What's a Girl to Do?

by originella

Scarlett "Scar" Davies whole life has been a lie - upon graduating with a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice, she finds out that her distant mother adopted her when she was three months old. Determined to find answers, and having accepted a job in her birth place of Chicago, Scarlett goes to seek fortune, love, and the identity that people seem determined to keep from her.

5. The Longest Day

Chapter Five: The Longest Day

I returned to the office the following day, looking forward to not going to court that day, and relieved at the long recess while the other side looked for more character witnesses. Sitting in Allie's office that day, I felt different, but pushed all thoughts of the last evening out of my mind to focus on my work. Rachel had a few calls for me, as did Cindy, and I threw myself into writing more case notes for the trial, despite the fact that I may have been unable to communicate them myself.

When the phone rang a bit after eleven, I picked it up and put it to my ear. "Hello, Rachel," I said, trying to sound easygoing. "Is everything okay?"

"There's a Fiona Gallagher here to see you, Scarlett," Rachel replied.

I nodded, thinking it was a little strange, but nevertheless feeling pleased at the notion of seeing one of my only friends in Chicago. "Send her in please, Rachel."

"Yes, Scarlett," Rachel said.

I got to my feet, hearing a pair of heels in the hallway a few moments later, and opened the door to see Fiona standing there. I smiled immediately, and Fiona pulled me into a hug before I let her into Allie's office. "Hey!" I said, finally allowing myself to speak as soon as I shut the door behind me. "This is a surprise."

"Well, I haven't seen you in a hot minute and I thought I'd come and check in," she said brightly, smiling broadly.

I fixed a smile to my own face. "Well, that's awfully nice of you. How's Debbie doing? I still need to meet her..."

"She's good—Frances is, too. Debbie really is looking forward to meeting you," Fiona said, and I could tell there was something on her mind.

I bit my lip, attempting to extinguish the awkwardness between us, but I should've known that this confrontation had something to it. "Is everything okay?" I asked.

She nodded. "Yeah. I mean, why wouldn't it be?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, it's not like you've ever just come to the firm. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad to see you," I said quickly, not wanting her to be upset with me. "But I just need a reason why..."

"I only have a few minutes," Fiona said, getting to the point as she reached into her purse and produced a black lace bra that I'd worn yesterday, and I very nearly felt my heart stop in my chest because of my impulsive behavior the night before. "I was wondering if you could identify this bra. I mean, it's not mine—my breasts don't look like this—and Debbie's have been different ever since Frances was born, but... I don't know, I mean, why would either of our bras be in the couch cushions?"

I felt myself hesitating. "Where did you...?"

Fiona smiled. "I was just at the house earlier this morning, doing some cleaning, and I found it between the couch cushions..."

I felt myself flushing red immediately. "Oh. Yeah. That," I say, swiping it from her and putting it into my purse. "Sorry."

Fiona raised her eyebrows. "It's yours, then?"

I sighed. "Yes, it's mine. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

Fiona looked puzzled by my awkwardness but nodded. "Okay, fair enough. So, you've certainly upgraded the office space..."

"Uh, what?" I asked, not really paying attention.

"No, it's just that, Ian described a much smaller office from the pictures you showed him and Lip when you started here," Fiona went on, and I felt myself flushing deeper at the sound of Lip's name that I turned away. "Is everything okay with you, Scar?"

My eyes flashed to Fiona's. "Yeah. Why wouldn't they be?"

Fiona smiled. "Look, Scar, it's perfectly normal," she said, and I found I was looking at her like she had three heads. "It's perfectly normal, after your first time, that you feel a little off-kilter the next day, but—"

"Whoa, hold up!" I cried out then, backing away from her, not wanting to be close to anyone right now. "Lip fucking told you what happened?!"

"Scar, he didn't need to tell me," she said gently. "New relationship, and having sex with that partner for the first time—"

"Fi, I was a fucking virgin!" I hissed under my breath.

Her dark brown eyes widened. "Oh, Scar. It's okay, really. Look, if you want me to talk to Lip and tell him to give you some space—"

"Fi, just..." I raised my hand to her words, and she stopped talking immediately. "Just please, don't say or do anything. I just... I don't want anyone else involved in this."

Fiona nodded, taking in my words. "Okay," she said simply. She walked towards me then, to hug me, but took note of my body language and gently squeezed my shoulder instead. "Look, Scar, I just want you to know... I'm here."

I gave her a stiff nod. "I know that."

She gave me a small smile. "Well, then... I guess that's all I came here to say, then." She gives me a small wave before walking out the door and shutting it softly behind her.

