Alicia Florrick resisted the urge to punch the nearest reporter in the face, but only barely. She was standing on top of the courthouse steps after just having won an important case, proving that the banker she'd been defending had in fact not committed the fraud he'd been accused of. But of course, the only case the pack of hyenas crowding the steps was interested in was that other big case she'd taken on. Ryan Farris. Never mind that he wouldn't appear in court for another month, and was innocent until proven guilty, the media were out for blood. After all, it wasn't every day that the star pitcher of the Chicago Cougars was accused of killing his wife.
"No comment," she said, pasting a bland expression on her face. The reporter had asked her how she would explain the fact that the alarm system in Farris' penthouse had been activated at the time his wife had been killed, effectively ruling out the possibility of a third person being there with them. It was a question she couldn't even comment on, even if she had wanted to. She didn't know.
Ryan Farris hadn't said anything since the moment, two months ago, when the police had read him his rights and he had confirmed that he understood them. The man had literally said nothing after that. Not one single word. It was almost as if he agreed with the police and the media and just about everyone else out there that the evidence spoke loud enough.
Of course, the evidence did speak very loud. It was almost yelling, in fact. But it spoke against him. The drugs in his blood. The blood on his hands. The alarm system. And of course, the fingerprints on the recently fired gun that had been lying there right next to him. The bullets that had killed Amy Farris had come from that gun. Farris didn't seem to care about all that, however. He just stared off into space whenever he was being interrogated by the police or in meetings with his lawyer. It was driving Alicia nuts. How was she supposed to build a defense around silence?
Alicia started making her way down the stairs, pushing through the crowd as they kept pushing microphones and cameras in her face. She told them the same thing every time they asked her about the Farris case, "No comment." By the time she'd made it all the way down, she was ready to start smashing their expensive equipment into pieces and yell at them to leave her alone already. But of course she didn't do any of that. She just held her head high like she always did, cloaked herself in an air of indifference and strode to the entrance of the underground parking garage across the street.
She stepped into the elevator, releasing a sigh when the closing doors finally separated her from the reporters, relishing the sudden silence that was only interrupted by the monotonous hum of the elevator car making its way down.
Just when Alicia reached the floor where she'd parked her car, the silence was torn apart by her phone chiming from her purse. She was tempted to just let the call go to voicemail, since it was probably just another reporter. But she'd been waiting for an important call, so she sighed and dug up the phone. A small smile came on her face when she saw the caller ID.
"Hi, John," she said, sounding tired even to her own ears.
"Hey, congrats on the win," John Elfman replied. "It was just on the news."
"Really? So the vultures were paying attention to my original statement?"
"Yeah. You look good, by the way. Very… professional."
Alicia's stomach fluttered at the way he lowered his voice and the pause in his sentence, that made her wonder what he had actually wanted to say instead of professional. "Thanks," she said.
"So anyway, I was thinking we could, you know, go celebrate? Tonight? Dinner, maybe?" He paused, but when she didn't say anything, he continued, "Or I could just come over…"
"John…" She held back a sigh. "I can't. I'm busy tonight." She wasn't, not unless taking a long hot bath counted as being busy. But she needed to create some distance between them again. What they had going on ever since he'd returned to Chicago four months ago was just a fling. She'd been clear about that from the beginning. But he kept trying to make it… more. And that would be a bad idea, she knew.
Just like it had been a bad idea for them to have a one-night stand two years ago, when John was still her campaign manager and she was still very much married to the Governor of Illinois. Whose name she'd kept after the divorce, simply for practical reasons — her clients, the media, the judges, everyone she dealt with in her professional life, knew her under that name. But the name was also a guarantee for constant scrutiny, especially now that Peter was trying to get re-elected. His ex-wife being involved with the man who managed the campaign for his opponent… Well, that was a recipe for disaster.
"Working on the Farris case?" John asked, his voice pulling her back into the conversation.
"Yes. I have a psychotherapist coming in from New York tomorrow morning. I need to prepare the case files for that meeting." He didn't need to know that the files she was referring to had already been sorted out and were waiting for Doctor Santino on Alicia's desk.
"I see. Well, maybe some other time then." The upbeat tone of his voice didn't ring completely true.
"John…" Alicia closed her eyes and leaned against her car, knowing that she shouldn't cave. She really didn't want to get his hopes up. It would be unfair. But the sex was just so good… "Why don't you come over tomorrow night?"
