19. Tread Carefully

DARREN

Alistair points to the boxes on the floor. "Finally going through your parents" things?" he asks, cautiously.

"Just taking some things back to Georgetown with me."

"You're never going to sell this place, are you?" He looks around the library.

"No."

"So you're really doing it," Alistair comments, lighting up a cigar.

I crack open the patio door of the library letting in the cold November air. "Who are you, Hugh Hefner?"

Alistair crosses an ankle over his knee and puffs on the cigar exaggeratedly.

"Don't deflect. You're studying for the Bar," he points to the textbooks on the desk. "Does this mean you're going to hand over your freedom and join me in wearing a suit and tie?" he challenges, holding the cigar out in front of him to inspect it. "By the way, your father has good taste."

I take a seat behind the desk, running a hand over my face. "Yeah, so?"

"What does that mean?" He takes another puff of the cigar, the smoke billowing around him.

"I don't know what it means. I just know that it's time to quit being angry and do something for myself, and not because I think it will piss off Rausch or my father."

"Spoken like a card-carrying adult," Alistair teases. "But this is big."

"It's time I grow up. My parents aren't coming back and I just… I want more out of life. Even you have a fucking job," I scoff.

"Riding my coattails, Dare?" Alistair teases.

I crumple up a piece of paper on the desk and throw it at him. "Hardly. By the way, Cleo?"

"What can I say? Evangeline has fine friends." He puffs on the cigar while smiling wolfishly as I shake my head.

"Speaking of," Alistair sits up in his chair. "You sent a private jet for her?" he questions, almost offended.

"Nevada is farther away than D.C.," I remind him with an annoyed tone. "Were you expecting your own plane?"

"Of course not," Alistair scoffs. "My point is that a) you brought her here, and b) you sent a private plane."

"Is there some cryptic meaning here that I'm not getting because a) she's Evangeline's friend, and b) it was last minute." I glare at him.

"The point is you seem to be doing a lot of things for Evangeline lately." Alistair takes a puff of the cigar and cocks a skeptical eyebrow.

I gesture for him to continue.

"A little birdie told me you gave her a private viewing of a priceless artifact at the National Archives Museum." He gives me a smug smile and then tries to make a smoke ring.

"If you're referring to the Emerson letters, then I'm guessing Bethany told Caroline and it became dinner gossip at the Van der Walt home?" I speculate, already knowing the answer.

"D.C. is a very small town, Darren."

As if I don't already know that. "I wanted to make up for what I did to get her here," I impart with a shrug.

"Are you sure it's nothing more than your guilty conscience?" Alistair asks, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I question, with a bit of edge to my tone.

Alistair shrugs, tapping the cigar against the ashtray. "Evangeline is a very beautiful woman. Exceptional, really. But I think you're letting that five-million-dollar pussy work its way into more than just your bed."

Alistair is my friend and he means well. "I would tread carefully if I were you, Alistair," I warn.

He throws his hands in the air in mock surrender, his brows furrowed. "You know I only want good things for you," he explains, "but what happens when the contract is up?"

"About that." I get up from the chair and walk over to the patio doors looking out at the dock, Evangeline's blonde hair visible in the distance as she and Cleo sit in the Adirondack chairs. They look to be in deep conversation.

"I want you to do something for me." I turn to face him.

Alistair leans forward, all playfulness wiped from his face.

"I want you to put the money in an account for her." I walk across the room.

He looks a little too excited at the prospect. "I can do that."

"And give her access to it now."

Alistair raises his eyebrows. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Very much." I stop in front of the bookcase.

My father has an extensive library, ranging from history to poetry. I pluck one off the shelf and inspect it.

"Darren, as your friend, I would advise against this. You give her access to the money, she'll take it and leave."

"You don't know her!" I argue.

"You think because she looks at you like you're her savior she's gonna become a D.C. socialite?" Alistair protest.

"I'm nobody's savior, Alistair!" I run a hand through my hair. "I should have never got her fired in the first place. At least this way I can make up for it."

"I get that you feel guilty, but just giving her five million dollars?" Alistair snuffs out the cigar and stands.

"It was the agreement, and it's always been the agreement. What does it matter if she has it now or at the end of the year?" I raise my voice.

"The difference is you." He points at me. "You're different."

"Isn't that a good thing?" I place the book back on the shelf. "It's because of her that I'm different. It's because of her that I don't want to waste my life anymore."

"And I get that, but are your expectations the same as hers?" Alistair raises the question.

In my head my expectations are exactly where they should be – that this is a good thing, this will make sense in the long run because I'm creating a future for myself. But what will that future look like and with who, I don't know. Does anybody know that for certain?

"I'm not delusional, but I also don't have crystal ball, Alistair. I don't know what's going to happen. I only know what I don't want to happen, and I'm making steps to ensure that," I rebuke. "I cannot live in my parents shadow any longer."

"That's all very inspirational, but I don't want you to get taken advantage of." His expression softens and he adds in a quiet tone, "I don't want you to see you get hurt."

I grab him by the shoulders. "I appreciate it, more than you know, but it's what I want. Can you just do that for me?"

Alistair nods. "Anything, Dare. You know that."

I nod, letting him go and turning back to the desk.

"And no offense, Alistair, but you"re the last person I'd take advice from, especially coming from someone who's trying to bed his boss," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

"None taken, but you know I've always had a fondness for older women," Alistair concedes, making his way over to the desk and looking at the pile of law books and journals. "Do you think Judge Hoskins will take you back as his clerk?"

"I think that ship sailed when you defiled his only daughter and got me fired," I emphasize.

"She was worth it," Alistair winks.

"For who?" I laugh. "Besides, I don't want to be a trial lawyer anyway." Getting fired from Hoskins clerkship was a blessing. I'd only done it to appease my father, but I had no interest in the court system.

"Then I did you a favor and that means you owe me."

I laugh and shake my head. "I don't think it works like that."

"What kind of lawyer are you going to be?"

I clasp my hands behind my back while I walk behind the desk. I'd been thinking about that for a while now. "I don't know yet. I just have to pass the Bar first, and then I'll figure it out."

"If I can pass the exam to get my series seven, then I'm sure you can pass the Bar because let's face it, I was never a good student, and you never lived up to your potential," he reminds me.

I laugh and sit on the edge of the desk with my arms crossed over my chest. I've taken the last two days off studying because of the holiday and having guests, but I find myself itching to get back at it again.

"February will be here before I know it," I sigh, picking up one of the law books and turning it over in my hand. "I will not be one of those fucks who has to take the Bar three times to pass like Rori Colton." I drop the book back on the desk making a loud slap noise.

"Who's Rori Colton?" Alistair takes a seat in one of the chairs.

"He's the candidate Rausch is backing to take my father's empty seat in Congress."

"You knew this would happen," he reminds me.

I sit behind the desk, picking up a pen and turning it over between my fingers. "Do you ever feel like life is happening around you, but you're not part of it?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

I set the pen down and rest my forearms on the desk. "Our whole lives have been planned out for us - what preschool we went to, Cotillions, charity events, and Georgetown," I scoff. "We were legacies. It was shoved down our throats of what a privilege it was, and maybe it was, but legacy only means that you don't have a choice."

"I don't disagree, Dare," Alistair laughs.

"You were always better at accepting your fate than I was."