Crash - Part Four (3 page)

“That’s when the really interesting stuff will start,” Carter said. “They have done so many different things to your business that we can get into federal court.”

“Why is that so good?” I asked.

“Because the federal courts in this district have a good record of looking after the small guy and awarding large sums in cases of corporate abuse like this.”

I had no idea how Carter knew all this stuff, but I suspected the information had come from Kerry. She obviously had substantial resources and had probably done, or paid someone to do, the research before she started down this road.

“Will the case be heard by a jury?” John asked.

“Maybe,” Kerry said. “It’s possible, and that will be part of the negotiation. But the actual court case and the trial are just side issues. Most cases don’t make it to court.”

“So, we’re just doing all this to settle?” I asked.

“No, not exactly. But the damage will be done before the trial, if there is one. Companies like PharmaTech get hit with lawsuits every day, and most of the cases are easily dismissed or they just settle. With this one, what we want to do is make sure it gets publicity, because that’s where we really do the company—and more importantly, the people in charge of the company—the most harm.”

“I have some contacts in the press,” Carter said. “At the appropriate time, I will leak a few juicy bits of information to them. Enough to get them taking a closer look at the court filings.”

“What about the faulty drug?” John asked. “The court case is just going to be about what they did to us, so how we can get information about the drug out there?”

“I must admit, I don’t have that entirely worked out yet,” Kerry admitted. “Maybe that is where Scott will be able to help us. There will be lots of depositions—which is where we get to ask them questions under oath—and I intend to get them to comment on the drug somehow. Anything they say on the record goes into the court filings, so we just need to get them to trip up once.”

“There’s something else you need to think about,” Carter said. “It’s nothing to worry about, but whenever you sue someone, the other party nearly always initiates what’s called a counter suit.”

“But we haven’t done anything wrong,” I said.

“That doesn’t matter,” he told me, shaking his head. “They will find something, or just make something up.”

“Why?”

“Just to put you under pressure and scare you. They will take your deposition and ask lots of questions. Obviously, your lawyer will protect you and make sure you don’t answer any questions you don’t have to. I just wanted to warn you, because they can be quite intimidating.”

“Bring it on,” John said. “I quite fancy being grilled by expensive lawyers. You never know, I might even get a date out of it.”

I knew that wasn’t just bravado on John’s part. He really wouldn’t be concerned or nervous about being questioned by lots of men and women in suits. Unfortunately, the thought of that scared me more than I was willing to admit. Even if I could answer their questions, I would still feel nervous. It would be like going for a job interview where you knew you were qualified for the position, but were still worried you would mess it up.

“So,” Kerry said, “are you two definitely okay with this? It’s going to be a tough battle, but they deserve what’s coming to them.”

“I’m down for it,” John said. “Let’s get to them and see what that we can dig up.”

“Emily?” Carter asked. “What about you?”

I took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled out, trying to control the slight shaking I felt in my body. “I’m in. Let’s do it.”

Over the past couple of days I had seen plenty of Carter, but only when Kerry and John were around. When we were discussing the business, Carter was professional at all times, as if the whole thing were just another business transaction. I suppose it was, in some ways, but it left me frustrated that I hadn’t seen enough of his smile or heard enough of his jokes. I even found myself longing to hear more of his comments—or more accurately, criticisms—on American life.

Thankfully, once we had all agreed on the plan of action and set up a meeting with Scott, Carter invited me out to dinner at another insanely expensive restaurant that was so out of my price range I had never even heard of it.

As I got ready, I started to wish I had let him buy me some high-end designer dresses for the evening. Not that I needed to wear them, or even felt comfortable wearing them, but at least I wouldn’t feel quite so out of place in restaurants like the one I was on the way to now.