"I don't know, Alicia. Maybe we should just…" His voice trailed off and there was a brief moment of silence. Then she heard him release a sigh. "Whatever. Sure, I'll come over tomorrow."
"Good. I can't wait," Alicia said. They said goodbye, and as she broke the connection and put the phone back in her purse, she couldn't help but feeling relieved that he hadn't told her to go to hell. She wished she could feel the same for him as she knew he did for her. But falling in love had never brought her anything good, so she avoided it like the plague these days. She'd dated on and off since her divorce, now fifteen months ago. But whenever a man tried to get too close, too intimate, she was quick to break it off. She had needs, just like every other woman, but a committed relationship wasn't one of them. What she had with John was perfect, simply because she knew he wouldn't stay here indefinitely. After this campaign, he'd up and leave town again.
All she needed to do was make sure that she didn't fall for him before that day came. She could do that. Alicia nodded firmly to confirm that thought and got her car keys out. Time to go home.
§§§
Danielle Santino put down the phone with a relieved sigh. She'd been on it all afternoon, reassuring clients that they would be in great hands with Doctor Rosenberg in Dani's absence. Some had believed her right away, others had needed more convincing, but she'd managed to put them all at ease. Now there were just a few things left on her to do list for today, one of which was packing. She really wanted get that done before dinner, so she would have the rest of the evening to do more enjoyable things.
She startled when she heard tires squeal just outside, accompanied by the pumping rhythm of some hiphop song that was suddenly cut off as the car came to a stop. When a car door slammed shut, she uttered another sigh. That could only be one person. She got up from behind her desk and walked to the outside door of her home office, pulling it open just when the silhouette of a broad shouldered man came into sight.
"Doctor D! You know you can't leave, right?" Terrence King, aka TK, famous wide receiver of the New Jersey Bobcats, pushed right by her like he owned this place.
"Good evening, Terrence. Why don't you come in? Even though I don't remember us having an appointment…" Dani bit back a smile as she rolled her eyes. Then she schooled her features into a stern expression, closed the door and turned to face him. He had sat down at his usual spot on the flowery sofa and was giving her a belligerent look.
"This is an emergency," he declared. "You forgot something."
"Really?" Dani tried to keep the amusement out of her voice as she sat down in one of the chairs facing the couch, her usual spot. She crossed her legs and put her arms on the armrests. "And what might that be?"
"We're playing the Hawks in three days." TK looked at her as if that explained everything.
"And?"
"And I'm experiencing massive… What's it called… Performance anxiety." He nodded once, firmly. "Yeah. Performance anxiety. Because it's such an important game. And it's against my old team and all that. That really puts the pressure on. You know?" He looked at her expectantly.
"Performance anxiety? Really? Is that the best emergency you can come up with after five years of therapy?" Dani raised her eyebrow, trying not to burst into laughter when she saw his baffled expression at her reply.
"You making fun of my anxiety, Doctor D?" He threw her a wounded look.
"No, Terrence, you know I would never do that. What I'm making fun of, is your acting abilities." She smiled. "Come on, why don't you tell me what's really going on?"
"I just told you!"
"Well, in that case, I don't see the problem." Dani held up her finger when he would have protested. "You see, it just so happens that Doctor Rosenberg has specialized in performance anxiety, among other things. She will get you on top of your game before you can say Superbowl."
He jumped up and started pacing. "But, Doc, you know I don't do well with other therapists, and…"
"TK." She cut him off in a firm voice. She got up and went to stand in front of him, putting a hand on his arm. He towered over her 5'5", and she had to lean her head back to be able to look him in the eye. She let her own gaze soften and smiled at him. "You'll be fine. I've been away before, and you were always fine. This time will be no different."
He sighed heavily. "Well, if you say so… But you better not get yourself killed, you hear?"
That's what he was worried about? Dani shook her head, smiling. "Terrence… The man is in jail. There will be bars between us, and armed guards and what not. He won't come anywhere near me. Okay?" She waited till he nodded. "Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a suitcase to pack and an early flight to catch tomorrow." She gently walked him to the door. "I'll be back before you know it. Don't worry about me," she said when he opened the door and stepped out.
