After Ten

Chapter 1

GRANDE VALLEY, TEXAS

Present Day

Beth Brewster parked her car in front of Joey’s Mexican Food and Pizzeria and glanced in the rear view mirror. She tucked a stray red curl back behind her ear, then chastised herself for fussing over her appearance, as if it were her most important concern.

She glanced at her watch. She was early. Not surprising, considering she’d left the house in a hurry, the argument still weighing on her mind. I sure hope someone else is coming, she said to herself. I could really use a friend right now. She tried to ignore the other voice inside telling her that they weren’t actually her friends anymore. If just for tonight, she wanted to believe that they were. The friendships represented her past, and by facing that past, maybe she could start to figure out the future.

Once inside, it took a few seconds for Beth’s eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and she looked around. It didn’t appear that Joey’s had changed much in the years since she’d last dined there. The booths were the same red leather, though they looked a little more worn, some sporting tears, and the familiar high tables and stools were still present. An old analog television in the far corner was tuned to a baseball game, but no one seemed to be paying it much attention.

The place was quiet, after all, it was a Thursday night and not quite seven o’clock. Joey’s main patrons were university students who frequented the place on weekends or for late night study breaks. It was always easy to pick out the students, their youthful faces and backpacks giving them away. Those were simpler times, for sure.

Beth didn’t recognize any of the faces and they didn’t appear to know hers, although it now adorned campaign posters all across the county, including the university campus. The television ads would start running soon enough. She knew her days of relative anonymity would soon be over, but that part she didn’t mind. This was her dream, after all. At the same time, she was aware that Joey’s, a charming little restaurant in its own right, might not be the type of place that her campaign manager would want her to be seen in.

She chuckled to herself as she imagined how the local news media might try to spin this. Republican District Attorney candidate Elizabeth Brewster seen in college bar, the headline might proclaim. Was she there for a clandestine meeting? Or merely trying to recapture her youth? I guess you could say it’s a little of both, Beth thought, as she seated herself at one of the high tables, making sure there were four stools, just in case the others were all coming.

A kid who barely looked old enough to be working in a restaurant that served alcohol sauntered over to the table. His name tag said ‘Rich.’ Without a word, he handed her a plastic-coated menu and walked away again. Joey’s had never been known for its great service and there was no reason to expect things to be different now. Change was over-rated anyway. A little consistency was what Beth wanted at the moment.

She took another look around the restaurant, to make sure she hadn’t missed anyone that she was expecting to meet, but there was no sign of her former classmates. Beth sighed and looked at her watch. It was still a few minutes before seven. They weren’t even technically late. They could still show. But would they? For a moment, Beth considered whether this whole meeting was a lost cause. Sure, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but that was more than ten years ago. Twelve, to be exact.

Oh well, their loss, she muttered, opening the menu. She was pleased to see that it was another thing that hadn’t changed. The usual brick oven pizzas were still on the menu, with the large variety of toppings. The largest plate of nachos in Southwest Texas, complete with chipotle smoked chicken, black olives, guacamole, sour cream, and three kinds of shredded cheese, as they proudly boasted, was still available, too. With a smile, Beth observed that the prices had not increased by much over the years. Joey’s was still a cheap meal. She scanned the menu for a minute or two before setting it to the side, her decision made.

Whacha want? Rich asked, reappearing by the table, notepad in hand.

Beth debated whether she should order anything now or wait for the others. She was hungry, though, and she didn’t even know who else would be joining her. Besides, food would be a distraction. I’ll have a glass of white wine. She knew it was pointless to specify a varietal. The best she could hope for was that it was poured from a fresh box. And a small pizza with mushrooms and black olives. And extra cheese.

Anything else? Rich mumbled.

Not now, Beth answered, But I may have some other people joining me soon. Hope springs eternal, she thought, as she watched the waiter saunter over to the next table. With ordering out of the way, Beth no longer had the excuse of studying the menu to keep her occupied, so she reverted to an old habit of folding an accordion out of the little strip of paper that bound the silverware and napkin together. She folded the accordion one way, then straightened the paper back out and folded it another way. Oh yeah, this is going to be some fun evening.

A glass of wine appeared in front of her, with no word from Rich. Thanks, Beth said. She took a sip of the wine, which barely resembled anything she had ever known as wine, and set the glass back down.

Well, judging from the look on your face, the wine’s just as bad as it was ten years ago. Still from a box. And probably not a fresh one either.

At the sound of a familiar voice, Beth looked up. The woman had blond hair worn in a pixie cut and designer glasses framed her blue eyes. She wore jeans and a tailored red shirt. The years, at least on first impression, looked as if they had been kind to her former classmate. I think it might be the same box they had open the last time we were here. Beth stood up to greet her and they exchanged a slightly awkward hug. Hi, Sarah.

