Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86367 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“I’ll call her right away,” I assure him. “I’ll let you know.”
“You do that,” he says, hanging up on me.
I hang my head for a moment, trying not to kick myself in the ass just yet. There is one more important phone call that has to be made. I press the button for my assistant, Tanya, who picks up right away. “Can you come here, please?” I ask her, and she is at my door before I hang up. “Please close the door.”
She comes in, closing the door behind her and stands there looking worried. “There is no easy way to say this, and I can’t bury my head in the sand. I fucked up on the Phillips brief I sent to Judge King.” I say the words, and she gasps out in shock because I don’t make fucking mistakes.
“If you can call from here?” I ask her and she nods her head, coming over to my side of the desk and picking up the phone.
She knows I’m a stickler for knowing everything, so she puts it on speakerphone, and I whisper, “Thank you.”
She smiles sadly at me, making my stomach feel even worse. “Judge King’s office.”
“Hi, Brenda, it’s Tanya Digirmo from Ryleigh Beckett’s office.” She looks down at the phone.
“Hi, Tanya, how are you?” Her voice is cheerful.
“I could be better. I’m sorry to request this at the last minute, however this is urgent and I need to schedule an emergency hearing.” My hands tremble when she asks to schedule the hearing, now not only will my entire office know that I fucked up, it’s going on record that I fucked up. “It’s regarding an error that was discovered in the trial brief filed regarding the Robert Phillips case. The case number is JF325386.”
“Oh,” she says, “I can schedule the hearing at eight forty-five a.m.”
“Thank you.” I take a huge deep inhale, swallowing down the bile that worked its way up. She hangs up the phone.
“Thank you, Tanya,” I say softly. “Can you close the door on your way out?”
She walks out without asking me another question, leaving me with my eyes on the brief open in front of me. The emotions that come out of me are all over the fucking place. I’m pissed I’ve put not only myself but also my team in this position. I’m angry with myself for worrying about things I shouldn’t even be thinking about. I close my eyes, the stinging of tears coming to me, but I push them away. There is no time for feeling sorry for myself. I have too much to do, but the first thing I do is correct the mistake in the brief.
Then I start prepping for the trial. I don’t step out of my office the whole day, and finally, when my stomach rumbles, I get up, seeing that it’s just after eight o’clock. I grab my things and leave the office since I’m the last one in there. When I’m in the car, I see Stone has tried to call me twice and sent three messages.
I pull it up and respond.
Me: Major fuckup today. Have an emergency hearing in court. I’ll call you when I can.
I look out the window, hating that I want him here so I can talk to him, then mad at myself because if I wasn’t so focused on him, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
I get home at the same time my dinner arrives and eat it at the counter before heading to bed. I barely sleep that night, getting up before my alarm and going into the closet. I take off his T-shirt before grabbing my dark blue pants and a white silk button-up top with a baby-blue jacket. I put on my low-heeled shoes and grab my bag on the way out. The phone vibrates in my hand, and I look down.
SR: I am so sorry. I hope you have a better day today. Let me know if I can do anything.
I don’t answer him. Instead, I put my phone in my bag and pray that I won’t throw up in the middle of court. The whole time I’m in the car, all I can do is try to control my breathing. I breathe in and out, my chest tightens, making me clear my throat a couple of times. My hands are clammy, and I’m sure my knees are fucking weak. But I have to push all that aside and walk in there with my head held high. I rush toward the courtroom, gripping the bag in my hand as tight as I can. My nails dig into my palms as I make my way over to the courtroom.
Pulling open the door and seeing the courtroom empty, I walk up to my side of the courtroom, putting my bag beside my chair. I don’t know how long I’m in here because all I can do is tell myself to calm down. At this point, my armpits are fucking sweating, and it’s pushing heat to rise up the back of my neck. The door opens and the defendant’s lawyer walks in, looking at me and nodding before heading to his side of the courtroom. “Morning, Ms. Beckett.”