"Me? Worried about you? Nah…" TK gave her a mischievous grin. "I'm just worried I'll get stuck with a therapist called Rosebud. What kind of name is that, anyway?" He shook his head, the grin fading. "I'm just messing with you, Doctor D. Seriously… Be careful, okay?"
"I will. Thanks, TK," Dani said. "And her name is Rosenberg, not Rosebud."
"I know that! Like I said, I was just messing with you, girl! Don't you ever listen? Psh, some therapist you are…" Laughing, he turned and walked towards the corner of the house, giving her a casual wave.
"Good night, Terrence!" Dani called out after him, shaking her head in amusement. She closed and locked the door.
"What was that about?" The unexpected voice, coming from behind her, made her jump.
"Geez! Nico!" She turned and narrowed her eyes at Nico Careles, the darkly handsome man dressed in equally dark clothes leaning casually against the doorframe of the door connecting her office to the rest of her home. He had his hands in the pockets of his long black coat. Dani put her own hands hands on her hips. "You freak me out like that one more time and I'll take away your key!" She inwardly rolled her eyes. They'd met five years ago, and they'd been together for nearly two years now. You'd think she'd gotten used to his freaky navy Seal skills by now…
He smirked, his hazel eyes teasing. "You know that won't stop me from entering your house."
"Yeah? Well, I guess I'll just have to get a big, scary dog then. Have it chase you off when you try to pick the lock…" She walked up to him, slid her arms around his neck and went up on tiptoe to kiss him. "I thought you were working late tonight?"
"Xeno can handle things on his own for a couple of hours," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "So, what was TK doing here?"
"Trying to keep me from getting myself killed in Chicago."
"Hmm… Can't blame him for that," Nico murmured, leaning in for another kiss. "I would hate you getting yourself killed too."
"Really?" She pulled back, putting her hands on his chest and giving him a mock stern look. "Then maybe you should stop trying to give me a heart attack by sneaking up on me all the time."
"I wasn't sneaking up on you, you were just too busy to notice me."
"You say tomato…" She swatted him in the chest. "Now get out of my way. I have to do some serious packing."
"Need help?" His eyes dropped to the plunging neckline of the royal blue tank top she was wearing. She felt his hands slide down her back, on their way to her butt, but she took a step back before they could reach their destination.
"I said packing, not unpacking," she told him, right before turning around and sashaying towards the stairs, making sure to put some extra sway in her hips. Looking back, she smiled saucily. "Although on second thought..." She waited until he passed the kitchen doorway, on his way to her, before continuing, "...You can get dinner started."
His eyes took on an almost devilish gleam as he gave her a slow once-over. "I'd rather skip right to dessert." He lunged at her, arms outstretched, and Dani turned and ran up the stairs, laughing.
She was still smiling when she walked into her bedroom. She really loved this playful side of him, that had only started to really come out when they had first gotten together two years ago. Before that, she'd only seen glimpses of it behind the tough, closed-off mystery man image he'd cultivated over the course of his career, first as a Navy Seal and then as an operative for whatever alphabet agency he'd worked for before he became the chief of security for the New York Hawks and his life path crossed hers.
She caught sight of the jacket he'd worn yesterday, lying on the floor by the chair at the foot end of the bed. He'd left it hanging on the back of the chair when he left for work this morning, but it must have fallen off. She walked over to pick it up. As she did so, something fell out of the pocket, and her brow furrowed when she bent to pick it up, her heart suddenly racing.
"Oh, God," she whispered as she stared at the item in her hand, slowly turning it over. It was a small, square box. Navy blue velvet covered it. The name of a well-known jeweler was stamped on the lid in curly silver letters. There could be earrings in it. Or… not. Dani took a deep breath, dropped the jacket on the chair and opened the box.
Not earrings.
Hands shaking, eyes wide, Dani quickly put the lid back on, grabbed the jacket and put the box back in, hoping she'd chosen the right pocket. Then she put the jacket over the back of the chair again and walked to the wardrobe. Over the next ten minutes she walked back and forth between the closet and her bed, piling clothes and shoes onto the bed without even looking at them. Then she got out her suitcase and stuffed the pile in. She managed to wrestle the suitcase shut and sank down on the bed next to it, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. She eyed the jacket on the chair like it was a snake ready to uncoil and attack, and tried to figure out what to think, what to feel.
She was still sitting there when Nico called from downstairs another fifteen minutes later, telling her that dinner was ready.