It’s nice to see you again, Beth. Sarah pulled out one of the stools, joining her at the table.

I’m so glad you came. I wasn’t sure if you would.

Of course I came. A promise is a promise, isn’t it? Sarah reached for the menu. Besides, I miss the nachos. You just can’t get anything like them in New Hampshire.

No. I’m sure you can’t.

We have some great restaurants, but there’s nothing quite like Joey’s.

Their waiter returned and set Beth’s pizza in front of her. She waited while Sarah ordered the deluxe nachos and a glass of the same barely palatable wine before speaking again. Did you just get into town?

Sarah nodded. Yeah. My flight was a little delayed out of Dallas, and I came straight here instead of going by the hotel first. I didn’t want to be late for the big reunion. I guess we’re the only ones here? 

So far. Who knows who else is even coming? It’s been a long time. Everyone lives in different places. And some of us don’t even like each other.

Well, we know Tracey will be here. It was her idea, after all. I assume she emailed you, too, to make sure you were coming? The waiter returned and set Sarah’s wine in front of her.

Yes. I was a little surprised to hear from her, to be perfectly honest. It’s a long way to travel, and she doesn’t even practice law anymore. Beth took a bite of her pizza, nearly burning her mouth but savoring the different spices in the sauce and the thick layer of mozzarella. Joey’s pizza was still fabulous.

Sarah took a drink from the glass and grimaced as she set it down. Yep. Still piss water, she assessed, making Beth laugh. You didn’t really think Tracey would pass up a chance to see you-know-who again, did you?

You-know-who? Beth rolled her eyes. I think you’ve been reading too many Harry Potter books. I never thought you for the type, Sarah.

Hey, we all have our deep dark secrets, right?

Don’t you think she’s gotten over him by now? After all these years? As she said it, Beth realized she wasn’t in any position to judge someone’s ability to get over someone or something else. She hadn’t exactly succeeded at that herself.

Sarah shrugged. I don’t know. She was pretty hung up. And even if she’s not still hung up on the guy, I’d think she’d still welcome a chance to see him again.

Beth couldn’t help but notice a slight hint of annoyance in Sarah’s tone when she talked about Tracey. Probably. She thought about the class banquet scheduled for the following night. It would be nice to see some of the old faces again. Some, but not all. 

How about Jordan? Sarah asked. Is she going to make it tonight? 

Beth winced as the name of her one-time best friend was brought up. Don’t know, don’t care, she said brusquely. But knowing Jordan, she’d be here, fashionably late, ready to make a grand entrance and show everyone else up. It sometimes surprised Beth that they had ever been friends at all. It was a long time ago, and she doubted they ever would be again. Next subject, please.

Sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge that up. Sarah looked relieved when Rich brought her nachos to the table and set the big plate in front of her, and Beth felt a little guilty for snapping at her.

Forget it. I have petty moments sometimes. Beth took another bite of her pizza.

We all do. Sarah took the first big, heaping chip from her plate and sampled, letting out a little sigh. Oh yeah. These are still delicious. It was worth coming back here just for these.

Beth laughed, happy to be off the subject of Jordan for the moment. If nothing else, at least we know the food’s the same here. It’s nice to know that hasn’t changed.

Even if everything else has, Sarah agreed, sounding somewhat wistful. Can you believe it’s been ten years since graduation?

No. In some ways, it seems like just yesterday that we finished first year exams...

And the four of us gathered here to celebrate, Sarah continued, finishing the thought.

We all had a little too much wine that night. I’m a little surprised any of us even remember the promise we made.

It was a great night.

It was, Beth agreed. It’s a shame none of it could last.

Chapter 2

GRANDE VALLEY, TEXAS

Twelve years ago

Tracey Hiatt looked around the table. Ten months, she didn’t know any of these three women, but now she considered them her best friends. They’d been through so much together. Let’s have a toast! Tracey picked up her wine glass. To us. We made it. We actually survived the first year of law school. There were times when she never thought she would.

Sounds good. A toast to us. Sarah raised her glass.

To us, Beth agreed. And surviving the first year.

I can drink to that. Jordan was the last to raise hers, and then they all touched their glasses with a rather loud clink before taking a drink.

Sarah nearly spit hers out. Are they sure this is wine? It tastes like piss water.

Tracey laughed, almost spitting out her own drink in the process. Really. I didn’t know you were such an expert on piss water, Sar. The statement probably shouldn’t have surprised her. Although Sarah had a reputation as the quiet, serious one, Tracey had come to realize that her friend possessed a blunt and sometimes acerbic sense of humor.

