Most days I spent the ride to the office looking over briefs, making notes into my phone, or making a few brief calls. Not this morning. I spent it sitting with my hands gripping the edge of the leather seats.
My phone rang and I answered without looking at who it was.
"Evaline, it's Andrew." Fuck. I closed the privacy window between the driver and me.
"Yes, Andrew."
"What colors do you favor? I gathered from the look on you face that fuchsia was not a favorite."
"What are you doing?"
"Shopping for you. You are a very busy woman. I thought I could help."
"I'll do my own shopping."
"Evaline. Don't be like that." His voice carried the edge of command that he used on me last night. "If you don't like anything I buy, we'll send it back."
We'll send it back.
"Colors? Or should I just use my discretion?"
"Do you even have discretion?" My voice rose slightly. "Because a discreteβone of you- wouldn't be calling me in my car, where any one of a half dozen authorities could be listening."
Silence.
"My mistake, Evaline. I will note that for future reference."
"We'll talk when I get home," I said firmly.
"Of course." The line clicked off.
The phone rang again.
"What is it now!" I said.
"Evie? Are you okay?"
"Oh, Betty. Yes. No. I'm getting a massive headache."
"Oh, you didn't find a toy?"
"What? No, I did."
"Ooh!" she cooed. "What model did you get? Is he fun?"
"Betty, I'm sorry, I have some briefs I really need to look at before I hit the office. I'll call you later."
"Okay. But you promise I can try him out, right?"
Oh god. I'd forgotten my half-assed promise to my best friend.
"Gotta go." I ended that call, my heart racing in my chest. What would Andrew think about being passed around as my friends expected? And why the fuck did I care?
Because I didn't want to go to jail, that's why.
I speed-dialed one particular number, one I rarely used, but when I did, it was very necessary.
"I need information on a programmer by the name of Cicily, who worked at or with Androdyne. Yes. ASAP. Thanks."
I dialed my assistant. I could just imagine her feet flying off her desk at the sound of my voice.
"Caroline! I need all case law on non-standard programming in robots."
In the background, computer keys clacked. "Yes, Ms. Shipley. Is this a new client? Should I open a billing file?"
"Not yet. Just get the case law and put it on my desk."
"Oh." On my desk meant it was for my eyes only, and she got a hint of some serious shit going down. This was, of course, why I paid her twice the going rate for any executive assistant, and paid for her twice-a year-vacations, to keep her mouth shut.
"Right away, Ms. Shipley."
"I'll be there in five."
"Yes, Ms. Shipley."
"And I have Carruthers coming in for a nine o'clock."
She tsked. "Have you been looking at your schedule again? You shouldn't. You know it gives you headaches. Everything is set up in your office, even the coffee service."
"Thank you."
"And your husband called."
Fuck.
"Send him the usual check."
"He says he wants to talk to you."
Fuck me.
"Schedule him in any free space."
"He says he wants to go to dinner."
"Tell him I've got plans."
"Do you?"
Besides trying to figure out to do with an illegal robot? One that just thinking about, made me wet between my legs?
"No. And Mr. Shipley doesn't need to know that."
"Yes, Ms. Shipley. I'll see what I can do."
The driver rolled the car up to the entrance of my building. I took a deep breath, pulled on my brief case, and walked into the largest law firm in Washington, one that had my name on it.
#
"Evaline."
My mind had wandered back to that delicious shower last night.