Free Duplicity by Charles Anikpe

Chapter 1
     
    The shrill shriek of the alarm awoke me with a startle. I squinted, trying to readjust my eyes to the morning glow that was streaming through the gap in my curtains as I frantically reached for the off button. Morning and I had never gotten along too well, but of late this had become increasingly apparent.
     
    In the past few months, mornings had become a caffeine fuelled affair. My career as one of New York’s top lawyer’s demands that I am in top form at all times. Something I pride myself in adhering to, but I fear without the caffeine I would lose my fierce streak at the moment, as lately I just never feel like I am getting a restful night’s sleep.
     
    My law career had taken me far and wide and I was highly regarded in all of the right circles. I sometimes wondered if my charm had something to do with it, but in my fifteen years in the industry I had never lost a case. I was the only black lawyer in my firm, and thus attracted a lot of black clientele. I never understood why this was the case, but my other main clientele was my favourite kind… women.
     
    I make no secret of the fact that I love women, all women, in all shapes and sizes. Some of my peers would think my behaviour to be inappropriate, but I don’t know a man who would not play the cards the good Lord had dealt him. These women crave attention, and I am happy to oblige. Regularly. I guess I was considered a bit of a player.
     
    I lay for a moment in the bed, running over my schedule for the day in my head. Interviews, hearings, prep. I never really switched off from work. After a few minutes I finally mustered enough energy to get up. I sat up, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. As I did I noticed a sharp pain in my lower calf, like a burning sensation. I glanced down to see a deep cut, around 3 inches in length, covered in crusty brown blood. 
     
    My confusion began to worry me; I could not understand how this cut had got there. I began frantically searching the rest of my body, I was unscathed otherwise. I began to try and rationalize my wound, examining my toenails and fingernails. I knew deep down that that cut was way too deep to have been created by myself in my sleep, but I had to be in court in 45 minutes, so I disregarded the incident for the time being.
     
    I quickly cleaned the cut and put on my black Armani suit and matching black silk tie. I never drove to court. Quite often a drink would be in the cards to celebrate a success afterwards, so I would always order a cab in preparation for this. Today was no different; I was fully expecting a string of successes from today’s work load. Client’s paid me hundreds of thousands to represent them, and if I do say so myself, I was worth every penny.
     
    Within a few moments, my cab was ready and waiting for me outside. I slid my coat over my arms as I headed for the door. I hadn’t even had time for a coffee this morning. I would have to call for one on the way in or else I would be grumpy the rest of the day.
     
    “Morning Mr Donovan,” said the cab driver as I threw my briefcase into the backseat of the car.
     
    “Morning Sam, how are you today?” Sam was the cab driver who had pulled up outside my house on my first ever day at court, and I have personally requested him ever since. He knew me inside and out after fifteen years of ferrying me from one appointment to the next.
     
    “Good my Friend.” He answered in his Italian American accent. Sam was quirky and always cheery.
     
    “Got your coffee.” He continued, handing me a paper cup with my morning fix inside.
     
    “Sam you’re a godsend.” I beamed.
     
    “When you called at this time of morning, I knew you must be running late again.” He chuckled. “Same as usual?” he requested looking at me in the mirror. I gave Sam the nod and opened my briefcase and began to sift through some of the case notes for my first hearing of the day.
     
    My first case of the day was an easy win. I was