Chapter 9
Title: Chapter 9
Fandom: Breakfast with Scot
Pairing: Eric/Sam
Rating: PG13ish
Summary: Beginnings story cont'd
Disclaimer: No ownership of characters of course
Link to all chapters unavez18.livejournal.com/2044.html
Eric woke up in pain, which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that his head might actually hurt worse than his shoulder for once. And the rest of his body felt like it had been through the ringer as well, probably because he was scrunched up uncomfortably on the couch.
He rolled his eyes to the side slowly, testing to make sure the room didn’t move when they did, and was careful to keep his head still so as not to further aggravate the pounding in his skull. That was when he caught sight of Sam, his knees pulled up to his chest, still fully dressed and apparently awake, or at least partially awake, with bleary red eyes.
“You slept there all night?” The words scratched at Eric’s throat as they came out of his mouth hoarsely.
“Didn’t sleep all that much,” Sam replied heatedly, pressing his lips into a thin, hard line.
“And you slept in your clothes? They’re all wrinkly . . . I know how you hate wrinkly clothes,” Eric continued, hoping to lighten Sam’s dire mood.
“It’s not funny, Eric,” Sam shot up from his seat, his hair flopping over his head. “I don’t think it’s funny at all. I was worried, okay? Damn it, there’s a reason they tell you not to drink when you take that shit.”
“I don’t remember drinking that much, Sam, I swear.”
“Well maybe you didn’t, but when you combine it with the vicodin . . .” Sam had started to pace now, one hand brushing back his hair while the other tried unsuccessfully to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt.
“Okay, okay,” Eric interrupted him. He stretched to grab Sam’s pants as he passed by. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I won’t do it again.”
Sam closed his eyes and sank down on the couch beside him. He lifted his hand and left it hovering for a moment like he wanted stroke Eric’s face, but instead shoved it back onto his lap.
“So, you stayed here the whole night . . . to look after me?” Eric asked him after a moment’s silence.
“I told you, I was worried. And don’t you dare even think about asking me where I parked my car,” Sam said, his eyes narrowing with fury. “And now I’m going to walk out to my car in my wrinkly slept-in clothes, and I hope all your neighbors see!”
He got up abruptly and began to head towards the door, but as he did so Eric pulled himself upright, crying out involuntarily from the pain that the sudden movement caused to both his head and shoulder.
Sam turned on a dime and headed straight back to him. “What? What is it?” he said, the fury vanishing, instantly replaced by concern. “Your shoulder? Did you sleep on it wrong?”
Eric had to wait several seconds before the black and blue spots of agony cleared from his vision. “I’m okay,” he said, breathing deeply through his nose.
The pain had been nearly unbearable, but it was worth it, Eric reasoned, if it had gotten Sam to stay for just a moment longer, if it had erased the anger and left him with those compassionate blue eyes Eric was coming to crave.
He took hold of Sam’s hand briefly, just long enough to get eye contact from him, then let go. “Stay for breakfast?”
“Breakfast? You actually want to eat right now?” Sam asked him incredulously.
“No,” Eric admitted. “But I’d still like you to stay a little.”
Sam sighed. “Alright,” he said.
Sam made coffee while Eric stayed on the couch, still not quite ready to rejoin the waking world. Sam was still mad at him, he could tell, because he remained distant and uncharacteristically taciturn as they sipped at the coffee and watched the news together. Eric couldn’t remember everything from the day before, but he did recall he’d been thoroughly disgusted with himself for going to that stupid barbeque when he’d known that being around Sam in public would make him feel like a bumbling fool, then thoroughly disappointed that Sam was not responding to his text, and then thoroughly stupid enough to decide that taking an extra dose of vicodin with his ninth-or possibly tenth-beer of the day was a good idea.
He remembered even less of the night, but he knew he’d been sick and that Sam had been there, caring for him with such tenderness that despite himself, Eric smiled at the memory. People didn’t usually find something positive in the fact they’d gotten so drunk they’d puked their guts out and then woken up with a killer hangover, but Eric had found a silver lining. He’d spent several sick nights after getting out of the hospital, and they’d been every bit as miserable as they were supposed to be, but this time it had been different. This time, he hadn’t been alone.
