Chapter Text
The office of Brenner, Dunn, and Associates was kept at a cool 67 degrees at all times, but that didn’t stop the sweat forming on the back of Elora’s neck. She sighed, bringing her thumbnail to her mouth, cursing when she realized she had bitten it to the quick. In fact, in the last hour, she had managed to bite all her nails to the quick. And she had been trying to quit for weeks. There goes that then.
“So, what are you going to do?” the front desk receptionist Angie asked, gathering her bright red hair into a claw clip.
“I don’t know, Angie! She is going to fire me. Then I’m going to lose my apartment, and I am going to have to move back in with my mother.”
“Maybe it won’t be that bad? Maybe she’ll take mercy on you,” the managing partner’s assistant Collete said, leaning against the front desk.
“Mercy?” Elora sneered. Her boss wasn’t exactly cruel, but she was exacting. She held Elora to the extremely high standard she held herself to. Making a mistake this costly was not going to go unpunished.
“How did this even happen?” Elora whined, twisting her hands in her hair. “I swore I checked the calendar invite three times!”
Angie’s desk phone rang and she held up a finger, answering it. “Okay, okay. Thank you, Jess.” She hung up the phone and looked up at Elora, her eyes filled with pity. “She’s… here. She just got in the elevator.”
Shit. Shit shit shit!
The group of assistants watched as the floor indicator on the wall counted up from 1, as if counting the seconds until Elora’s certain demise.
Then, the elevator door dinged, and Melanie Medarda stepped out, slipping her sunglasses off and putting them in her Birkin bag. She wore a black pencil skirt and button-down, and her classic Louboutin heels clicked loudly on the linoleum floor. Elora gulped.
“Hi Melanie,” Elora squeaked.
“Hello. Did you get my coffee?” Melanie said, quickly striding past Angie’s desk. Elora rushed to follow her.
“Yes, it's on your desk. I also brought you a bagel with low-fat cream cheese as well.”
“Thank you. Do I have any messages?”
“No, not at the moment, but… well…”
Melanie stopped and Elora careened forward, stopping just short of knocking right into her. Mel whipped her head around, her eyes narrowed softly in confusion. Elora felt like she was going to pee herself.
“Well, what?” Melanie asked impatiently.
“It’s… the Henderson case?”
“What about the Henderson case?”
“I don’t know what happened Melanie. I swear, that meeting was set for 11 a.m. for months but now–”
“What time is the meeting?” Melanie asked.
Elora’s lip trembled. “Um–”
Melanie stepped forward. “What. Time. Is. The. Meeting?” she said slowly, enunciating each syllable.
“It started at 8 a.m. ma’am,” Elora mumbled.
Melanie’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I don’t know. I got here and it was already underway. I am so sorry, Melanie. I don’t know what happened I–”
Melanie put her hand up and Elora snapped her mouth shut. “Which conference room?”
“714,” Elora whispered.
Melanie nodded and started walking again, this time so fast that Elora could barely keep up. “Okay. Please confirm my dinner reservation for Salazars at 8. Did you remember to secure my hotel for the night?”
“Yes ma’am,” Elora said.
“Good, thank you. Also, follow up with Jason about the briefs for the Johnson merger, please.” Elora nodded, pulling out her phone to take hurried notes. “Oh, and Elora?”
“Yes?” Elora asked.
Melanie turned around, her eyes cold. “Don’t let something like this happen again.”
Elora nodded softly.
Melanie stopped in front of Conference Room 714 and pulled the door open, letting it shut behind her. Elora deflated, leaning against the wall next to the conference room door with a hand over her quickly beating heart.
–
“Oh, Melanie! Nice of you to finally join us!”
Mel’s lips formed a tight line. “Hello Michael, Will,” she said, nodding at her opposing counsel. Will was an older man, the kind that most likely had a Punisher bumper sticker on the back of his lifted truck. He had a frustrating habit of calling Mel “sweetheart” and “darling,” and it was extremely hard not to glare at him every time he did. Michael was younger; accomplished, but still green, hanging off of every word Will said. He was nice enough, but he didn’t have much of a backbone.
And that left her co-counsel Marcus on the opposite side of the table, who had been promoted to Partner in the summer. He had a horribly annoying habit of disagreeing with everything Mel said, even if it was just a comment on the weather. She walked over to the opposite side of the table and sat in the chair next to Marcus’s, pushing it so close to him she could feel the fabric of his blazer brush her arm.
