be working with her. This was why he didn’t get involved with people at work. They made shit complicated. It didn’t have to be complicated.

By the time Friday rolled around, Clay was fucking ready to get out of the place. The office closed around four o’clock, but he knew enough people would be working well into the night and some even during the long weekend. But not him. Not yet at least.

Clay sent a text to his friends, Ethan and Cash, and headed out the door.

Drinks tonight?

Gigi walked into the elevator next to him. She crossed her arms and avoided looking at him. He didn’t know what her deal was. So, he’d turned her down. She’d been pretty demanding about wanting to fuck him. As far as he was concerned, he’d done her a favor. She didn’t need to be a bitch about it.

“You’re taking over your own cases on Monday. I just spoke with Mr. Cooper,” she snapped.

“So, she does speak,” he drawled.

She glared at him. “And you shouldn’t.”

Clay shrugged. Lately, everyone had been blowing things way out of proportion.

“You know, I thought you were a nice guy when I met you at the bar that first day, but I should have known better after you punched Marcus. Not sure why it took me so long to realize it when you showed back up.”

“You were drunk. I don’t fault you for not being coherent.”

Gigi rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She seemed determined not to say anything again.

He climbed into his Porsche and drove the twenty minutes to his bachelor townhouse downtown. Then, he called a cab to take him to the bar. As much as he enjoyed showing up places with his Porsche, drinking and driving wasn’t high on his list. If he never had to go to the hospital again, that would be fine by him.

Soon, he was at a local bar, The Hill. It was aptly named for its location but nothing else. The place was dingy, and he knew of the dirty things that happened after-hours when congressmen and their interns would leave for the evening. He’d seen it all on Capitol Hill.

It was a place that Andrea would never frequent. It was one of the reasons Ethan and Cash liked it—though the easy female patrons were probably the biggest one.

“Clay!” Ethan said. He grabbed Clay’s hand and shook it forcefully. His dark hair brushed over his forehead, and he flicked his head to get it out of his eyes. “It’s been fucking forever, man.”

“Just a couple of weeks.”

Cash approached from the other side. “How’s the old ball and chain?” he asked, jokingly elbowing Clay in the side.

Clay tried not to wince.
Douche
. “Andrea is the same as ever.”

“She still trying to get you to stop fucking around?” Cash asked.

“Andrea has never cared about who I’ve slept with,” he said with a grin. “Why would she start caring now?”

“Fuck if I know,” Cash said. He wrapped his hand around a beer and shoved it into Clay’s hand.

Even though these guys had gone through law school with him, it wasn’t as if they were his confidants. He couldn’t tell them that Andrea actually had been acting weird, like she cared about who he fucked. He didn’t get it. But Ethan was more intuitive and slightly less of a douche bag, so he seemed to understand that Clay was bluffing about the statement. That was probably because he was one of the guys who’d gotten divorced during law school.

Andrea hadn’t really even been around this week. Normally, Clay wouldn’t have even noticed. He’d usually just stay in the city, and they’d live their own lives. But ever since New Year’s, he’d been heading back to their house, surprised to find it empty or, to his chagrin, Andrea there but distant.

He wasn’t a total idiot. He knew something was up with her. He just didn’t want to try to fix what wasn’t broken. And he had a feeling that was what she wanted.

“We don’t need to worry about that hot piece of ass you have waiting for you at home,” Cash announced. “Let’s find some for you here.”

Ethan laughed. “Shouldn’t be hard. Clay isn’t picky.”

“Neither are you two dipshits,” Clay growled.

He really wasn’t picky. He liked them hot and leggy. Blonde and skinny. But he’d take just hot. Hot worked for him.

“I need it after this chick I’ve been working with at Cooper and Nielson. Her boyfriend broke up with her, so she thought I’d fuck a pantsuit. She’s been frigid ever since.”

“Frigid is not worth the effort,” Cash drawled. He leaned his bulky build back against the bar and downed half of his Bud Light without blinking. He was a huge guy from southern Georgia with dark hair that he frequently let grow out too long for D.C. standards.

“Not worth your effort at least,” Ethan interjected.

“Yeah, well, we don’t want to end up like Ethan fucking his boss.”

“You still doing that?” Clay asked.

Ethan shrugged but smiled nonchalantly. “Every now and then.”

“Only when her husband is out of town,” Cash said.

Clay laughed along with his friends. He never would have guessed Ethan would be the one fucking the boss. Seemed much more like Cash to him, but Ethan must like it to be going back for more.

Over the next hour, Clay let the long week of work fall off his shoulders. His life had been stressful ever since the attack, and it was nice to just let the grind go and hang out with his friends.

A group of girls turned up in the bar at one point, and Cash dived right in. He had none of the sly, sexy game that Clay exuded. He was an act-first-think-later type, but girls tended to like that. Unlike Ethan. Clay had always said that his game was that he had no game. Ethan would pick up chicks most nights without even realizing that was what he was doing.

Cash seemed to have automatically zeroed in on the brunette ringleader, but Clay’s eyes were drawn to the cute redhead to the girl’s left. A cute redhead wasn’t his normal MO, but he liked the way she kept shooting furtive looks his way. He could work with that.

Plus, he knew that if he didn’t approach her now, he’d lose out to Ethan, who had a major thing for gingers. They were his kryptonite. Just as Ethan was about to walk over to Cash, Clay strolled over to the redhead. As he approached, she smiled up at him under hooded blue eyes with long thick lashes.

“Hey,” she breathed.

“Hey yourself.” Clay leaned his side into the bar and smiled his dimpled smile that always brought girls to their knees.

“I’m Bethany.”

“Nice to meet you, Bethany,” Clay purred. He liked the way she breathed in deeply when he’d said her name.

Bethany giggled and averted her gaze. “You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked after a minute of silence.

Shit!

His eyes shot to Cash, who was talking up the brunette and not paying attention.
Did the dipshit know these girls?
This was the biggest fucking issue with frequenting the same bar over and over.

“Don’t worry,” she said, brushing it aside. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Really?”

“I’d just dumped my boyfriend and needed a quickie. You were hot and obliged,” she admitted with a soft pink blush on her cheeks.