He wanted to be in Sam’s arms again, like he had been the night before, without any walls between them, but he could never bring himself to ask for that. They never held each other outside of the bedroom, never tucked their hands into one another’s, and rarely kissed without it leading to more southern territory. And Eric knew that was mostly his doing; that the walls were ones he had put up, but he felt safer that way. He could settle for Sam’s company right now, he told himself, for feeling his presence beside him and knowing that if he needed something, Sam would be there for him.
Yes, Sam’s company was sufficient, but touching him would be better. Eric slid his hand over and placed it on Sam’s thigh, squeezing it gently, and Sam finally cracked a smile.
**********
“Eleanor, I need you to take the McNally case,” Sam said when he walked into her fairly spacious office the next afternoon.
“McNally? Why? What bad lawyer crack did he make this time?” Eleanor quipped without looking up from the file she was studying.
“He didn’t do anything. I’d just rather not handle him. I mean, it’s not like he really has all that much going on, and once everything is settled with the Leafs and the endorsement contracts are all figured out, there won’t be much of a reason for him to even have a lawyer.”
“So then why can’t you wait it out through that? I thought you said he’s not that terrible.”
Sam sighed. He’d spent the night alone, even though Eric had called him several times, tossing and turning and mulling over the decision he’d finally reached. If things went bad, or rather, when things went bad, he didn’t want to have to turn up at Eric’s place the next week with lawyerly duties that needed to be fulfilled.
“He’s not that terrible, I just would rather focus on other clients. Seriously, I’ll take whoever comes in next that you don’t want.”
“You’ll do that anyways,” Eleanor countered. “Since I am a junior partner and all, it’s kind of my prerogative to pass the dirty work on to the lowly ones.”
He hadn’t thought she was going to make it easy on him, but it had appeared in the past year that they were developing a blossoming office friendship. She seemed extremely comfortable and open around him in that way flirtatious females often were once they deduced he was gay, and he’d hoped appealing to that side of her might have helped.
“Seriously though, what did he do? You can’t tell me that you just want to up and drop him because you’re bored. You’ve had much more boring shit to handle than his."
For a moment, he considered telling her. It would have made things easier. But friendship or no friendship, it didn’t seem good form to tell his superior he was sleeping with a client.
“So you won’t help me out?” he sighed.
Eleanor smiled at him. “Well, lucky for you, McNally kind of intrigues me. He’s got that dark-brooding-tortured-soul thing going for him-it’s kind of hot.” She smirked. “So, you’re supposed to be meeting with him this afternoon, right? I’ll go with you and see if he’s okay with the switch.”
“This afternoon?” Eric stuttered in dismay. “Not sure about today, I- I should probably talk to him f-“
“It’s this afternoon or bust,” Eleanor said. “I’m really busy the rest of the week. Plus, this is my hottest work outfit,” she informed him, tugging at the peach colored silk shirt underneath her tailored suit jacket so it revealed a hint of cleavage. “Let’s go now.”
She snapped closed the file she had been perusing and headed for the office door, but paused there for a moment, turning back to Sam. “Well, give me five minutes to freshen up my makeup. I’d like to look my best, if you know what I mean,” she added, winking her long lashes at him before heading out.
Sam followed, shaking his head into one of his hands. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
*
Sam’s nervousness had clenched into a hard, cold knot in his stomach by the time he reached Eric’s front door. He’d managed to send out a cryptic text alerting him Eleanor would be coming, just to make sure Eric would be decent, but he hadn’t had the balls to tell him why. He was fairly certain he knew what Eric’s response would be. The man did not like change.
Eleanor laid on the charm thickly when Eric opened the door, extending her hand and smiling sweetly. “Mr. McNally, it’s so good to see you again.”
“Mrs. Windham, right?” Eric said, taking hold of her hand and shaking it as they stepped inside.
“Ms. Windham,” Eleanor corrected quickly, her cheeks flushing a dainty pink, and Sam found himself wondering if she could do that on command. “But you should call me Eleanor.”
“Right.” Eric noded his head. “And I’m Eric.”
“Eric,” she repeated his name with a victorious grin. “Sam and I stopped by to discuss something with you.”
“Right, right,” Eric said, gesturing for them to sit in the living room. He gathered up a t-shirt that had been draped over the coffee table while Sam concentrated very hard on not rolling his eyes in frustration, since he had just picked up the place yesterday.
“Well, as you know, I’m a junior partner at the firm, and Sam has been telling me about your business with us. I’d like to step in for him right now, if that’s okay with you, so he can handle some incoming casework. I know Sam’s an excellent lawyer and he’s definitely on his way up, but I do hope you won’t consider me a downgrade in any way.”