I find I am gripping the front of Allie's desk then, in an attempt to keep my entire body from keeling over entirely. I hang my head then, feeling shame wash over me at my treatment of her as I try and fail to keep the tears from my eyes. "Fuck," I whisper to myself.

. . .

I left the office at lunch to get some time to myself—I just needed to get out of that environment for an hour, if that, and learn how to breathe again. I drove into the heart of downtown, just driving, my strawberry drinkable yogurt sustaining me from breakfast that morning; I didn't even want to hear the word lunch ever again. As I drove, I thought about pulling off the main drag and just walking—which was never a good idea without ideal footwear—but my sense of adventure won in the end.

Getting out of my car, and after locking it up behind me, I just strolled, not really paying attention to anyone or anything, which caused me to nearly collide with someone coming out of a coffee bar. After a mutual expletive escaped our lips, our eyes met, and I felt a rush of relief when I saw Ian standing before me. Without really knowing what I was doing, I just threw my arms around him in what I assumed was a hug, and he hugged me back, although his arms were more concerned than welcoming.

"Scar? You okay?" he asked, and when I finally pulled back, he got a good look at me. "Fi said she stopped by the firm this morning but that you weren't really in a talking mood."

I sighed. "She was dropping something off."

"Like what?" Ian wanted to know.

I bit my lip and looked around, making sure that nobody was in our general vicinity. "She was dropping off a bra of mine..."

Ian's brows came together then. "I didn't know women shared bras." He threw up his hands when I fixed him with a look. "Hey, I'm not judging, but I always thought that underwear and makeup were the two things you shouldn't share..."

I found myself laughing aloud then, feeling immediately at ease. "You really should find someone else to babysit Liam," I said without thinking.

"Why would I need to find someone else...?" Ian's wind managed to work quickly then as he fixed me with a look. "You and Lip?"

I put my fist into my mouth and swore into it. "Shit," I whispered.

Ian sighed. "Well, you're both consenting adults so no crimes were committed here... Liam didn't come downstairs, did he?"

I gave Ian a pained expression. "To tell you the truth, my mind was kind of fixated on one thing, so forgive me if I wasn't watching out for your brother... Well, that brother," I said, and shook my head at the implications.

Ian smirked. "Well, at least you're honest."

I lowered my eyes, kicking the tips of my heels against the pavement. "Yeah, well, I could've been nicer to Fiona..."

"Hey," Ian said, squeezing my shoulder and causing me to look up at him. "It's all good. Fiona can be pretty understanding when she wants to be."

I gave Ian a small smile. "Like the best of us, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, like the best of us." He hesitated for a moment. "So, did you have a good time last night, or was it not—"

"Shut up," I said pointedly to Ian, not about to discuss the events of the previous evening with another inquisitive Gallagher sibling.

Ian's eyes widened then at my brazen attitude, and I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh at my reply. "Okay," he replied. "Probably shouldn't have asked anyway."

I shrugged. "You get a free pass this time."

Ian looked around then, almost as if he was avoiding checking the time. "I've gotta jet back to work now—"

"Let me drive you," I replied. "I've still got some time and I'd enjoy the company."

Ian smiled. "Great," he replied.

We journeyed back to my car in virtual silence, and I found I felt more secure than I had in a while as I unlocked it to let us both inside. I sat and waited for a moment before I ultimately took Ian's advice on the best route to return him to work that afternoon, and we arrived there in less than ten minutes. I hesitated as we pulled up, and Ian pulled me into another hug, reassuring me that Fiona would not hold this morning against me.

"Yeah, but how do you know?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

I sighed. "I don't know. I mean, I think I majorly fucked up this morning. I had no right to speak to her that way. What's she going to...?" I hesitated for a moment, Ian still staring at me. "I just feel like if I'd pulled that shit at home, I'd get a backhand to the face."

Ian took my head. "You won't get that here."

"But Fiona!" I cried out. "I just... I don't know if I can face her again. I treated her so horribly this morning. Do you think she'll forgive me?"

He nodded. "Yes, she will."

I scoffed then, disbelieving. "Yeah? Why would she?"

Ian thought about it for a moment. "I may have used Lip's identification to join the army to get away from Mickey," he said, and I found myself confused at that name again, knowing that there was a story behind it, but I wasn't wholly comfortable asking.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked.

Ian nodded, smiling at the memory. "Yeah. Anyhow, I kind of freaked out under pressure, and damaged government property..."

"You?!" I cried out.

He laughed. "Yeah—a helicopter. Anyhow, I ended up at a gay club, working nights... It wasn't a pretty picture, but Fiona, and...everybody, stood by me," he said, reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, putting down the window and lighting one up. "That's before I went off the rails completely and got admitted," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke.

