WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT WHEN CARMA'S INVOLVED?

TRES

THE MORNING BEFORE WORK......

Opening my eyes, there she was. “Are you taking me to Paris, baby?”

“Carma, I already told you. I have a stack of cases that need to be dealt with. A vacation is the furthest thing from my mind.”

“Buuuutttt yyyyooooouuuuu ppproommmiiissssseeeeeedddddd.” A thirty-eight-year-old woman acting like a six-year-old child, all because I have to work if I am to afford the lavish life and vacations that she loves so much is not particularly attractive.

“STOP. JUST FCKIN’ STOP. I refuse to deal with your distractions.”

“Baby, I hate seeing you this stressed out. How can you not see that you need a vacation?” We took one a month ago for two weeks. “Your father works you too hard. In turn, you take it out on me.” My dad does no such thing. I busted my hump to prove I was Savage & Sons Law material. Nope, it was not handed to me.

Carma and I have been together a mere six months. Though I have been in love with her for years. All of them were before I met her. Someone close to me had been involved with her. He warned me not to go there, but the heart wants what the heart wants. I believe people act accordingly depending on who they are around. It just so happened that was the case with Carma and I until recently. Turns out, who she really is does not come anywhere near who I thought she would be with me. A major disappointment, but I don’t know if I can stop loving her. I know what she does and who she does it with. Fckin’ hell, the entire world knows. I am not ready to release her. To be honest, I do not want to.

Years were spent pining for Carma. A new woman entered my life. It threw me for a loop. Not a single word was spoken between us during our introduction. A handshake, barely a smile, and a nod was all I gave. There was no mistaking the sense I got that she is a force to be reckoned with. With all the wonders of the world I am fascinated by, there is no logical reason for me to be in wonderment of her. To put it bluntly, she is not the type I normally surround myself with. Could that be it? Who knows?

Let me tell you a story of how it came to be. During a run one late night, I was in the mood to listen to a podcast. Two hosts that purposefully confused logic and law review ongoing and completed trials. While they are not the brightest bulbs in the package, they sometimes make good points. The name Jorge Sanchez Sr. caught my attention. He is a prosecutor that I have never met but heard a lot about. Whenever the name is mentioned in Dad’s presence, whoever is in the vicinity gets pulled in and forced to listen as he recollects how Mr. Sanchez slipped through his fingers. The entire family can recite the story word for word. We do behind his back for a good laugh before Mom tells us to knock it off.

During the podcast, the hosts talked about a case in which his daughter, Harmoney Izabella Sanchez, was pitted against him. Usually, the hosts choose a side to argue, and this time was no different. For real, I am more than glad to work at Dad’s side. If I had to sit across the aisle from him at the opposing table, he would crush me. The case could be rock solid and one that a toddler could not lose. I would out of plain ole fear. If you ask me, his daughter has a giant pair of stones. After listening to a few episodes, it prompted me to investigate the case. Finding out it was televised gave me the chance to watch her demeanor, confidence, conduct, and skill safely and quietly from my office.

Right away she impressed me with her ability to sniff out a lie. Even though her father was at the top of his game, she managed to remain steps ahead the entire case. You could see the anger in his face as much of the evidence produced by the police and other credible agencies was tarnished after a few commonsense questions. Miss Sanchez went all out to do her due diligence to prove her client’s innocence beyond the state’s definition of reasonable doubt. Her only quote to reporters was, “My client’s innocence has never been a question in my mind.”

Had Dad heard about the case, the story and his regrets would have been told yet again. I have been on Dad’s sh*t list over who I chose to be with. To get back in his good graces, I brought the case to his attention, and I may have used his regret to my advantage. The case was not over, so Dad, my brothers, and I gathered every night to watch a couple of hours at a time until we were caught up. We were convinced the time had come for her to rest her case. In the plot twist of the century, she recalled the responding officer for a few follow-up questions. Jorge objected to the video she wanted to show, but the judge allowed it because it was brought to her attention that morning. The footage was crystal clear. No one expected the officer’s outburst to be an all-out admission of planting evidence to frame the defendant. Why did he do it? He was confident the defendant committed a similar crime and got away scot-free. The vote to offer Harmoney Sanchez a seat in the firm was unanimous. We were confident she would be a great investment for the firm. Dad’s knack for finding and obtaining great local talent in every state is very good. His plan is to open a firm in every state. A pipe dream for many people that start a business with plans to branch out. Dad’s determined and he’s about halfway there. His goal is to stop wasting money to ship the talent to him.

Earlier hires were interviewed by me. Because of my not-so-great publicity, Dad forbade me from contacting her with his offer. Carma and my brother played their parts in making me look bad. Saying ‘thank you’ will never do to show her my appreciation. (Sarcasm, of course) According to her, making and keeping her happy is a privilege. Miss Sanchez took her sweet time accepting Dad’s over-the-top offer. If she hadn’t, I would’ve wondered if she had a mental disease. It’s the only thing that would explain why a person passes up a ton of money and amenities with no strings attached. At least dad trusted me enough to ensure she received everything he promised.