Eric blinked several times, brought his hand to his chin, then put it back down again. He glanced at Sam briefly and was unable to mask his emotions in that split second, allowing Sam to see his distress. “So . . . Sam wouldn’t be my lawyer anymore,” he said slowly.
“Well, he could certainly help me if the situation called for it. He’s still an associate at the firm and it’s really the whole firm that works for you,” Eleanor responded smoothly.
Sam tried not to look guilty, but he wasn’t having much success. Eric’s gaze floated over to him one more time and there was clearly hurt reflected in his eyes.
Eric stood. “Excuse me,” he said. “Left the vicodin in the bedroom and the damn shoulder is killing me.” His face was deadpan as he exited the living room.
Eleanor frowned. “He certainly is hot and cold. I’m getting the feeling he doesn’t want to work with me. Or maybe he just hates all lawyers. Is that why you’re trying to get rid of him?”
“Excuse me for a sec,” Sam interrupted, shooting up and ignoring Eleanor’s startled expression. “Be right back.”
He trailed after Eric and found him sitting on the bed in his room, rubbing at his temples furiously. He shut the door behind him quickly.
“What are you doing?” Eric hissed. “Is she still out there?”
“I told her I was taking a piss,” Sam lied. “Listen, Eric, I’m sorry to spring this on you . . .”
Eric was still rubbing at his forehead and when he finally dropped his hand and looked up his eyes had widened slightly with fear. “Are you breaking up with me?” he asked.
Sam’s heart pounded in his chest rapidly several times Eric looked so dejected and hurt that he felt at first tremendously pleased and then tremendously guilty. “We’d have to be together first to be breaking up."
“You know what I mean. Are you ending things,” Eric spat out, some of the dejection turning into anger.
“No, I’m not doing that either.” Sam sat beside him, as close as he dared without risking a jerked withdrawal. “It’s just that if we are going to keep doing this . . . privately . . . then I think our public lives shouldn’t mix. I just think we should keep things separate.”
Eric pondered the comment for a moment. “Oh,” he said slowly. “Oh, I guess you’re right.” He reached out and patted Sam on the thigh. “Sorry for the freak out. I thought maybe you were still pissed about the other night.”
“It’s alright,” Sam said. “It’s nice to know you care.” Then before he could over-think it, he leaned in to give Eric a quick kiss, and was pleased with the decision when he felt Eric’s lips return the gesture willingly. “Come on, let’s get back out there.”
Eric halted at the door. “You go first, I’ll come out in a minute so it doesn’t look weird.”
Sam rolled his eyes. Some things would never change.
*
Eleanor had driven and they sat silently in her Audi A4 convertible for the first few minutes after they pulled away from Eric’s place. But Sam was all too aware of the sideways glances she kept giving him.
Finally she licked her lips and spoke. “We’re friends, right Sam?”
“Sure, yeah. Listen, I really appreciate your help with this,” Sam responded, hoping that would be the end of the discussion, although he already had sinking feeling that it would not.
“And you’re gay, right?”
Sam raised his eyebrows and nodded. He knew that she knew, but she was courteous enough to have never brought it up since he hadn’t. “Yeah.”
Eleanor was silent for a few more moments. Then she gave him another glance before inhaling sharply. “And Eric McNally, he wouldn’t be, by any chance, would he?”
Sam bit his lip. Damn. Charging after Eric like that had probably not been the smartest idea. He figured he should just lie and say he didn’t know, but he realized he had waited too long before responding to make that believable when he caught Eleanor’s eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Attorney-client privilege,” he muttered.
Eleanor smiled triumphantly. “That means he is, then. I’ve got it! You’re sleeping with him!” she crowed happily.
“God, Eleanor,” Sam said, burying his face in his hands. “Listen, you have to promise me you won’t say anything . . .”
Eleanor waved him off. “I’m his attorney now too, so I get to keep his secrets just like you.” She grinned.
“I mean to him. You can’t say anything to him. He doesn’t want people to know.”
“Oh, deep in the closet now, is he? Huh, I wouldn’t have thought you’d have gone for someone like that, since you seem pretty sure of yourself . . . but he is hot, so I guess I get it. I’d certainly do him.”
Sam smiled half-heartedly, and tried not to feel like he had taken a giant step backwards in his journey through life.
