David Kessler: No Way Out

However, her employers were far from displeased with her performance and wanted to keep her on. They just didn’t have the right vacancy. But they made it very clear that there were more prospects of upward mobility on the West Coast and if she wanted it, there was a job waiting for her at their Los Angeles office.

She wasn’t altogether comfortable about moving to the West Coast. But that was where the work opportunity took her.

“And what if I don’t make the grade?” asked Andi, still seeking reassurance.

“ Hey, listen ,” said Gene firmly, “I don’t want to hear any of that. There’s nothing to stop you except fear — and if you let that get to you, I’ll be right behind you, ready to take a paddle to that cute little butt of yours.”

“My butt’s not so little,” said Andi, but this time with humor rather than self-pity.

In truth, Andi’s butt was fine, as any red-blooded male would have been only too happy to testify.

There was a hard side to Gene. But it was precisely Gene’s confidence in decision making that Andi loved most. On all the important matters, it was Gene who decided for both of them. It was Gene who had decided that they would come to live out here in California after Andi told her about the work opportunity. Andi would never have demanded it for herself, much as she had wanted it. She still lacked the self-confidence to stand up to Gene — to the world yes, but not to Gene. And Gene herself knew that Andi needed to make the move for her career. It wasn’t in Gene’s personal interests to make the move, but she cared too much for Andi to let that stand in their way.

So when it came to the crunch, Gene was ready to uproot herself and start again on the other side of the country.

It’s only a sacrifice if you give up the greater value for the lesser one, Gene had told herself, remembering the philosophy that had given her so much strength when she really needed it.

Andi’s happiness means more to me than my two-bit career. So it isn’t really a sacrifice.

What Gene loved about Andi was that she was gentle and soft on the outside, yet fiery and determined when her sense of injustice was aroused. It was a paradox that was expressed as eloquently in Andi’s eyes as in her words. The eyes had a strange quality that was as frightening as it was fascinating: those eyes could look both menacing and vulnerable at the same time. It was Andi’s eyes that Gene had originally fallen in love with. When Gene looked into Andi’s eyes the first time they met, the beseeching, helpless look quickly dissolved into anger… no, not anger… tenacity.

The law was a natural field of endeavor for her. But it had to be the right sort of law. She was a crusader for justice and she became passionate to the point of ferocity when confronted by injustice in any of its countless forms. Gene had always found it strange that Andi had been ready to work as a defense lawyer for so long. She may have bitched about it, but she stuck it out — even though it was evident that it was causing her pain and leaving her unfulfilled. But Andi had made her choice and Gene was a firm believer in people making their own choices.

As the car slowed down, Gene gave Andi an encouraging smile and then looked around at the office buildings of the town center. Andi smiled back, encouraged by Gene’s contagious confidence.

“Looks like we’re here,” said Gene, with an air of finality.

The car pulled up to a halt in front of a large office building. Andi unfastened her seat belt and opened the front passenger door.

“Wish me luck,” she said, taking a deep breath.

Gene looked at her with all the firmness of a strict parent still living in the mid-Victorian era. But the voice was strangely gentle.

“I won’t do that honey, ‘cause you don’t need luck.”

Gene slid her left hand behind Andi’s head, leaned over and kissed Andi on the lips. She had a way of making Andi feel good whenever the fear and self-doubt threatened to get the better of her. She had many ways in fact of massaging Andi’s ego. This was only one of them.

That’s why I love you Gene , thought Andi, closing her eyes. But she didn’t say it. She just held on a moment longer than Gene did, almost clinging like a child, before letting go and getting out of the car. She wanted to stay something, but the jitters were still with her and she knew that Gene could sense it.

“Get in there and knock ’em dead honey!”

Andi closed the door and walked towards the building. Ignoring the names of the countless law and accountancy firms on the nameplates, she walked into the building and presented her ID to security.

Outside, Gene watched Andi enter the building like a mother watching her tearful kid vanish into the crowd of other children on her first day at kindergarden. Then she brought the engine to life with a roar, made an aggressive U-turn and drove back the way she came. She knew it was going to be a tough day for Andi — first days always are.

These thoughts were cut short by her cell phone. It was a call from the Say no to Violence Rape Crisis Center.

“Hallo,” said Gene, pressing the button of the hands-free set.

“Gene, we’ve just had a call from Riley.”

Bridget Riley worked at the sex crimes unit in the local police. And a call from Bridget Riley probably meant one thing: another woman had been raped.

“You’re kind of early Alex.”

Alex Sedaka spun round to see a fifty eight year old black man standing there with a beaming smile. Elias Claymore was overdressed for SoCal at this time of year. But Alex knew that he was trying to avoid being recognized. Claymore didn’t usually like to draw so much attention to himself — because then he’d find himself surrounded by autograph seekers.

“I was at the front of the plane,” said Alex, reciprocating the smile. “First one off.”

“How are you doing, old buddy?” asked Claymore, rejecting Alex’s outstretched hand in favor of a warm, brotherly embrace.

Alex returned the greeting and then followed as Claymore led the way

“What’s happening with the show?” asked Alex as they walked towards one of the exits.

“The network renewed the syndication deal.”

Elias Claymore was the next big thing in talk show hosts, after his California-based show had gone national last year. He was tipped by some to become “next Montel Williams.” But others criticized this appellation in view of Claymore’s less than honorable past.

“How’s the love life?”

This was typical Elias, filling the silence with his cheeky humor.

“You know I’m married to my work,” said Alex with a twinkle in his eye. “That’s why I haven’t got time to watch your show.”

“Oh really? That’s not what I heard.”

“What did you hear?”

“Oh a little bird told me something about you being in a relationship with a certain TV reporter.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear on the little bird grapevine.”

“Then how come we’re meeting for breakfast, not lunch.”

“I thought you’re shooting the show after lunch.”

“You could come and watch that too.”

“I’ll have to take a rain check. I’m seeing a…”

Alex’s smile was that of the proverbial angel caught out. Elias smiled back

“So the little bird was right after all.”

“It’s early days yet. Anyway these long-distance relationships don’t usually work out. She’s down here in SoCal and I’m up on the Bay.”

“And you ain’t over Melody yet.”

Alex remained silent. They had been friends ever since Alex had represented Claymore, negotiating a plea-bargain a few years ago. And they had learned to trust and respect one another. But they had also learned to read one another.