I sighed, reaching out and taking the cigarette under Ian's skeptical gaze, but I knew how to smoke one of these. "If I ever go off the rails..."

Ian squeezes my shoulder, watching me puff seemingly expertly on the cigarette. "We're all here for you."

I find tears entering my eyes again, shakily reaching out and returning the cigarette to him as I attempted to form the necessary words. "But, why?" I whispered, and Ian looks surprised that I'm allowing him to see my vulnerable side—one I'd only let Lip see for a few moments. "Why would you just drop everything to help me?"

"You're Lip's girlfriend," Ian replied, taking another drag of the poison into his lungs. "That makes you family."

I scoffed and shook my head, taking the cigarette back from him. "No..."

"No, you're not his girlfriend?"

I shrugged. "I don't know what we are, Ian," I said, feeling as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders as he took the cigarette back. "We're something, but... I don't know. I mean, I can't explain my closeness to any of you, I just feel like..."

"Like something underlying is going on here?" Ian asked, and my eyes instantly flashed over to his at his understanding.

I take back the cigarette. "Exactly. Can't explain it..."

He shook his head. "Neither can I, but it's there, for sure," he told me, squeezing my shoulder again with a smile. "Don't think you're crazy. It's there."

I nodded, taking a final drag of the cigarette. "I'll try and keep telling myself that," I replied, and handed it back to him. I forced a smile onto my face as Ian gave me one last grin, before he got out of my car and returned to work.

. . .

I get back to the firm in plenty of time for them not to cut my paycheck for skipping out too long after various people's lunch breaks ended. I head straight to Allie's office, just wanting to put this entire work day behind me, and to plow through some more notes in preparation for court the following week. After about an hour, I received a phone call from Cindy, who had a message from Hugo's secretary, Astrid.

"Miss Davies, Mr. Blomqvist would like a word in his office," she said, always more formal with me than Rachel was.

"Of course, Cindy. Did he say when?"

"Right now, Miss Davies," she replied, sounding nervous.

I forced my voice to sound confident. "Please inform Astrid to tell Mr. Blomqvist that I'll be with him shortly."

"Yes, Miss Davies," Cindy said, cutting the call.

I finished my final thoughts on a witness for the opposing side, barely taking two or three minutes to do so before getting to my feet. I smoothed my suit before I left Allie's office, going towards the first of three wings—Hugo's wing—where I would find Nicholas. My heels sounded like I was important on the carpeted hallway, and as I approached the ornately-carved office door, and rapped my knuckles on it, I was fully prepared to mean business. I was not about to be pushed around further by Nicholas, no matter whose son he was.

"Come in."

Rolling my eyes at the command behind the voice, I turned the massive brass handle and let myself in, shutting the door before Nicholas could shout another command at me. Turning around to face him, I hated the notion of what I was seeing—Nicholas just sitting at his desk, looking over some paperwork. Not only was he being disrespectful by not leveling the playing field, but he was also making me wait when he said he wanted to see me promptly.

"If you didn't need anything, Nicholas," I said, fighting to keep my voice neutral, "I really should get back to the case notes. Although," I went on, before I could stop myself, watching as Nicholas raised his eyes to mine, "maybe I shouldn't bother, considering that you're just using me as a glorified paralegal."

He stiffened at the barb. "If you're on your menses, Scarlett, I highly suggest you take some pain killers and get over it."

I walked over to his desk, heels clicking wildly across the wooden floor, and rapped on his desk in an impatient manner. "You listen to me—I passed the bar, and got a Master's Degree in Criminal Justice and a minor in psychology at twenty-one! You need to stop acting like I'm inferior, just because I'm a recent hire! I've done nothing to you—I'm only here to do my job, but I can't do that if you continue to selfishly step on my toes. I don't know what your problem is, Nicholas, but I'm starting to think you're a chauvinist pig!"

Nicholas looked shocked at my demeanor. "I resent the implication, Scarlett."

"Don't," I reply, "because it's what you are. Own up to your mistakes and let me do my work, Nicholas, or I will tell your mother what you've been up to."

Nicholas got to his feet again. "You wouldn't dare."

I smiled at him, amused that he was acting so sheepish. "Just watch me," I replied, turning around and leaving his office.

As soon as I was outside the door, I breathed a sigh of relief as I returned to Allie's office. Once I stepped inside, I heard my phone ringing, and I crossed my fingers that it wasn't Cindy calling me back to Nicholas's office, or worse, that Hugo and Allie had already got wind of what I'd said to their son. Heart skipping a beat, I crossed the room, picking up the phone and putting it hesitantly to my ear.