********
Next: Chapter 10
Fandom: Breakfast with Scot
Pairing: Eric/Sam
Rating: PG13ish
Summary: Beginnings story cont'd
Disclaimer: No ownership of characters of course
Link to all chapters unavez18.livejournal.com/2044.html
Eric woke up in pain, which wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that his head might actually hurt worse than his shoulder for once. And the rest of his body felt like it had been through the ringer as well, probably because he was scrunched up uncomfortably on the couch.
He rolled his eyes to the side slowly, testing to make sure the room didn’t move when they did, and was careful to keep his head still so as not to further aggravate the pounding in his skull. That was when he caught sight of Sam, his knees pulled up to his chest, still fully dressed and apparently awake, or at least partially awake, with bleary red eyes.
“You slept there all night?” The words scratched at Eric’s throat as they came out of his mouth hoarsely.
“Didn’t sleep all that much,” Sam replied heatedly, pressing his lips into a thin, hard line.
“And you slept in your clothes? They’re all wrinkly . . . I know how you hate wrinkly clothes,” Eric continued, hoping to lighten Sam’s dire mood.
“It’s not funny, Eric,” Sam shot up from his seat, his hair flopping over his head. “I don’t think it’s funny at all. I was worried, okay? Damn it, there’s a reason they tell you not to drink when you take that shit.”
“I don’t remember drinking that much, Sam, I swear.”
“Well maybe you didn’t, but when you combine it with the vicodin . . .” Sam had started to pace now, one hand brushing back his hair while the other tried unsuccessfully to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt.
“Okay, okay,” Eric interrupted him. He stretched to grab Sam’s pants as he passed by. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I won’t do it again.”
Sam closed his eyes and sank down on the couch beside him. He lifted his hand and left it hovering for a moment like he wanted stroke Eric’s face, but instead shoved it back onto his lap.
“So, you stayed here the whole night . . . to look after me?” Eric asked him after a moment’s silence.
“I told you, I was worried. And don’t you dare even think about asking me where I parked my car,” Sam said, his eyes narrowing with fury. “And now I’m going to walk out to my car in my wrinkly slept-in clothes, and I hope all your neighbors see!”
He got up abruptly and began to head towards the door, but as he did so Eric pulled himself upright, crying out involuntarily from the pain that the sudden movement caused to both his head and shoulder.
Sam turned on a dime and headed straight back to him. “What? What is it?” he said, the fury vanishing, instantly replaced by concern. “Your shoulder? Did you sleep on it wrong?”
Eric had to wait several seconds before the black and blue spots of agony cleared from his vision. “I’m okay,” he said, breathing deeply through his nose.
The pain had been nearly unbearable, but it was worth it, Eric reasoned, if it had gotten Sam to stay for just a moment longer, if it had erased the anger and left him with those compassionate blue eyes Eric was coming to crave.
He took hold of Sam’s hand briefly, just long enough to get eye contact from him, then let go. “Stay for breakfast?”
“Breakfast? You actually want to eat right now?” Sam asked him incredulously.
“No,” Eric admitted. “But I’d still like you to stay a little.”
Sam sighed. “Alright,” he said.
Sam made coffee while Eric stayed on the couch, still not quite ready to rejoin the waking world. Sam was still mad at him, he could tell, because he remained distant and uncharacteristically taciturn as they sipped at the coffee and watched the news together. Eric couldn’t remember everything from the day before, but he did recall he’d been thoroughly disgusted with himself for going to that stupid barbeque when he’d known that being around Sam in public would make him feel like a bumbling fool, then thoroughly disappointed that Sam was not responding to his text, and then thoroughly stupid enough to decide that taking an extra dose of vicodin with his ninth-or possibly tenth-beer of the day was a good idea.
He remembered even less of the night, but he knew he’d been sick and that Sam had been there, caring for him with such tenderness that despite himself, Eric smiled at the memory. People didn’t usually find something positive in the fact they’d gotten so drunk they’d puked their guts out and then woken up with a killer hangover, but Eric had found a silver lining. He’d spent several sick nights after getting out of the hospital, and they’d been every bit as miserable as they were supposed to be, but this time it had been different. This time, he hadn’t been alone.