That may be just about the only thing we don’t know about each other after this year, Jordan said dryly.

And now you do. That’s me. Sarah Canfield, expert on piss water and civil procedure.

I still can’t believe we did it, Tracey said.

Well, I suppose technically we haven’t done anything until we see our grades. At Beth’s mention of grades, Tracey felt a rock settle in her stomach. She didn’t want to admit it to her friends, but there were a few grades that she was less than sure about.

Way to put a damper on a mood, Beth. Jordan rolled her eyes.  I’m sure we all did well. After all, we made a pretty formidable study group, starting with our own Ms. Civil Procedure 1999, Sarah Canfield.

Sarah laughed as she pretended to adjust an invisible tiara on her head. At least you admit that you would have been lost without me.

Of course I do, Jordan said. I hated every minute of that class. The ones I didn’t sleep through, anyway.

You made up for it with your contracts expertise, Jordan, Beth said. And of course my natural brilliance at criminal law. Tracey wasn’t sure whether Beth was kidding with her last statement.

We all know you aced Torts, Trace. How could you not? Sarah teased her good-naturedly.

You had to, Beth agreed. What with that extra incentive and all.

Oh, stop it you guys. Tracey felt her cheeks grow warm. I just think Professor Ashburn is a great teacher. She realized she didn’t even sound convincing to herself.

Of course he is. Jordan smirked. A great teacher. A brilliant man. And he also has a great ass, the sight of which nearly caused you to drool on your casebook every time he turned around to write something on the board during class. Not that any of us noticed or anything.

For a moment, Tracey thought—hoped—that maybe her friend would help her out. Instead, Jordan joined in and upped the ante. That was Jordan. She was brash and sometimes unrelenting in her teasing. That and her gorgeous, blond, Hollywood-ready looks might have been enough to make Tracey dislike her, if not for the fact that she was such fun to be around.  Okay, I admit it. She sighed. He’s kinda cute.

That’s the spirit. Admitting you have a problem is always the first step to recovery, Sarah teased.

Tracey feigned offense. With friends like you guys, who needs any enemies? She took another drink of her wine. By now the taste was beginning to grow on her. As much as I’d love to ace Torts, for the sake of my GPA and not just to impress Ashburn, I really don’t think I did that well on the final. I messed up the third question. Besides, we all know Nina Morow probably aced the class, she said, referring to a classmate that none of them much liked. She always knew what she was talking about when he called on her in class.

Only because she’s sleeping with him. Jordan pretended to duck as if afraid that Tracey might throw something across the table at her.

Don’t say that. She is not. Tracey felt the rock her stomach again. 

Of course she’s not. Tracey knew Sarah was trying to sound reassuring, but she didn’t exactly sound as if she believed her own words.

Even if she is, it’s just a cheap fling, Beth said.

Cheap is Nina’s middle name. And sleeping with a professor would be the only way she would ever ace any class, Jordan said. Don’t worry about it, Trace. If she’s what he wants, then he’s not the brilliant man we all think he is.

She’s not and he is. Still, Tracey wondered who she was trying to convince, her friends or herself. Either way, she didn’t want to discuss Professor Clinton Ashburn any further. Can we change the subject please.

Fine. Jordan looked at Sarah. Let’s talk about you and Brenden Collier, then.

There is no me and Brenden Collier. Tracey noticed that Sarah seemed uncomfortable as soon his name was brought up, and felt a little sympathy for her after just enduring her own teasing from Jordan.

That’s my point, Jordan said. What are you waiting for?

Another glass of wine. Sarah got up from her chair. Where the hell’s our waiter, anyway?

Something I said? Jordan asked as Sarah went up to the bar to order another drink.

What do you think? Beth asked.

I think I don’t know what just set Sarah off, Jordan said.

Jordan really could be clueless sometimes, Tracey decided. Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about Brenden, just like I don’t want to talk about Ashburn. Did you consider that?

Correct. Sarah returned to the table, setting her drink down. Let’s try again for that change in subject, shall we?

Tracey was more than happy to oblige. Now that this sometimes miserable, always frustrating, but ultimately rewarding first year is finally behind us, where do you think you’ll be ten years after graduation? Or twelve years from now?

I’ll go first, I guess, Sarah volunteered. I’ve known for a while what my long-term goal is. I want to be a juvenile court judge.

That’s wonderful, Sarah. And I’m sure you can do it, Beth encouraged her. Our goals are sort of similar. I see myself with a family law practice. With a successful family of my own. And yes, if I have anything to say about it, Matt Finney will be part of my long-term plan.