"Hello?" I said into the phone.

"Scarlett, it's Rachel," came my secretary's voice, slightly shaking from excitement. "Listen, I want you to know that Judge Whitmore is on line one, wanting to have a word."

"Judge Theodore Whitmore?" I asked, recalling the judge in the case that Nicholas and I were currently working on. "Sure. Put him through."

"Of course, Scarlett," Rachel replied.

There was a click, and then the rich baritone voice of Judge Whitmore filled my ears. "Am I speaking to attorney Scarlett Davies?"

"Yes, Your Honor," I replied. "But, please, call me Scarlett."

"Honey, when we're not in the courtroom, call me 'Teddy'," he replied, sounding like a kind grandfather figure. "I was reviewing the case notes that your firm provided for the Johnny Sanders case, and I had some questions."

"Yes, of course, Teddy," I said, pulling out my copies. "I have my copies right here. What would you like to know?"

"I'd like to know when Nicholas Blomqvist suddenly sounded so eloquent when it came to public speaking, and his words..."

I blinked. "Excuse me, Teddy?" I asked.

"When he questioned the three witnesses yesterday afternoon—Florence Michaelson, Jasper Newton, and Melissa Franklin—it didn't sound like him."

"You're familiar with Nicholas Blomqvist's writing, Teddy?" I asked.

"I'm also a professor at Northwestern University, where Nicholas Blomqvist was a student of mine," Teddy explained patiently. "He did show promise, I can tell you that, but his papers were so one-note..."

"Sir?" I asked, not fully understanding.

"Many kinds of student come through various university doors, Scarlett," Teddy went on. "The legacy students—who choose career paths based on their parents; the over-achievers—looking to make the big bucks out in the world; the slackers—who either don't know the material or don't care to know the material; and then the exceptional ones—the ones who choose a career path because they want to make a better life for themselves and others. I suppose you can guess which one of those Nicholas Blomqvist is."

I shake my head. "I could, but I don't think it's my place to."

"He was a legacy," Teddy explained. "While he showed promise and knowledge of the law itself, his work always lacked appropriate passion. He knew the material, but he had no feeling attached to it, unfortunately."

I sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"You, however, Scarlett," Teddy went on, "were an exceptional student."

"Sir?" I asked, surprised that the topic had circled back to me.

"Oh, yes. I have pull at many major universities throughout the United States. Once I learned you were a candidate for a new position at Blomqvist, Sampson, and Torrance, I contacted the professor I knew at your university, and was granted permission to see some of your assignments dating back to when you were sixteen-years-old."

I smiled. "You really didn't have to..."

"Oh, but I did," he said. "And now, what I can't understand is—well, in all honesty, I do understand—why Nicholas Blomqvist is putting his name to your case notes in the court files for this case."

I felt myself stiffen. "Is he?" I ask.

"Don't worry—I have examples of both your work and I know how to tell yours from his, and I know this was all your work."

I lower my eyes. "Well, thank you, Teddy. Thanks for setting the record straight. I really appreciate that."

He sighed. "I know I shouldn't say this, Scarlett, but I was also given access to your permanent record and discovered that you were adopted."

"Yes, that's right."

"Born in the Chicago South Side but raised in Seattle?" Teddy asked. "That's quite a trek. You were adopted at three months."

"I was," I replied.

"I also heard that you're attempting to track down your adoption records and birth certificate, but you're finding...difficulties?"

"Stumbling blocks, that's for sure," I reply. "I received the adoption records, but the only information that wasn't blanked out was what I already knew."

"How peculiar," Teddy put in. "Listen, I had my contacts down at the courthouse expedite the process of your birth certificate from the moment you asked for it and I was aware of the claim you put forth."

"Teddy!" I cried out. "You didn't have to—"

"No, I did," he said, and I could detect the smile in his voice. "The courthouse closes at six o'clock today, and all the necessary documentation is there waiting for you."

I covered my mouth with my hand to keep from screaming with joy. "Teddy! I just... I don't know what to say..."

"Say thank you," Teddy replied.

"Thank you," I said.

"Now, I'll take care of Nicholas to make sure he doesn't upstage you anymore."

"I think I scared him real good earlier, Teddy—I threatened to tell his mother," I say, loving that I could share that piece of information with someone.

Teddy laughed aloud. "Well, that's a stroke of genius, Scarlett, but I think a word from a judge would be just a bit more effective."

I nodded. "Whatever you think is best, Teddy."

"Well, Scarlett, I'll let you get back to work. But make sure you get to the courthouse before it closes today. I have a feeling that you want the mystery to be solved."

"I do, Teddy. Thank you!"

"You're welcome. Goodbye, Scarlett. See you in court next week."