He wanted to be in Sam’s arms again, like he had been the night before, without any walls between them, but he could never bring himself to ask for that. They never held each other outside of the bedroom, never tucked their hands into one another’s, and rarely kissed without it leading to more southern territory. And Eric knew that was mostly his doing; that the walls were ones he had put up, but he felt safer that way. He could settle for Sam’s company right now, he told himself, for feeling his presence beside him and knowing that if he needed something, Sam would be there for him.
Yes, Sam’s company was sufficient, but touching him would be better. Eric slid his hand over and placed it on Sam’s thigh, squeezing it gently, and Sam finally cracked a smile.
**********
“Eleanor, I need you to take the McNally case,” Sam said when he walked into her fairly spacious office the next afternoon.
“McNally? Why? What bad lawyer crack did he make this time?” Eleanor quipped without looking up from the file she was studying.
“He didn’t do anything. I’d just rather not handle him. I mean, it’s not like he really has all that much going on, and once everything is settled with the Leafs and the endorsement contracts are all figured out, there won’t be much of a reason for him to even have a lawyer.”
“So then why can’t you wait it out through that? I thought you said he’s not that terrible.”
Sam sighed. He’d spent the night alone, even though Eric had called him several times, tossing and turning and mulling over the decision he’d finally reached. If things went bad, or rather, when things went bad, he didn’t want to have to turn up at Eric’s place the next week with lawyerly duties that needed to be fulfilled.
“He’s not that terrible, I just would rather focus on other clients. Seriously, I’ll take whoever comes in next that you don’t want.”
“You’ll do that anyways,” Eleanor countered. “Since I am a junior partner and all, it’s kind of my prerogative to pass the dirty work on to the lowly ones.”
He hadn’t thought she was going to make it easy on him, but it had appeared in the past year that they were developing a blossoming office friendship. She seemed extremely comfortable and open around him in that way flirtatious females often were once they deduced he was gay, and he’d hoped appealing to that side of her might have helped.
“Seriously though, what did he do? You can’t tell me that you just want to up and drop him because you’re bored. You’ve had much more boring shit to handle than his."
For a moment, he considered telling her. It would have made things easier. But friendship or no friendship, it didn’t seem good form to tell his superior he was sleeping with a client.
“So you won’t help me out?” he sighed.
Eleanor smiled at him. “Well, lucky for you, McNally kind of intrigues me. He’s got that dark-brooding-tortured-soul thing going for him-it’s kind of hot.” She smirked. “So, you’re supposed to be meeting with him this afternoon, right? I’ll go with you and see if he’s okay with the switch.”
“This afternoon?” Eric stuttered in dismay. “Not sure about today, I- I should probably talk to him f-“
“It’s this afternoon or bust,” Eleanor said. “I’m really busy the rest of the week. Plus, this is my hottest work outfit,” she informed him, tugging at the peach colored silk shirt underneath her tailored suit jacket so it revealed a hint of cleavage. “Let’s go now.”
She snapped closed the file she had been perusing and headed for the office door, but paused there for a moment, turning back to Sam. “Well, give me five minutes to freshen up my makeup. I’d like to look my best, if you know what I mean,” she added, winking her long lashes at him before heading out.
Sam followed, shaking his head into one of his hands. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
*
Sam’s nervousness had clenched into a hard, cold knot in his stomach by the time he reached Eric’s front door. He’d managed to send out a cryptic text alerting him Eleanor would be coming, just to make sure Eric would be decent, but he hadn’t had the balls to tell him why. He was fairly certain he knew what Eric’s response would be. The man did not like change.
Eleanor laid on the charm thickly when Eric opened the door, extending her hand and smiling sweetly. “Mr. McNally, it’s so good to see you again.”
“Mrs. Windham, right?” Eric said, taking hold of her hand and shaking it as they stepped inside.
“Ms. Windham,” Eleanor corrected quickly, her cheeks flushing a dainty pink, and Sam found himself wondering if she could do that on command. “But you should call me Eleanor.”
“Right.” Eric noded his head. “And I’m Eric.”
“Eric,” she repeated his name with a victorious grin. “Sam and I stopped by to discuss something with you.”
“Right, right,” Eric said, gesturing for them to sit in the living room. He gathered up a t-shirt that had been draped over the coffee table while Sam concentrated very hard on not rolling his eyes in frustration, since he had just picked up the place yesterday.
“Well, as you know, I’m a junior partner at the firm, and Sam has been telling me about your business with us. I’d like to step in for him right now, if that’s okay with you, so he can handle some incoming casework. I know Sam’s an excellent lawyer and he’s definitely on his way up, but I do hope you won’t consider me a downgrade in any way.”