“I apologize for my tardiness,” Mel said pointedly. “My assistant got the time wrong, apparently.” She looked at Marcus, who looked away.
“It’s so hard to find good help right now,” Marcus muttered in an unsteady voice, cracking his hands under the table. Obvious bullshit. Mel wasn’t sure she had ever met a worse liar.
“No matter!” Michael said. “We were actually just about to wrap this up. We have a deal.”
“Oh?” Mel asked, cocking her head.
Will slid the settlement papers toward Mel. She flipped through them, skimming her way through the document. As she skimmed, something caught her eye. She almost missed it: a section written just vaguely enough to be ignored, but would have surely costed their client a hefty sum if accepted. She cast an appraising glance at her opposing counsel. They were good. Very good. Finally, she hummed, setting the papers down. “And we’ve agreed to this?”
“Well, not yet. We still need your approval, of course.” Michael said, a duplicitous grin plastered on his face.
Mel smiled, placing her hands in front of her on the table. Clearly, whatever they had come to do was already done. “Ah, well. I will let you know my answer by 11.” She cast another sideways glance at Marcus. She had no idea why out of all the associates, a fool like him would get promoted. She pushed her chair back from the conference table and stood. “Thank you, boys,” she said, sauntering out of the office and letting the door shut behind her.
–
“You denied the settlement!?” Marcus yelled, pushing his way into her office.
“I am so sorry Melanie,” Elora said, trailing behind him. “I told him that you were unavailable but…”
Mel flicked her hand. “It’s okay Elora. What can I do for you, Marcus?”
“I spent weeks trying to get that deal, and you denied it behind my back?”
“I seem to recall you doing something similar this morning. Elora may be neurotic, but she isn’t incompetent. Sit down.” Marcus looked like steam could come out of his ears at any moment. He stood for a short while with his hands on his hips, as if considering whether or not to obey the request. Mel sighed, cocking her head at him. “Please,” she said, holding out her hand.
Marcus took a seat in the chair opposite her.
“Do you know why Henderson Global came to us?” Mel said, walking over to her side table. She picked up her decanter and poured two glasses of water, setting one in front of Marcus.
“You brought them here.”
“Yes,” Mel said impatiently. “But do you know why they came?”
Marcus didn’t answer.
“It’s because they want the best. They don’t like losing, and I don’t lose. It is a symbiotic relationship in that way.” She put her arm on the desk, leaning over him. “See, Marcus, that deal you made? That joke of settlement that you tried to secure behind my back? It was a show of weakness. Our clients don’t like to be made weak.”
“I think I am able to handle myself. I mean, I did make Partner,” Marcus said. His voice was hard, self-assured, but there was a small bead of sweat developing on his forehead.
Mel rolled the glass of water in her hands. She took a long sip and placed the glass down on her desk.
“Clearly, your ego is writing checks your ability can’t cash. I did you a favor. If you got your way, we would have lost them. Now, you won’t be known as the first Partner in the history of the firm to lose a client on their first case. You should be thanking me.”
Marcus’s eyes bore into her, but he didn’t respond.
“You can leave now,” Mel said flippantly, taking a seat in her office chair.
Marcus chewed on his cheek, his eyes flicking back and forth across the room. Finally, he obeyed, rising out of the chair.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Mel said.
Marcus turned around. His face was splotchy and red, as if he was a moment away from bursting into tears. “Yes?”
“Do not pick another fight with me. It’s not a battle you are going to win.”
Marcus nodded and strode out of her office, closing his door on the way out.
–
The TSA PreCheck line at Dulles was mercifully short when Mel arrived for her flight to Boston Logan International. She managed to make it through in about 5 minutes, and immediately after, she power walked to her gate. She didn’t usually cut it so close when she was flying, but she had suspected that Marcus was up to something for weeks and couldn’t risk taking the day off. She picked up her phone, calling Jayce again. The phone rang a few times, but didn’t connect.
“Hey it’s Jayce. You know what to do,” his voicemail said through the phone speaker. She sighed and boarded her flight.
When she arrived in Boston, she called again, and this time the phone immediately went to voicemail.
“Hey it’s Jayce. You know what to do.”
She wanted to reach into it and throttle him with her bare hands.
