The Last Alibi

56

Shauna

Monday, July 8

“This is a case about incompetency and inefficiency in our city government,” I say, standing at my desk in my office at close to midnight. “This is a case about inefficient and incompetent bureaucrats who were given a job-to hire a construction company to renovate the civic auditorium-but who were totally unwilling and unable to properly prepare for the job. And when it turned out they hadn’t adequately prepared, hadn’t properly informed that construction company about all sorts of structural problems with the existing building and all sorts of problems below ground that affected the structure, it became a game of hear no evil, see no evil. It became anyone’s fault but theirs. It became my client’s fault, a father-and-son operation that’s done business for over thirty years with hardly a blemish on their record.”

I close my eyes and let that sink in. The recent problems the city’s had with the new garbage and waste-hauling contracts have grown more prominent by the day, soaking up the headlines in the Herald. Just today, in fact, Mayor Champion fired the head of Streets and San. So I’m hoping this theme finds a soft landing with my jury. If they live within the city limits, they’ll immediately think about this scandal. If they live in the near suburbs, they’re probably already inclined to think the worst of city employees.

I rub my eyes. I can’t do this anymore. I can hardly concentrate anyway. Why did I pick today to have it out with Jason? And why the hell didn’t he fight me when I told him to pack his stuff and get out? Why did he just accept it without a word? So now I’m alone at work, too? It’s not enough that I’m alone in my personal life, I have to be alone in the professional world, too?

I drop into my chair. I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of cold beds and pretending that I love my independence. I’m tired of telling myself how proud I am that I haven’t settled for any of those nimrods who think I’m supposed to spread my legs for them because they went to Princeton undergrad or they wear hundred-dollar ties or once worked on the Hill. I’m tired of men who assume that they’re smarter than me because they were born with a penis and me with a vagina, and the moment they realize the scale is tipped the other way, they lose interest.

I’m tired of assuming I’ll have kids. I won’t. It’s time to see that, ma’am, because them are the facts. I’m thirty-five and a galaxy far, far away from a relationship with anyone even remotely-

The front door to our office pops open. Security checks in at night, but the security guy came through an hour ago. And they routinely announce themselves right away, so they won’t send a thrill of terror up the spine of someone working late at night, like me.

“Hello?” I shout.

Footsteps coming my way. I get out of my chair.

“Hey.” Jason stands in the doorway, looking haggard and disheveled, his collar open and his tie missing altogether.

The stranger danger adrenaline subsides, replaced with the Jason adrenaline, a seesaw of emotion.

He didn’t just pack his stuff and leave quietly. He came back.

“How’s your opening coming along?”

“How’s my opening coming along. . how’s my opening coming along.” I drop my head and make a noise. “Is that what you came here to ask me?”

“No.” He looks down the hallway toward his office, like he’s about to walk away. Since when have we been unable to communicate? When did that happen?

“Sometimes,” he says, still facing the hallway. “Sometimes I wonder if I still want to do this. Be a lawyer. I’m not totally sure I do anymore.”

“Okay,” I say gently, soothingly, but inside it’s like a dagger to my heart.

“But. . I do know one thing.” He turns to me. “As long as I practice law, I want to do it with you. I love you, girl.”

My eyes instantly well up. I come around the desk but stop short of him. “Okay,” I say, choking out the word. I’m not going to cry. I’m not. Maybe I am.

His expression softens. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I say.

His eyebrows curl in, serious-face. “About this other thing-”

“Shut up. I don’t want to talk about that now.”

He takes a deep breath and nods. “Okay. Well, so. .” He gestures to the hallway. “I should probably-”

“Stay,” I say.

“Oh. You want some company?”

“I want you.”

To stay. Finish the sentence. I want you to stay. Not just, I want you.

“You. . want me?”

“I want you,” I say again, and then my mouth is on his, my hand in his hair, and for an instant, for an insane, horrifying instant, I think that he’s going to draw back, reject me, and if he does we’ll never be the same, nothing will ever be the same, and then he kisses me hard and he lets out that moan, Jason’s moan, and then he yanks my blouse out of my skirt and runs his hands underneath, and then we’re tearing at our clothes and his rib cage is so prominent, skeletal, but he’s still Jason, big and strong Jason, with Jason’s soapy smell, Jason’s big hands, and we fall to the ground, right there in the threshold between my office and the hallway, and he rolls me over and my head bangs against the door and we both laugh and then he’s on top of me, running his hands everywhere, his tongue on my neck, then lower, then he’s pumping hard and moaning, and I close my eyes and grip the back of his hair and cry out into his ear-

“Wow,” he says, falling over me when it’s over, panting, his heart beating against my shoulder.

“Wow,” I agree.

He rises up and sits on the carpet, facing me, his hair all in his face, stuck with sweat. And there I am, up on my elbows on the office carpet, my skirt hiked up, panties curled around one ankle, semen dripping down my leg.

“Where did that. .” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to. But he could smile. He could look pleased. He could look moderately happy.

“I’m not sure,” I say. Then I say, “Maybe I just needed to release some stress.” Playing defense, giving him an out, giving myself an out. Hating myself. Lobbing the ball gently onto his side of the court.

“Yeah, right.” He isn’t smiling. He isn’t saying, I’ve always loved you, Shauna. He isn’t saying, This feels right.

Maybe Alexa was right. He never picked you. You went a couple of rounds with him over the years, but somehow, he never picked you, did he?

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I say. Despising myself. When did I become such a coward?

“Yeah, no, I. . I mean, it was great,” he says.

I scrunch up my face. That was great, the high school senior said to the other high school senior. See how far we’ve come! Maybe we can talk about R.E.M. music next.

“I should probably get back to my opening,” I say. “And you should go home to Alexa.”

We put our clothes back on in silence, no eye contact. He gets himself together and isn’t sure what to do. At this point, if he tries to give me the obligatory kiss, I’m going to vomit, so I walk back around my desk like I’m about to start reciting my opening again right away.

“Shauna,” he says.

I make a point of shuffling some papers before I look up, my eyebrows raised, holding back emotional responses that are aching to come out.

“Yes, Jason, what?”

“I just. .” He thinks it over a moment, his jaw working but no words.

“Yes, Jason?”

His expression softens. He lifts his shoulders. “Just wanted to say, good luck tomorrow. Which courtroom?”

“It’s 2106.” As if either of us believes he’s going to stop by to watch.

“Good, great. You want me to walk you to your car?”

“Security will. I’m fine. I’m going to stay a while longer.” I finger-comb my hair, try to compose myself.

He nods. “Don’t stay too late,” he says. “You know when you’re on trial, you always stay up too-”

“Jason, you should go,” I say, not interested in his attempt to recapture some intimacy. Even our associate, Bradley, knows I deprive myself of sleep while on trial. If that’s the best he can do, he should hit the road. And that’s clearly the best he’s going to do tonight. Ever.

He didn’t pick you.

“Okay. Good luck.” He taps the door and exits.

And just like that, our conversation went from I love you, girl to a Grand Canyon between us. I clean myself up with some tissues, feeling like a two-dollar whore. Well, I wanted him to fuck me, and he sure did fuck me.

I take a deep breath and steel myself. “This is a case about incompetency and inefficiency in our city government,” I say, before my throat chokes closed.