Good for you. On both counts. Matt’s got a fine ass, too, Jordan offered with a wink as the others rolled their eyes at her. Me? I’m blowing Texas and heading back to sunny Southern California, ready to make my mark in entertainment law. By the time we come back here for our ten year reunion, I’ll be negotiating multi-million dollar contracts for A-list Hollywood celebrities. That’s my plan.

Listening to her friends talk about their ambitious plans, Tracey felt self-conscious and wished she hadn’t brought up the topic. The other three all had such clear ideas of who they were, or at least what they wanted to be. She, on the other hand, had no clue.

What about you, Tracey? Sarah asked her.

I’m not sure, she admitted after a moment’s hesitation. Trial work, I suppose. Maybe civil litigation, but I’m kind of leaning towards criminal defense.

Beth nodded. I can see you doing both.

Good goals, Jordan agreed. And of course it’s good to have a back-up plan, in case your first dream of marrying Professor Ashburn and bearing his children doesn’t happen. She ducked again.

Give it a rest, Jordan. Sarah tried to keep the peace. The joke is getting old. 

Thank you, Tracey mouthed silently in Sarah’s direction. She felt some solidarity with her tonight, in the wake of Jordan’s teasing. I have an idea. She waited until she had everyone’s attention. I’m going to write down what everyone just stated as their ten year goal. Tracey fished a pen out of her purse and brushed her dark brown hair out of her eyes as she started writing on her napkin.

It’s been a great year, and I’m happy to have met all of you and shared all our first year classes together. Right now it seems like we’ll always be friends. She noticed the others nodding their heads. But truthfully, we don’t know what will happen over the next two years, and especially after graduation. We may promise to keep in touch, but not do it. So here’s what I propose—that the night before our ten year class reunion banquet, the four of us have a mini-reunion of our own. We can meet right here at Joey’s and reminisce over some great wine, she finished with a laugh. And I’ll bring this with me, and we can look back at the goals we made and see where our lives are then. What do you say?

Beth was the first to speak up. I think it’s a great idea.

Sounds good to me, Sarah agreed. It will be interesting to look back and see how our lives have changed and how we’ve done in meeting our goals. Who knows? We may even be doing something else entirely.

Pleased that at least two of them were on board, Tracey looked to the one remaining hold-out. Jordan?

Sure. Why not, Jordan said with a shrug. I can make it back to Texas one more time for the reunion. It’s a plan.

Let’s say maybe seven o’clock? Tracey suggested. Whatever day the class banquet is, we meet here the night before. Just the four of us.

The others nodded, and Tracey raised her glass in another toast. Great. Let’s drink to the future then. And to meeting back here at Joey’s in 2011.

I’ll drink to that, said Beth.

We’ll drink to anything right now, Sarah countered and they touched their glasses again.

Chapter 3

JORDAN

California

Nine years ago

So you’re like lawyer Barbie. Cool.

Lawyer Barbie? Jordan Priestley peered across her desk at Shawn Preston, one-time teen idol ready to make a comeback in Hollywood. It was difficult to reconcile his current appearance with the posters that once adorned her bedroom walls. His eyes were tired and bloodshot, his face bloated. Jordan knew the cause of that. Shawn regularly made the tabloids. Drug arrests, punching photographers, unsuccessful stints in rehab. He had done it all. This time he swore it would be different.

The name is Jordan.

Whatever you want to call yourself. Just don’t screw this up for me. This is the break I’ve been waiting for.

Jordan bristled. The guy was out of rehab for the third time in four years and Hollywood had all but given up on him. He had been given one last chance, with a small role in a low-budget film that would probably go directly to video, and he was warning her not to screw up? The contract will be perfect; but remember the behavior clause, she warned. The one the producers had insisted be included, given her client’s reputation.

Shawn waved his hand dismissively. No worries, doll. I’m totally clean now, and I’m going to stay that way. They won’t have any problems with me. I’m telling you, baby, I’m back.

For his sake, Jordan hoped so. She stood, signaling an end to the meeting, and walked around the desk to her client and offered her hand. Good luck, Shawn.

He shook her hand. Thanks, Barbie. He smiled and for the first time, Jordan saw a glimpse of the handsome man he had once been, before the drugs and the booze took their toll. Hey, maybe you want to go to the premiere party with me?

I don’t think so.

Your loss, then.

Somehow she doubted that. Still, she found herself hoping things would work out for him.

Once he’d left, Jordan pulled off her reading glasses, rubbing her eyes. Her headache was gone. Six Advil and three cups of coffee helped with that. The lack of sleep, though, was beginning to catch up to her.

A knock on the door startled her and Jordan sighed. So much