She closed the phone app and navigated to Uber, her finger pausing over the Location section. Finally, she typed in Harvard University Research Center. A black camry pulled up to the curb and, after confirming it was her ride, Mel shuffled her bags in and slipped into the backseat. She silently laid her head on the window, watching the city lights pass in a blur beside her. She tapped her finger on her phone, debating whether or not to call Jayce again. Finally, she decided against it. At this point, it was no use.
The Uber slowed to a stop in front of the building, and Mel mumbled a thank you to the driver, tugging her bags behind her. She got out of the car, pulling her coat tighter around her to keep out the Massachusetts cold. Thankfully, the security guard working the building already knew her, and didn’t ask too many questions when she asked for entry to the Lab. Mel knocked on the door impatiently, and Powder answered, her short blue hair sticking up in several directions, her glasses slightly askew.
“Oh, hi Mel!” she said, looking both exhausted and confused. “What, what are you doing here? Oh, happy–”
“Hi Powder. Is Jayce here?” Mel said, cutting her off.
“He’s in his office. But he is really not able to have–”
Mel strode past her, knocking on the office door.
Viktor answered, looking just as haggard and exhausted as Powder was, his eyes deep set and red rimmed.
“Oh, Melanie. Hello.”
“Hi, Viktor. I need to talk to Jayce.” Mel said.
“I–I am going to go check on Powder and Sky,” Viktor said to Jayce, rushing out of the door.
“What are you doing here, Mel?” Jayce asked. His 5-o-clock shadow had grown out a little, and dark circles deepened the skin under his eyes. He was standing in front of a dusty chalkboard covered in equations that filled most of the board.
“I’m here for our dinner?”
Jayce closed his eyes and sighed. “Fuck, Mel. I’m sorry. I just got so caught up with the research and then…”
Mel nodded. “And you then forgot about me.”
“Please, I can make it up to you. It’s just, we are so close to a breakthrough.”
“Like you were close to a breakthrough a year ago? Or the year before that?”
Jayce put his hands up in defeat. “I’m sorry.”
Mel shouldn’t have asked, but she couldn’t help herself. “Do you really want to move to DC with me?”
“What? Of course, I do. When… when the paper is finally finished,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. Bullshit .
Mel laughed. “Oh my god. You, of all people, are lying to me?”
“Mel, I just…”
“Just, what, Jayce?” Mel put her hands out helplessly. “Tell me the truth.”
“Fine, you want to know the truth? I like this. I like my life and I don’t want to leave it. That’s the truth.”
Mel exhaled sharply. “And when were you going to tell me this?”
Jayce looked down. He scratched the back of his neck again.
“Why?” Mel asked.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Jayce said. “But that life, the one where I am a glorified trophy husband? I don’t want that life.”
“Jayce, you would not be a glorified trophy husband. What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on Mel, you know very well that is what I would be signing up for. Kissing babies and rubbing elbows with dignitaries and doing press tours. That is not the life I want. I’m sorry.”
“Wow. Seven years, Jayce,” Mel said, staring at the ceiling. “We have been together for seven years. I wasted seven years of my life and I have to literally bang down your door just for you to tell me you don’t want to do any of the things we planned?”
Jayce put his hands on his hips. "We ? Please Mel, you know very well you are not innocent in all of this.”
“What is that supposed to mean, exactly?”
“I mean,” Jayce said, “I don’t treat my career any different than you do yours. I just don’t expect you to blow up your whole life for me.”
“That’s what you wanted!”
“No, Mel. It’s what you wanted. It’s always been what you wanted. At some point, you convinced me it was what I wanted, but it never was,” Jayce said, rubbing a hand over his face. He took a pause, as if considering whether he should continue. “You use me, you realize that right? You treat me like I’m just this thing you checked off your life plan.”
“I’m–…wow, okay,” Mel said, blinking in disbelief. She felt like all the air in the room was gone. “You know what? Okay, Jayce. If you want to rot away in this room for the rest of your life, that’s fine. But I am going to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly.”
Jayce nodded. “Okay,” he said, dropping his hand back to his side.
“Did you ever plan on actually building a life with me? Were you ever… were you ever going to marry me?” she asked, her voice going soft.
Jayce sighed. “Mel, please can we–”
“No. I have everything I need.”
Mel turned on her heel and opened the door. Powder, Sky, and Viktor scurried away from it, pretending to be preoccupied with their research. She walked out the lab, keeping her gaze laser-focused in front of her. She ordered an Uber Black and scrolled through Tik-Toks on the way to her hotel, saving the funniest videos to send to Caitlyn later. Her hands shook when she placed her key card against the lock and she cursed, willing herself to calm down.
