In Contempt

•Finding one's path while sacrificing

Lorraine sat at her desk at Pierre & Associates, the soft glow of her desk lamp illuminating a mountain of paperwork. The whistleblower case had taken a turn, and Rachel Fame had tasked her with preparing for a crucial motion hearing. The stakes were high, and Lorraine knew her work over the next few days could set the tone for the entire litigation process.
As she pored over the case files, Lorraine felt a familiar thrill rising in her chest. This was where she thrived—building arguments, finding the threads of truth buried in a mess of contradictory evidence, and crafting a strategy that would hold up under scrutiny.
Rachel had once told her that litigation was where the best attorneys proved their worth, and Lorraine was beginning to see why. She wasn't just learning the law—she was learning how to fight with it, to use it as a tool for justice.
The following morning, Rachel called Lorraine into her office. Rachel was standing by the window, her sharp suit immaculate as always, her expression unreadable.
"Baxter," she said, turning to face her. "I've been reviewing your research on the whistleblower case. It's solid, but we're at the point where we need more than research. We need arguments."
Lorraine straightened in her seat. "What do you need from me, Ms. Fame?"
Rachel studied her for a moment before speaking. "I want you to prepare the first draft of the oral argument for the motion hearing. We're moving to dismiss part of the counterclaim, and I need something compelling."
Lorraine's heart skipped a beat. Preparing oral arguments, even in draft form, was a task usually reserved for associates, not interns.
"I'll get started right away," Lorraine said, her voice steady despite the excitement bubbling beneath the surface.
"Good," Rachel said, sitting down at her desk. "And remember—concise, logical, and persuasive. If you can't convince me, you won't convince the judge."
Lorraine spent the next two days immersed in the case, her notebook filled with annotated legal precedents and bullet-pointed arguments. She felt the familiar tug of anxiety as she worked, but it was tempered by an even stronger sense of purpose.
When she presented her draft to Rachel, she braced herself for criticism. Rachel was known for her exacting standards, and Lorraine knew she would need to prove herself.
"This is... good," Rachel said after reading through the argument. Her tone was measured, but Lorraine could hear the hint of approval. "You've captured the essence of the case. It needs polishing, but this is a strong foundation."
"Thank you, Ms. Fame," Lorraine said, her chest swelling with pride.
Rachel leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "Have you considered litigation as a career focus?"
Lorraine blinked, surprised by the question. "I've thought about it," she admitted. "I enjoy the research and writing, but I've never pictured myself in the courtroom."
"You should start picturing it," Rachel said firmly. "You've got the instincts for it. And if you can combine that with the confidence to argue in front of a judge, you'll go far in this field."
The compliment caught Lorraine off guard, but it also planted a seed of possibility. Could she see herself as a litigator? The idea both excited and terrified her.
That evening, Lorraine shared her thoughts with Jericho over dinner.
"Rachel thinks I should go into litigation," she said, twirling her fork in her pasta.
Jericho raised an eyebrow. "And how do you feel about that?"
"I don't know," Lorraine admitted. "It's a big leap. I love the research and the strategy, but standing in front of a judge, arguing a case? That feels... intimidating."
Jericho leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. "You're one of the smartest people I know, Lorraine. If anyone can handle a courtroom, it's you. You've been fighting your whole life—for your education, your career, your place at that firm. Standing in front of a judge is just another kind of fight."
Lorraine smiled, his words bolstering her confidence. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is," Jericho said with a grin. "Just remember—whether it's in a courtroom or in life, you've got what it takes to win."
Over the next few weeks, Lorraine began to embrace the idea of becoming a litigator. She threw herself into every opportunity to hone her skills, volunteering to help with motion hearings and shadowing Rachel and Aaron during their court appearances.
One afternoon, Aaron caught her reviewing one of his trial transcripts in the firm's library.
"Baxter," he said, his tone as sharp as ever. "What are you doing with that?"
Lorraine looked up, startled. "Studying," she said simply.
Aaron raised an eyebrow. "Studying what?"
"Your technique," Lorraine admitted. "You're one of the best litigators at the firm. I figured I could learn a thing or two."
Aaron smirked, clearly amused. "Flattery won't get you far, Baxter. But if you want to learn, I might have a few pointers."
Lorraine blinked, surprised by his offer. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Pierre."
"Good," Aaron said, pulling up a chair. "Let's start with the basics. The first rule of litigation? Never ask a question you don't already know the answer to."
As he walked her through the transcript, Lorraine felt a spark of excitement. For the first time, she could see herself standing at the front of a courtroom, using her voice and her knowledge to fight for justice.
