It Was Only a Kiss

By T. Ceylon

Alex Figueroa's career as an attorney for a Civil Rights firm is going great--until he's assigned a new, annoyingly cute (and just annoying) client.  Wealthy and well-connected, Jack Kipling is nothing like the people Alex usually represents.  To Alex's surprise, spending time with Jack is actually enjoyable.  An ill-timed intervention with his friends over his lack of social life leads Alex to imply Jack is not a client at all, but a date.  Keeping the two roles separate is harder than it sounded, and Alex is soon in over his head.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. Ceylon
• Release date: Jul 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386454472

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

I would like to think that I know what I’m doing, Alex Figueroa joked.  His cell was pressed between his ear and his shoulder, one hand holding his briefcase and the other the bar above his head.  The New York City subway rattled along, buildings flashing by outside.  I told you, I’ll be there tonight.

Yeah, right.

Alex rolled his eyes at his friend’s obvious disbelief and adjusted his grip on the bar in anticipation of the corner the subway would be rounding in a second.

Kris, I swear.  The subway car tilted to the side and Alex leaned into it, not missing a beat.  I get off work at five, I can be out of the office in ten minutes.  Even if I have to take a different train, I’ll still be at your place by six, which is right on time for dinner.

You say you get off at five, but when do you actually leave before seven or eight?

I promise.  I should be wrapping up things by four.  I know I’ve been swamped by this case, but—well, I’m not sorry.  Sorry.  Alex checked his reflection in the subway window while he talked, smoothing out wrinkles in his cheap gray suit.  It’s going really well.  I actually got the district superintendent on record yesterday saying he didn’t give a fig about the school’s privacy policy when it came to some supposed parents’ right to know about if little Nicky’s actually going by Nicole.  That’s a huge frickin’ deal.  I’ve been busting my ass for years and I just know this is going to finally be the career breakthrough I need.

I’m happy for you, Alex, but aren’t you not supposed to talk about this in public?

Alex waved a hand as if she could see him.  I’m on a commuter line, Kris, no-one cares.  Look, he pivoted, six p.m., your place.  I promise.  Maybe six-thirty.

"Alex."

He cut her off before she could protest any further.  This is my stop.  Have a good day at work!

Alex hung up and walked off of the train and out of the station with the steady flow of humanity constantly moving in and out of New York’s financial district.  It was a dreary October day, not properly cold out although finally not too humid and hot to breathe.  The thick stone and cement of the buildings towering over the streets mimicked the heavy sky overhead. 

Alex loved it.

He whistled to himself as he wove through the foot traffic, pausing at a cart to buy himself a coffee and breakfast sandwich.  He dropped his change in the tip jar and continued on his way, rounding a corner and approaching a tall office building with an intimidating set of steps up to a set of double glass doors, bordered in iron.  A uniformed security guard stood just off to the side of the base of the steps, his hands clasped in front of him and his face steely.

Chepe, Alex called out extending his fist.  The guard’s expression instantly changed into a grin as he greeted him.

Alex, he said in a strong Mexican accent, every day?

Of course.  Every day.  Who’s on tonight?

Hannington.

New guy?  Light hair?

That’s him.

All right.  I should be out early today, so I’ll probably see you again before you leave.

Chepe laughed.  All right, he said.  We will see.

Swear to God, Alex called, raising both arms to underscore his sincerity.  He was walking backwards away from Chepe, but not up the main stairs.  I promised a friend I’d be at her thing tonight, so I’m clocking out right on time.

Chepe shook his head and folded his hands in front of himself again, his face once more impassible as he stared down the street.

Bah.  Alex gave a short scoff in protest and then turned forward, just in time to head down a smaller flight of stairs tucked behind a dumpster and a line of shrubbery.  A heavy gray door was located at the end of the stairs, a puddle of dirty water and a plastic wrapper between it and the final step.  Two unassuming signs on the door read, Fleming & Ellis and then Civil Rights.  Alex pushed the door open and let himself into a cramped office complex, much less impressive than anything that promised to be on the above ground floors of the building.  The fluorescent overhead lights were already on and stale cold air from the conditioning system greeted him as the door swung shut behind it, pausing a few inches from the frame before slamming into place.

Alex?

Right here.  Alex put his things down at a space carved out on a table otherwise overflowing with pulled documents and files.  His briefcase slid a small stack of papers to the ground.  What is it, Sadia?

The tall young woman working at her own corner of the table propped her elbow up and leaned her face on her hand.  A bright orange head wrap neatly covered her hair.  A new case came in for you to follow up on.

Where?

She indicated with a pointed nod towards the floor.

Oh—  Alex quickly knelt down to gather the spilled papers.  Fine, I’ll deal with this first.  I still need to—Have you been here long already?

I opened up.  Marjorie came in just a minute ago and is making a call in the back.

Boss man?

Michael’s with her.

Got it.

Papers collected, Alex sat on his heels to flip through them.  They were a collection of notes: names, contact information, partial summaries.  Something about a pattern of discrimination at work, but with very little actual detail.

This guy’s a medical resident?  How’d he even find us?  They’re not union.

Sadia shrugged.  People talk.  Maybe he had a client who knew about us.

I guess.  Alex unwrapped his sandwich and took a bite.  Mmhmph?  He offered it to