Eric blinked several times, brought his hand to his chin, then put it back down again. He glanced at Sam briefly and was unable to mask his emotions in that split second, allowing Sam to see his distress. “So . . . Sam wouldn’t be my lawyer anymore,” he said slowly.
“Well, he could certainly help me if the situation called for it. He’s still an associate at the firm and it’s really the whole firm that works for you,” Eleanor responded smoothly.
Sam tried not to look guilty, but he wasn’t having much success. Eric’s gaze floated over to him one more time and there was clearly hurt reflected in his eyes.
Eric stood. “Excuse me,” he said. “Left the vicodin in the bedroom and the damn shoulder is killing me.” His face was deadpan as he exited the living room.
Eleanor frowned. “He certainly is hot and cold. I’m getting the feeling he doesn’t want to work with me. Or maybe he just hates all lawyers. Is that why you’re trying to get rid of him?”
“Excuse me for a sec,” Sam interrupted, shooting up and ignoring Eleanor’s startled expression. “Be right back.”
He trailed after Eric and found him sitting on the bed in his room, rubbing at his temples furiously. He shut the door behind him quickly.
“What are you doing?” Eric hissed. “Is she still out there?”
“I told her I was taking a piss,” Sam lied. “Listen, Eric, I’m sorry to spring this on you . . .”
Eric was still rubbing at his forehead and when he finally dropped his hand and looked up his eyes had widened slightly with fear. “Are you breaking up with me?” he asked.
Sam’s heart pounded in his chest rapidly several times Eric looked so dejected and hurt that he felt at first tremendously pleased and then tremendously guilty. “We’d have to be together first to be breaking up."
“You know what I mean. Are you ending things,” Eric spat out, some of the dejection turning into anger.
“No, I’m not doing that either.” Sam sat beside him, as close as he dared without risking a jerked withdrawal. “It’s just that if we are going to keep doing this . . . privately . . . then I think our public lives shouldn’t mix. I just think we should keep things separate.”
Eric pondered the comment for a moment. “Oh,” he said slowly. “Oh, I guess you’re right.” He reached out and patted Sam on the thigh. “Sorry for the freak out. I thought maybe you were still pissed about the other night.”
“It’s alright,” Sam said. “It’s nice to know you care.” Then before he could over-think it, he leaned in to give Eric a quick kiss, and was pleased with the decision when he felt Eric’s lips return the gesture willingly. “Come on, let’s get back out there.”
Eric halted at the door. “You go first, I’ll come out in a minute so it doesn’t look weird.”
Sam rolled his eyes. Some things would never change.
*
Eleanor had driven and they sat silently in her Audi A4 convertible for the first few minutes after they pulled away from Eric’s place. But Sam was all too aware of the sideways glances she kept giving him.
Finally she licked her lips and spoke. “We’re friends, right Sam?”
“Sure, yeah. Listen, I really appreciate your help with this,” Sam responded, hoping that would be the end of the discussion, although he already had sinking feeling that it would not.
“And you’re gay, right?”
Sam raised his eyebrows and nodded. He knew that she knew, but she was courteous enough to have never brought it up since he hadn’t. “Yeah.”
Eleanor was silent for a few more moments. Then she gave him another glance before inhaling sharply. “And Eric McNally, he wouldn’t be, by any chance, would he?”
Sam bit his lip. Damn. Charging after Eric like that had probably not been the smartest idea. He figured he should just lie and say he didn’t know, but he realized he had waited too long before responding to make that believable when he caught Eleanor’s eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Attorney-client privilege,” he muttered.
Eleanor smiled triumphantly. “That means he is, then. I’ve got it! You’re sleeping with him!” she crowed happily.
“God, Eleanor,” Sam said, burying his face in his hands. “Listen, you have to promise me you won’t say anything . . .”
Eleanor waved him off. “I’m his attorney now too, so I get to keep his secrets just like you.” She grinned.
“I mean to him. You can’t say anything to him. He doesn’t want people to know.”
“Oh, deep in the closet now, is he? Huh, I wouldn’t have thought you’d have gone for someone like that, since you seem pretty sure of yourself . . . but he is hot, so I guess I get it. I’d certainly do him.”
Sam smiled half-heartedly, and tried not to feel like he had taken a giant step backwards in his journey through life.
********
Next: Chapter 10