When she arrived at her room, there was a small bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries and a care package with bath salts, a fluffy towel, and a purple silk bonnet, courtesy of Elora. She winced a little, remembering how short she had been with the girl earlier. She picked up the hotel phone and dialed the number for room service, ordering a medium rare filet mignon, a mango passion fruit tart, and a red blend. When her food arrived, she set up the dinner table, filet mignon in the middle, tart on the left, wine glass on the upper right, all aligned perfectly. She contemplated putting on a podcast to distract herself from her thoughts, but listening to it felt like it required too much energy, so she decided to eat in silence instead. She picked up her glass and rolled it in her fingers, staring at the red liquid sloshing around in the cup.
“Happy birthday, Mel,” she said, to no one but herself.
–
Sevika ground her hands into the ropes on the edge of the ring. In the center, Margot tried for a jab, but Vi dodged it, swerving out of the way. Sevika nodded. Good. She had gotten hit the last few times Margot tried that. Vi’s eye was bulging and red, and her nose bloody, but they were halfway through round 9 of 10. It was almost over. If she could just stick it through until the end, there was a high chance she’d win on decision. Vi was a good fighter, fast where Sevika was slow, flexible where Sevika was rigid. She had great technique and precision, and it was rare that she attempted an uppercut that didn’t land. She just had a horribly annoying habit of getting hit in the fucking face.
The buzzer went off, and the referee pulled the fighters away from each other. Vi hobbled back over to the corner of the ring, looking worse for wear.
“Hanging in there?” Sevika asked from outside the ring.
“Barely,” Vi admitted, sitting down at the edge of the ring.
“Hey, you got this,” Sevika said, picking up Vi’s water bottle from the edge of the ring, putting the straw in front of her to drink. After Vi was done, she pulled it away, practically tossing it to the side. She put her hands on Vi’s shoulders.
“I don’t know,” Vi said, head swaying a little. “I feel like I lost control of the situation in that last round.”
“You did,” Sevika admitted. “But Margot is sloppy. She fights dirty, and she’s been racking up penalties since round 5.”
Vi nodded, standing up and turning to face Sevika.
“When Margot tries that jab from the left, I want you to dodge and then feign right. Hit her with an uppercut there. That should get her off balance, buy you some time. And I hate to be like this so late in the game, but you gotta be faster on your defense. You can’t let her box you in.”
Vi nodded again, rolling her shoulders and neck. “Okay, feign right then uppercut. I can do that.”
“Good,” Sevika said. “Just two more minutes and you're golden.”
“Right,” Vi said, nodding profusely. “Two more minutes.”
The referee whistled, and Sevika nodded. “All right, it's all you now.”
“Alright,” Vi said, stepping back out into the center of the ring.
The bell sounded, and Margot descended on Vi, immediately going for a right hook. Vi backpedaled just in time, using the extra space to jab Margot in the chin. She managed to get three good hits in: Jab. Uppercut. Hook. Margot tipped backward, but recovered quickly, bringing her arms back up into blocking position just as Vi went for a left hook that landed on Margot’s left shoulder. Immediately after, Margot jabbed from the left, and, just as Sevika instructed, Vi feigned right, allowing the split second she needed to go in for the uppercut. She went for it, but the very moment she moved her fist from her face, Margot acted, clenching her around the shoulders and hitting her square in the jaw. She released her, and Vi teetered, her head bobbing loosely around her neck.
And just like that, she was down. Sevika grabbed onto the rope so hard she could feel herself losing circulation in her fingers. “Get back up, Vi,” she said through gritted teeth.
But she didn’t get up.
“Okay, ten seconds on the clock,” the referee said. “10.”
“9.”
Please, Vi, get back up.
“8.”
“7.”
“6.”
Come on Vi.
“5.”
“4.”
Vi stirred, and Sevika perked up, only to deflate again when she didn’t move another inch.
“ 3. ”
“ 2. ”
“ 1. ”
Fuck.
Sevika groaned, throwing her hands up as the crowd stirred from behind her. In the ring, one referee held up Margot’s hand, and the other laid a championship belt around her shoulder. Margot nodded proudly, staring right at Sevika as she did. Sevika’s eye twitched.