Carter had picked a great night for a date. I was having a horrendous day and I really needed to see his face and feel the touch of his hand on mine. When shopping in the morning, I had gone to pay for groceries and noticed that my bank card was missing. I searched everywhere for it at home, assuming I had just left it on my dresser, but after an hour of searching the entire house it was nowhere to be seen. After forking out for groceries, I had $50 in cash on me and my bank promised to get a new one out to me tomorrow. It wasn’t a huge deal until I remembered that without a credit card I couldn’t use the app on my phone to get a ride to the restaurant. Instead, I ended up in one of the overpriced San Francisco taxis that took half of my measly cash from me.

By the time I got to the restaurant, I was hoping Carter had arrived before me and ordered some drinks because I really needed a glass of wine. Instead I was escorted to an empty table in the back corner of the restaurant. The walls were almost entirely made of glass and I had a great view of the city, although at night it was mainly lights. But still, the frenzied movement of thousands of cars through the streets, like ants bringing food to and from the nest, was kind of fascinating when you sat back and looked at it.

“Will your friend be here soon, ma’am?” the waiter asked, appearing beside me.

I glanced at the time on my phone; Carter was fifteen minutes late, which was not like him at all. I didn’t mind too much—my phone and the decent Wi-Fi connection were more than enough to keep me amused—but it wasn’t like him to be late.

“I just got a message from him saying he was running late,” I lied. “He’ll be here any minute, though.”

“Would you like to drink while you wait?”

“Oh, God, yes,” I said. “Just bring me a dry white wine. A large one.”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

Once the waiter was out of sight, I sent Carter a message asking him where he was and then went back to answering emails. If I was going to be stuck here by myself, I might as well make the most of the time to be productive.

“Your friend has still not arrived, ma’am,” the waiter said as he placed my glass of wine on the table. It wasn’t so much a question as an accusation.

“Traffic must be bad, I guess. You know how it gets in San Francisco.”

“Quite.”

The waiter made no effort to hide his displeasure and I made a mental note to tell Carter not to tip as generously as he usually did—assuming he ever actually arrived. He was now thirty minutes late. I sent another message and this time made it clear that I wanted a reply, at the very least. I didn’t mind if we had to cancel or postpone dinner, but I did want him to at least tell me.

As I sat there alone at the table, I noticed why the waiter was concerned about Carter’s late arrival. The restaurant might have been expensive, but it was popular, and I could already see some disgruntled guests looking less than pleased that I was taking up the best table in the restaurant by myself and not eating. The restaurant was small and I felt like all sets of eyes were on me. Finally a message came through on my phone.

Sorry, I can’t make it tonight. C.

That was it. No explanation or excuse at all. The waiter was already on his way over having no doubt noticed the expression on my face.

“Ma’am, I am very sorry, but it doesn’t look like your friend will be coming this evening.”

“How much do I owe you for the wine?”

“I will go bring the check.”

“Just tell me how much the damn glass of wine cost,” I said, raising my voice just loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear.

The waiter pulled out his notepad and pen and wrote the price down, as if speaking it aloud would somehow spoil the illusion. I had just enough cash left to pay for my one measly glass of wine, although probably not enough for the tax and tip. I threw all my cash down on the table, picked up the glass, necked back the remaining wine, and then stormed out of the restaurant.

California was suffering from a drought, so the chances of it raining were slim. But as I said, I was having a really bad day. I ran out of the restaurant and straight into the rain, which was hammering down hard enough that anyone without a strong umbrella was ducking under shelter or running into nearby shops.

I had no credit card, and after paying for the wine, I had no cash. There was no way I could get all the way back to my place in one piece, but Carter’s was not that far. Besides, I owed him a piece of my mind. I stayed under cover of the restaurant for a few minutes until I finally decided to make a run for it. Well, “run” might not be quite the right word—I had on high heels and only one real leg, after all—but I moved as fast as I could.

After only a few seconds, I had got as wet as I was going to get, so I slowed down a little bit to avoid slipping and falling on my ass; that would really top off this fantastic day.

