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HE RAISED HIS eyes from the menu as if an inkling from his buried past, reached across the dining room, tapped him on the shoulder and instructed him to look up. Hers was a face he saw traces of in depositions, at the annual holiday party. It was one he tried to forget. And the last one he expected to see in his city tonight.
Months out of law school, Joshua Phillips earned the only position open that year for new graduates at Quincy, Norman and Associates. Proud, he strutted into the gleaming offices on his first day with something to prove and a list of objectives the length of his arm. Instantly, he fell love. He heard songbirds. The recirculated air felt crisp and clean. The break room coffee tasted sweeter. Every unfamiliar face smiled just for him. Three boring days of filing discoveries for senior associates dragged him back down to earth, but it was a night of barhopping that caused him to miss the 6:50 bus. As he rushed across the courtyard, he spilled coffee on his tie — fortunately, he stored extras in his desk drawer. And the prettiest girl he’d even seen held the door for him.
Judging from the green stripe in her black hair and the worn down Converse she scuffed over the immaculate marble floors, Joshua figured they came from the same worlds. He approached her in the elevator, employing a string of disarming jokes at his own expense to “break the ice”. Her giggles blossomed into full belly laughs and they exchanged phone numbers. He exited a few floors below her, dialing her number before the doors glided shut. That same evening they had drinks. In truth, she fascinated him. A strong attraction, a fundamental chemistry he couldn’t articulate, grabbed them, mingled with the alcohol, and refused to let the night end. The next morning over breakfast when she formally introduced herself, he put the heart-wrenching pieces of the puzzle together. They decided that one night would be as far as things would go. But by sheer luck or pure chance, he ran into her again at a house party that weekend.
It must’ve been fate or destiny or both.
Whatever the case, lightning struck that night in the waning days of October. The time flew by, and on a cold, wet January morning, Rebecca Norman walked out of his dingy apartment and boarded a plane bound for DC on the arm of Spencer Alvey. He never spoke to her again.
Rebecca and Spencer married the following spring and moved into a Georgetown mansion. The young congressman from a political family and his beautiful new wife, the pair skyrocketed into DC stardom. Bitter, Joshua tried not to follow the congressman’s career. He boxed up some mementos, one or two personal items she left in his apartment, tucked them in the back of his closet and concentrated on the law. Though she left for her own reasons and without much concern for his feelings, he could thank her now for doing him the favor. For somebody born poor who still remembered going to sleep on an empty stomach, when success dangled within your grasp, meaningful distractions, however beautiful and romantic they might seem, amounted to speed bumps on the journey, obstacles to overcome.
Joshua stood to get her attention. At six feet three inches with a runner’s physique and dressed in a bespoke suit, she’d have to be blind to miss him. Her eyesight hadn’t degenerated. Almost at once, she recognized him and like their last encounter, he grappled with the full meaning of her expression. Never a shy woman, Rebecca walked right up to him.
“Joshua,” she said.
“Rebecca.” He brushed a thin kiss on her cheek, breathing in her perfume. Her twenty-nine-year-old self wore a more sophisticated fragrance, but the notes provoked a similar response. Stirring up dormant feelings, her pull seduced him like a siren’s song. Joshua backed away. Their eyes met and for a moment it was like October all over again. “Rebecca, this is Jaime Lincoln. Jaime’s a client.”
“Rebecca Alvey.
HE RAISED HIS eyes from the menu as if an inkling from his buried past, reached across the dining room, tapped him on the shoulder and instructed him to look up. Hers was a face he saw traces of in depositions, at the annual holiday party. It was one he tried to forget. And the last one he expected to see in his city tonight.
Months out of law school, Joshua Phillips earned the only position open that year for new graduates at Quincy, Norman and Associates. Proud, he strutted into the gleaming offices on his first day with something to prove and a list of objectives the length of his arm. Instantly, he fell love. He heard songbirds. The recirculated air felt crisp and clean. The break room coffee tasted sweeter. Every unfamiliar face smiled just for him. Three boring days of filing discoveries for senior associates dragged him back down to earth, but it was a night of barhopping that caused him to miss the 6:50 bus. As he rushed across the courtyard, he spilled coffee on his tie — fortunately, he stored extras in his desk drawer. And the prettiest girl he’d even seen held the door for him.
Judging from the green stripe in her black hair and the worn down Converse she scuffed over the immaculate marble floors, Joshua figured they came from the same worlds. He approached her in the elevator, employing a string of disarming jokes at his own expense to “break the ice”. Her giggles blossomed into full belly laughs and they exchanged phone numbers. He exited a few floors below her, dialing her number before the doors glided shut. That same evening they had drinks. In truth, she fascinated him. A strong attraction, a fundamental chemistry he couldn’t articulate, grabbed them, mingled with the alcohol, and refused to let the night end. The next morning over breakfast when she formally introduced herself, he put the heart-wrenching pieces of the puzzle together. They decided that one night would be as far as things would go. But by sheer luck or pure chance, he ran into her again at a house party that weekend.
It must’ve been fate or destiny or both.
Whatever the case, lightning struck that night in the waning days of October. The time flew by, and on a cold, wet January morning, Rebecca Norman walked out of his dingy apartment and boarded a plane bound for DC on the arm of Spencer Alvey. He never spoke to her again.
Rebecca and Spencer married the following spring and moved into a Georgetown mansion. The young congressman from a political family and his beautiful new wife, the pair skyrocketed into DC stardom. Bitter, Joshua tried not to follow the congressman’s career. He boxed up some mementos, one or two personal items she left in his apartment, tucked them in the back of his closet and concentrated on the law. Though she left for her own reasons and without much concern for his feelings, he could thank her now for doing him the favor. For somebody born poor who still remembered going to sleep on an empty stomach, when success dangled within your grasp, meaningful distractions, however beautiful and romantic they might seem, amounted to speed bumps on the journey, obstacles to overcome.
Joshua stood to get her attention. At six feet three inches with a runner’s physique and dressed in a bespoke suit, she’d have to be blind to miss him. Her eyesight hadn’t degenerated. Almost at once, she recognized him and like their last encounter, he grappled with the full meaning of her expression. Never a shy woman, Rebecca walked right up to him.
“Joshua,” she said.
“Rebecca.” He brushed a thin kiss on her cheek, breathing in her perfume. Her twenty-nine-year-old self wore a more sophisticated fragrance, but the notes provoked a similar response. Stirring up dormant feelings, her pull seduced him like a siren’s song. Joshua backed away. Their eyes met and for a moment it was like October all over again. “Rebecca, this is Jaime Lincoln. Jaime’s a client.”
“Rebecca Alvey.
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