“Oh my god,” Sevika heard from behind her. She looked back to see Vi’s girlfriend standing there, her hands covering her mouth in shock. She stepped up to the side of the ring. “Can I go in?”
Sevika waved a hand. “Sure.”
Vi’s girlfriend–Caitlyn?–and the match medics went to attend to her, trying desperately to get her up. The girl still didn’t budge. Sevika stepped down from the ring, clenching her jaw. The post-match interview was about to start, and Sevika didn’t have it in her to watch that. To lose was one thing. But to get KO’ed? To not get back up? That was another. She rubbed her face with her hand.
“Hey,” she heard Margot call from behind her. She turned around, jaw set. Margot was still standing in the ring, looking down at Sevika with the belt over her shoulder. Behind her, cameramen stood at attention and interviewers held their mics out for her, but she didn’t seem interested in anyone but Sevika.
Sevika sighed, stepping back up to the ring. “Hi, Margot.”
Under the bright incandescent lights, Margot’s blonde braids were slightly disheveled, and she had a small bruise on her forehead. Other than that, she was fine. Frustratingly, infuriatingly fine.
“It was a good match,” Margot said, putting a hand on Sevika’s shoulder. “She’s good. Just, not as good as you were.”
Sevika grunted in response. Margot smiled, hitching her belt further over her shoulder and walking backward into the crowd with her hands above her head.
At that same moment, the medics carried Vi out of the ring with the help of security. Sevika watched as they put her on the gurney and wheeled past her. Caitlyn followed behind, looking both stricken and a little sick. Sevika sighed, stepping away from the ring and walking in step with the girl. A thought crossed her mind to try to comfort her, but passed as soon as it arrived. In all honesty, she was the main reason why this happened. It was rich of her to stand there crying like she wasn’t.
By the time they got back to the green room, Vi was up. They pushed open the doors and wheeled her in, and Caitlyn followed, her black ponytail whipping behind her as she walked.
“Hi,” Caitlyn said, cradling Vi’s head in her hands. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” Vi mumbled.
Sevika leaned against the door frame. “Hey Vi? Two weeks rest, then we’re back at it every day. 6 a.m. to 8 p.m. No excuses.”
Caitlyn’s head whipped around. “Are you serious? She could be concussed right now. Have some fucking decorum, Sevika.”
“It’s cool, Cait,” Vi mumbled through bruised lips.
“No it’s not!” Caitlyn yelled, and Sevika had to strain to not laugh at how absurd the words sounded in her British accent. Caitlyn walked up to Sevika, coming so close their noses practically touched. “This is your fault. You work her too hard!”
“I make her work hard because that’s what it takes to win. If you understood that, she would have.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Caitlyn asked, her blue eyes hard with fury.
“It means, you are a distraction. She would be better if it weren’t for you.”
Caitlyn jutted out her lip. Sevika closed the distance between them, puffing her chest out. She felt a tugging from her left side and noticed Vi desperately trying to pull them apart. Vi was wobbling and unsteady, but she was finally upright. She looked up at her. “How dare you talk to Caitlyn that way?”
Sevika rolled her eyes. “Sorry, I’m just speaking truth.”
“You know what, Sevika?” Vi said, standing on her tiptoes to reach Sevika’s height. “Get the fuck out.”
“Fine,” Sevika said with a shrug. She pushed both of them away and stepped back through the doorway. She needed a smoke.
She walked through the exit doors, fishing in her pocket for her cigarettes. She grabbed one with her left hand, putting it into her mouth.
Fuck. That was it. For the last fourteen years, her record was fucking perfect. 26 - 0 as a boxer, 5 - 0 as a coach. Well, 5 - 1 as a coach.
She had worked so hard her whole life to never slip up; never falter. She was at the gym before everyone else got there and stayed after everyone left. For years, fighting was the only thing that mattered. She did all that work, had all that discipline and grit, and at the end of it all, none of it mattered. She looked down at her right arm, her dominant arm, the one that was always faster and hit harder and delivered knockouts, and, before she could use her better judgment, turned around and punched the wall with it. Pain shot up through her arm and straight to the back of her head, so badly her skull rattled. She moaned, flicking her right wrist, and sank to the pavement.
She pulled out her lighter, trying desperately to light her cigarette with her left hand, but she forgot to take the safety off earlier, and she didn’t have the dexterity in her left to do it. She laid her head against the wall and closed her eyes, letting the cigarette fall out of her mouth and roll down the alleyway.