The receptionist in Carter’s building didn’t say anything, but did give me a sympathetic look indicating that she knew she was looking at a woman who had been stood up. If I hadn’t been angry before, I soon became mad as hell as I stood in the elevator, shivering and shaking with the cold. With everything that was going on right now, the last thing I needed was a cold or flu to deal with.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, I started pulling off my wet clothes, making my way to the bathroom to get changed. I hadn’t expected Carter to be at home. I assumed whatever weak excuse he had for not showing up for our date was related to work. Instead, I opened the bedroom door and found him sat on the end of the bed with his head down.

“What the hell, Carter?!” I yelled, throwing my wet shirt down on the floor. “You’ve been here all this time?”

Carter looked up at me, and I could see from the redness around his face that he had been crying.

“What’s happened?” I asked, rushing to his side.

“I probably shouldn’t talk to you about it.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s obvious something that has upset you.”

“I’m okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’m in a state of shock more than anything. Just not too sure how to react.”

“We have to talk. What happened?”

“I just got a call from Kerry. Bella passed away today.”

The next morning, John and I had our big meeting with Scott to finalize our plans for the lawsuit. We met in an impressive—and ludicrously expensive—reception area where we waited for him to finish up another meeting.

“You’re surprisingly quiet this morning, considering you spent the night at Carter’s,” John remarked. “Usually you are all bubbly and annoyingly chipper.”

“How do you even know I stayed at Carter’s?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you slept at my place last night?”

“No, I’m actually getting used to staying at my place now. The clothes were the giveaway. I’ve not seen them before, which means they must be the ones you bought to leave at Carter’s.”

Touché
, I thought. “I did stay at Carter’s, but we didn’t have sex.”

“Oh, is it… you know…?”

“No, it’s not my time of the month.”

I told John about Bella passing away and how Carter and I spent the night in bed together, but he just held me in his arms as we both drifted off to sleep.

“How do you feel about all this?” John asked. “I know it sounds a bit heartless, but this must be difficult for you, what with the whole ‘she was married to your boyfriend’ thing.”

“Honestly, I have no idea how I feel. On the one hand, she was partly responsible for killing my brother and obviously shouldn’t have been drinking and driving, but on the other hand, that drug by PharmaTech messed her up, so they have to share the blame.”

“What about Carter’s reaction to it all? You aren’t mad at him for missing dinner and for being so upset?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. Given how important she once was to him, I think he’s handling it remarkably well. And he’s not reacting like he is still in love with her. I believe him more than ever about that. I know he loved her once, but I don’t think he has for quite some time.”

“This is just going to make Kerry even more determined to get her revenge on PharmaTech.”

“I know. We’re going to have to make sure we retain control of all this. In fact, I’m going to ask Carter to have her back off a little bit. She can be involved when she needs to be, but for the most part, he should be the one to pass information on to her. That way, she won’t to be able to put pressure on us.”

“Good idea.” Something behind me caught John’s attention. “My God, is that him? I hope it’s him.”

I turned around and looked at the man walking our way. Carter had spoiled me, so other men did not easily impress me now, but even I had to admit that this lawyer was easy on the eyes.

“Hi,” he said, extending his hand to me. “You must be Emily and John. I’m Scott. So nice to meet you in person.

“Hi, Scott,” I said, shaking his hand firmly. John muttered something that I couldn’t understand, and judging by Scott’s confused expression, I didn’t think he could either.

“I’ve got a meeting room reserved. Follow me.”

Scott was more slender than Carter, so he didn’t bulge muscle through the suit in quite the same way Carter managed, but he did have a nice physique and was no stranger to the gym. I couldn’t deny being attracted to him, but it was more a feeling of wanting to go home and jump on Carter as opposed to actually wanting Scott.

“Calm down,” I whispered to John. “He might not be gay, and he might not be single.”

“I don’t care if he’s single; I can work on that. And if he’s even the least bit curious I’m going to try my luck.”