And as the days turned into weeks, Lorraine realized that she wasn't just surviving at Pierre & Associates—she was thriving
The soft hum of the office enveloped Lorraine as she settled into her chair, Rachel's words from lunch replaying in her mind. The question lingered like an unanswered call: What are you willing to sacrifice?
Her gaze drifted toward her open case files, but instead of diving in, she found herself staring at the corner of her desk, where a small photo of her and Jericho sat. It had been taken a few weeks ago at a street festival, both of them laughing, carefree for the first time in what felt like ages.
Could she balance her life with Jericho and the demands of her budding legal career? Or was Rachel right—was it only a matter of time before something, or someone, had to give?
That evening, as Lorraine walked out of the office, she spotted Jericho waiting for her by the curb, leaning casually against his car. His easy smile greeted her like a warm embrace.
"Rough day?" he asked as she approached.
"You could say that," Lorraine replied, exhaling as he pulled her into a hug.
"Well, lucky for you, I've got dinner and no heavy conversations planned," Jericho said, opening the car door for her.
She smiled, grateful for his unwavering support. "You're too good to me, you know that?"
"Someone's gotta be," he teased, shutting the door after her.
Over dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant, Lorraine couldn't stop thinking about Rachel's advice. As Jericho told her about his day, she found herself distracted, her mind tugged between the present and the future.
"Alright," Jericho said, setting his fork down and leaning forward. "What's going on in that lawyer brain of yours? You've been somewhere else all night."
Lorraine sighed, swirling her glass of wine. "Rachel and I had lunch today. She told me about her career, how she never let anyone or anything distract her from making it to the top."
Jericho nodded slowly. "Sounds like Rachel."
"She said she balanced three lovers at one point," Lorraine said, laughing lightly, "but none of them ever lasted because she never let anyone get too close. She didn't let anything compromise her career."
Jericho raised an eyebrow. "And you're wondering if you're supposed to follow that blueprint?"
Lorraine hesitated, her gaze dropping to her plate. "I guess I am. She made it sound like the only way to succeed at this level is to cut out anything that might slow me down."
Jericho reached across the table, taking her hand. "Lorraine, listen to me. Rachel's path is Rachel's. It doesn't have to be yours. You're ambitious, and that's one of the things I love about you, but you don't have to sacrifice everything to get where you want to go. You're allowed to have both—a career and someone who supports you through it."
"What if she's right, though?" Lorraine asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if I can't have both?"
Jericho's grip on her hand tightened slightly. "Then you find a way to prove her wrong. But that doesn't mean you have to give up what makes you happy. And if it ever comes down to choosing, Lorraine, know this: I'm rooting for you no matter what. Always."
His words settled over her like a balm, easing the tension she hadn't realized she was holding.
"I don't deserve you," she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Yes, you do," Jericho replied without hesitation. "Now, stop worrying about Rachel Fame and eat your tiramisu."
The next morning, Lorraine arrived at the office with a renewed sense of purpose. She had decided that Rachel's path wasn't hers to follow—not entirely, at least. She would find her own way, one that allowed her to hold onto the things that mattered most.
Her first task of the day was a strategy meeting with Rachel and Aaron about the whistleblower case. As she walked into the conference room, she felt their eyes on her, but instead of the usual nerves, she felt steady.
"Morning, Baxter," Aaron said, glancing up from his laptop. "Let's hear what you've got for us."
Lorraine laid out her notes with precision, presenting a new angle she'd uncovered in the whistleblower's testimony. As she spoke, she saw Rachel nodding slightly, her sharp eyes focused.
When Lorraine finished, Rachel leaned back in her chair, a rare smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Good work, Lorraine. You're thinking like a litigator."
"Thank you, Ms. Fame," Lorraine said, her tone even.
Aaron chimed in, his tone as dry as ever. "Don't let it go to your head, Baxter. There's still plenty of work to do."
Lorraine smiled faintly. "Wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Pierre."
As the meeting wrapped up, Rachel caught Lorraine's arm as she headed for the door.
"Baxter," Rachel said, her voice low enough that only Lorraine could hear. "Whatever you're doing, keep it up. You're on the right track."
Lorraine nodded, her confidence bolstered.
That evening, as Lorraine sat in her apartment reviewing documents, she paused to glance at the photo of her and Jericho on her desk. For the first time, she felt a sense of balance—not perfect, but enough to believe she could navigate both worlds.
Rachel's words had been a wake-up call, but Jericho's had been an anchor. Lorraine wasn't just chasing success—she was defining it for herself.
And as she picked up her pen and returned to her work, she knew one thing for certain: she would find her own way, no matter what it took.