Finally meeting her was an experience all its own. She exuded a confidence we were unable to fully detect through a screen. The overly enthusiastic attitude she had about work made my brothers and I look like slackers. After introductions, I found myself constantly keeking her way. This in no way is meant to sound conceited, but females gawk at the men in my family. I am no exception. But this woman never let on if she noticed me noticing her and never looked at me once. Pretending you belong and knowing are quite different. Harmoney Sanchez knew she belonged. I liked that about her.

Dad believes himself to be an evil genius. His fingers, toes, and every other body part he could cross were crossed, hoping Carma found out my partner on the case was female. Why? He wanted to rid the family of her. Her jealousy would’ve hit max payload and a scene was sure to ensue. Carma walking away from our relationship wasn’t happening. Playing defense was harder than it should have been. That left the entire case in Miss Sanchez’s capable hands. The newbie hadn’t tattled on me, and I knew this because my company wasn’t requested in the principal’s office. Finding a free moment, I scoured the file. Sentences and entire paragraphs were circled with a large question mark beside them. Was she questioning the statement or the person giving it, or both?

Carma reminded me of a boil that wouldn’t go away. With Dad expecting to see the case in the win pile sooner rather than later, I knew getting on the ball was going to require me to ignore Carma. I miss the days when I could relax at home on the days I didn’t need to show my mug in the office. She makes working from home a no-go. While she was in the shower, I jammed files into my already stretched out briefcase and made my escape to the office.

Miss Sanchez’s desk is visible from the copy room. A perfect place for me to survey her from afar. I’ve never met anyone that shared Dad’s laser-focused concentration. Not even his kids. By now she should know the file word for word, and yet she continues to look over the same documents obsessively. Not a single fact or statement was added, and nothing had been removed. One of our paralegals passed by her and said hello. She responded without looking up. In fact, she blocked her ears with earbuds.

Returning to my office, it was time to put in an honest day's work. Or at least try to. Carma called my cell fifteen times, all of which I ignored. My mood affected my work, so I asked Kimmie, my receptionist, to jot down any messages and hold all calls until I resurfaced. Leaving it up to her to inform Carma of this, Kimmie always got threatened with termination. As if Carma had the authority to do so. Time passed quickly and if it wasn’t for Kimmie’s text, my lunch meeting at the coffee shop across the street would’ve been stood up. As I appeared, Kimmie held the receiver in her hand, pointing it at me. The shrill voice on the other end was ear-splitting. Nothing against Kimmie, she can only do so much before she loses her sh*t.

I ripped the phone from her hand and yelled, “WHAT, CARMA? WHAT THE FCK COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT NOW? MY FCKIN’ KIDNEY?”

She claimed to want to know if I was available for lunch. More like she wanted to know if I was in the office. If it wasn’t for my client wanting to discuss a few things and then my needing to link up with Miss Sanchez about our case, just to shut her up, I’d take her out. She asked again to join my meeting. Thank God for confidentiality. How many times did I tell her no? I lost count. When someone says their girlfriend is crazy, I wonder if they are on Carma’s level of crazy. With an attitude she informed me her plans suddenly changed, and she was going to go out with her friends. Landlines are great. Using more force than necessary, I slammed the receiver down to end the call.

After the way too long lunch, I decided to see if Miss Sanchez cracked the code to our client's innocence. I took it as a bad sign to see her face still buried in the file. Walking up to her desk, I tapped a few times. She was that engrossed, my tapping didn't distract her and neither did the constant clearing of my throat. All else had failed. I eased the page from her fingertips. Papercuts are the worst, after all. People have died from them. Unbelievably, it is the most common office injury ahead of stapling your fingers together.

You could say she was a teensy bit upset at the interruption. When her greenish blue eyes met mine, instant recognition before popping from their sockets as she tore the buds from her ears and stood. She stammered a bit as her brain worked to put together a functioning sentence with an apology. All I wanted was to tell her how dazzled I was by her commitment. Though I had some serious questions about her questions.

Women think they hide their facial expressions well. It’s funny because Miss Sanchez didn’t seem to care if she projected her emotions. I’ve never met a woman unaffected by my charm or perfect smile. Obviously, she was angry, but she managed to plaster a smile on her natural light-brown skinned face. Kimmie told me about Miss Sanchez's late nights. My fcked up personal life is no excuse for leaving her high and dry. I inquired if the night was going to be a long one. She was all too willing to sacrifice her time. Was it her plan to take over by making the rest of us look bad? Testing limits is my forte. I wanted to see if she would express her gumption and stand up to me and go home.

Dad and I did not care if she had a husband or family when we recruited her. As fcked up as this is going to sound, none of us bothered to ask those basic questions. Feeling a type of way about the nosy inquiry, I demurely asked. Then I smiled like a fcking goofball at her answer. A little weird, no? More like I remember the days before Carma, and I miss them more often than not. Knowing Carma is getting fcked by her ex tonight, I thought it would be a good idea to work from home. Just not mine. Miss Sanchez wanted to say no to my recommendation. Her pupils reacted, and her unspoken answer was abundantly clear. I steeled myself, ready to hear how inappropriate the suggestion was. It never spilled out, so I had a date at her place. My charm still works.