"Goodbye, Teddy!" I cried out into the phone, hanging up.

I sat there for a moment in my desk chair, before I spun around and around then, throwing my hands up into the air. I let out a scream of exultation—I couldn't believe it. The time had come for me to figure out who I truly was. Checking my clock, I saw that it was just after three, so I had almost two hours left at the firm before the final piece of the puzzle was solved. Getting back to work, I typed away furiously at my notes, feeling good that a freaking judge had gone to bat for me, unknowing as to why fortune had dealt me this hand.

The hour and a half seemed to fly by quickly, and I hastily tidied up Allie's office before I gathered up my things and headed out. I walked confidently towards the elevators and into the parking garage, to where my car was waiting, and got inside. Well aware of traffic reports, I found the best way to the courthouse at that hour, and drove like a madwoman towards my destination. Upon arrival, I pulled into the parking lot and just sat there for a moment; it was almost five-thirty, but I just needed another moment before I could solve this piece to my identity, one that I'd come so far to get, and now it was only moments away.

I got out of my car two minutes later, locking it behind me and making my way up the stairs of the impressive brick building. Stepping inside, I found the proper area yet again and was pleased to see that Marsha was working. I selected a number, and when I was called, I was relieved when Marsha was the one holding my documents. I stepped forward, my number in one hand, and my identification in the other, but Marsha merely handed over the folder.

"You must have friends in high places, Scarlett."

I smiled at her. "Oh, I don't know," I said with a shrug. "Do you need anything else from me, or can I just go and figure out the rest of my life?"

Marsha smiled. "Go figure out the rest of your life."

I gave a small laugh, putting the documents to my chest and walking out of there. I made my way back to my car, getting inside and locking up behind me. Opening the documents, I found myself shocked when the names of perfect strangers were not staring back at me. I shut the folder for a moment before I forced myself to open it and look again, but there was no mistaking it, not for a moment. I saw the government of Chicago stamp upon the page of the birth certificate, so I knew that no mistake had been made.

I felt my eyes fill with tears then as I felt myself shaking, not knowing what I was going to do. I couldn't believe that I'd been searching all this time, and now it was right in front of me, but it was not the answer I wanted. Fighting to keep control of myself, I shut the folder forcefully and pulled out of the parking lot, my tires screeching on the pavement, as I drove in the direction of my apartment.

The next thing I did was pull out my phone, where I called the firm. "Rachel, hey," I said, sounding most unlike myself.

"Hello, Scarlett. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, fine," I replied. "Listen, I need to take the next two days off for personal reasons. Court is in recess until Monday, so I'm really not needed there."

"Of-of course, Scarlett." She hesitated for a moment. "Is everything okay?"

I nodded, knowing that I would pay for this later. "Yeah, fine," I replied. I parked in my apartment lot and heading upstairs. "Just tell them that there was a family emergency and that I had some things to take care of."

"Family emergency. Got it," Rachel said.

"Thank you," I said, letting myself into my apartment. "Don't worry about a thing, Rachel, really. I don't want you freaking out on me," I say with a nervous laugh.

"Scarlett, really—are you sure you're okay?"

"Couldn't be better," I replied, getting my duffel bag down from the shelf in my closet, and filling it with clothes. "Just peachy."

"You'll call if there's anything we can do for you, right?"

I nodded, going into my safe just beside my bed, bringing out some of my cash and my passport for good measure. "Of course I'll call, Rachel." I zipped up my duffel bag, placing my passport into my pocket and making a grab for my wall charger. "If there's nothing else?"

"No, nothing else, Scarlett," Rachel replied as I walked down the hallway and let myself back out of my apartment and locked up behind me. "Oh, one thing. What shall I do in the event of people calling for you?"

"Tell them I had a family emergency," I replied, getting back into the parking lot and throwing my duffel in the back of the car. "Attorneys are people, too."

Rachel gave a nervous laugh that time. "People, too," she said as I got into my car and started it off, getting back onto the main road. "Right..."

"If there's nothing else, Rachel," I said, heading onto the freeway.

"No," Rachel replied as I chose my lane—I-57 South. "Nothing else."

"All right," I replied. "I'll see you Monday, then."

"Goodbye, Scarlett," Rachel said, cutting the call.

I keyed in the information onto my GPS system, and it calmly repeated it back to me. "Driving on I-57 South, to Mexico. Approximate driving time, twenty-nine hours."

I gripped the steering wheel then, doing my best not to lose my cool. "Guess I'm going off the rails... All in the family, right?" I muttered to myself, hitting the gas and pulling forward to match the speed of the traffic around me.

TO BE CONTINUED