Chapter 19: Headlines and Hair
The scent of hair products and the sound of blow dryers filled Rochelle's salon as Lorraine walked in for her appointment. It was mid-afternoon, and the shop was bustling with activity—stylists chatting with clients, the faint hum of gospel music in the background, and the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the room.
"Hey, sis!" Rochelle called out, spotting Lorraine near the door. Her younger sister was effortlessly stylish in ripped jeans and a cropped jacket, her natural curls pulled into a high bun. "You're early for once."
"Figured I'd squeeze in some self-care before heading back to the grind," Lorraine said, smiling as she hugged Rochelle.
"About time," Rochelle teased, leading Lorraine to her station. "You've been running yourself ragged at that firm."
"I know, I know," Lorraine said, settling into the chair. "But this case is... big. Like, legacy-defining big."
Rochelle nodded knowingly, wrapping a cape around Lorraine's shoulders. "Well, let me work my magic while you take a break. You need it."
As Rochelle started sectioning Lorraine's hair, the TV mounted in the corner of the salon caught everyone's attention. A local news channel was covering the Bailey v. Metropolitan Police Department case, and Lorraine's heart sank a little. She'd come here to escape the case for a moment, but it seemed like it was following her everywhere.
The screen cut to a clip of Aaron Pierre standing outside the courthouse, looking every bit the confident, commanding attorney he was known to be. His sharp suit was tailored to perfection, and his blue-green eyes stood out against his dark skin, catching the camera's light as he answered the reporter's questions with ease.
"This case isn't just about Marcus Bailey," Aaron said, his deep voice resonating even through the TV speakers. "It's about addressing systemic issues and ensuring accountability within institutions that have gone unchecked for far too long."
The ladies in the salon immediately erupted in a chorus of "Ooh!" and "Lawd, have mercy!"
"Who is that?" one woman asked, her eyes wide as she leaned closer to the screen.
"He's fine as wine," another chimed in, fanning herself dramatically.
Rochelle glanced at Lorraine through the mirror, smirking. "Isn't that your boss?"
"Yes, that's Aaron," Lorraine said, trying to sound nonchalant as she tugged at the cape around her neck.
One of the stylists, a younger woman with bold red lipstick, turned to Lorraine. "Wait, you work with him? What's he like in person?"
Lorraine hesitated, unsure how to summarize someone as complicated as Aaron Pierre. "He's... intense. Very focused. He takes his work seriously."
"I bet he does," another woman said, laughing. "With a face like that, he can get away with being serious all the time."
Rochelle laughed as she worked through Lorraine's curls. "Oh, don't let Lorraine fool you. She probably sees him every day and doesn't even blink at all that fine."
Lorraine rolled her eyes but couldn't help but smile. "Trust me, Rochelle, when you're working twelve-hour days, you stop noticing how good someone looks."
The room filled with laughter, though Lorraine wasn't entirely sure her words were true.
As Rochelle continued her work, the interview on TV shifted to footage of Aaron speaking to reporters outside the firm. The screen displayed his name and title—"Aaron Pierre, Senior Partner, Pierre & Associates"—and the women in the salon continued their commentary.
"He looks like he could be in a movie or something," one client said, shaking her head.
"Or a Calvin Klein ad," another added, earning a round of agreement.
Rochelle grinned at Lorraine. "So, sis, when are you bringing him by for us to meet?"
"Never," Lorraine said quickly, laughing. "And he's not my type anyway."
"Not your type?" Rochelle said, raising an eyebrow. "Girl, you'd better let me talk to him then. I don't need him to be my type—he can just be fine."
Lorraine laughed, shaking her head. "Trust me, he's all business. There's no time for anything else."
"Business or not, he can still be admired," one of the older clients said, nodding sagely.
When Rochelle finished, Lorraine's hair was sleek and flawless, the perfect pick-me-up she hadn't realized she needed.
"Thanks, Rochelle," Lorraine said, admiring the results in the mirror.
"You're welcome, sis," Rochelle said, removing the cape. "Now, go back to that fancy law firm of yours and let Aaron Pierre know we all said hello."
Lorraine laughed, grabbing her bag. "I'll be sure to pass that along."
As she left the salon, the memory of Aaron's commanding presence on TV lingered in her mind. She told herself it was just the pressure of the case—his focus, his determination—but deep down, she couldn't deny the pull of curiosity.
What drove someone like Aaron Pierre? And why did he seem to loom so large, even when she tried not to notice?
Shaking her head, Lorraine pushed the thoughts aside. There was no room for distractions—not when the case demanded her full attention.
But as she headed back to the firm, she couldn't help but wonder if Aaron Pierre was a distraction she could completely ignore.