There is no good cure for insomnia. None. Not a one.

I say this with a fair amount of confidence as I'm currently counting the spots on the ceiling tiles in my bedroom of which there are 14, 756. Another fact I can state with a fair degree of certainty.

Whatever sure-fire cure your cousin's friend's neighbor swears by, its hogwash. I apologize for dropping the "H-word" but that's how peeved-off I am right now. Sleepy-time tea – tried it. Watching TV – tried it. Counting sheep – has that ever really worked for anyone? Because it didn't work for me.

And before you suggest sex stuff, you should know off the top that is a subject I am not comfortable discussing. I mean, I'm as sexual as the next girl, just not in practice. But I notice men. And yes, the occasional impure thought crosses my mind whenever I see Derrick Simon at the office. Of course, after the embarrassing speech incident I caused, I won't have to stress out over that happening in my lifetime.

But I've never found it easy dealing with men, especially when it comes to the romantic arena. A point made all too clearly by my use of the phrase "romantic arena."

So, as always, I turn to my one true love – books. Books have never let me down. Books have always been there when I need them. Books will not judge me for my love of books. Mostly because they are incapable of sentient thought but also because if they did, it would be more than a little hypocritical.

Right now, I'm ensconced in Dickens' A Tale of Two Cities. I've read it dozens of times, but I always seem to come back to it. There is just something about his prose that sings to me. When I need the literary equivalent of comfort food, nothing does it for me like that sweet D.

Yes, I heard it, but I don't care.

A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city by night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!

And as beautiful as that text is, it's not helping...me...get...to...

The next thing I know I'm bolting upright in bed at the sound of my buzzing alarm clock. Maybe there is a cure for insomnia after all.

It's no secret what's keeping me up at night. I need to find a way to win a seemingly unwinnable case. A lawyer once told me that the key to winning any case can be found in precedents. However bizarre the circumstances of your particular case may be, at least 20 other people have gone through the exact same thing before. Although something tells me he never had to find a precedent for an energy drink that caused a clown to throw haymakers with a bunch of nine-year-olds.

My first stop when I arrive at work is the resource library. I can't stop thinking about it and I know the key lies somewhere in these stacks of case law. The great thing about arriving at 7:45 on a Saturday is that I will be the only one he-.

"Oh my God, stop it!"

Why am I hearing voices? And no, I'm not hearing imaginary voices, I'm hearing the sound of actual voices coming from somewhere in the library. Well, one voice to be exact. It's a female voice I've heard several times before, but I can't quite place it. Maybe if I maneuver around...

"You're so bad!"

It's her! Francine "The Queen" Rodgers. Francine The Queen is a nickname she gave herself which, next to genocide, is the worst thing a human being can do. 

She's one of the longest-serving paralegals and believes she sits atop the pecking order. Her biggest concern isn't career advancement or recognition for excellent job performance. No, Francine's only real preoccupation is in landing one of the lawyers as a husband. So, who does she have on the line today?

Oh, dear God, no! Derrick Simon?!? I already explained how I don't have a chance with him but that doesn't mean I want Francine to get him. She should not be the one who gets lost in those eyes. Those deep blue pools of absolute perfection. I'm just going to sit down and do my work and not eavesdrop on their conversation.

"So, what are you reading these days, Francine?"

He wants to know what she's reading? Damn you perfect Derrick!

"I'm about halfway through Wuthering Heights."

Yeah right, and I'm Lady Bracknell!

"Wow, that's a classic. Are you enjoying it?"

"It's a beautiful love triangle between Heathcliff and Catherine and...the third guy. The one Catherine marries."

The third guy??? Try Edgar Linton.

"Oh, it's right on the tip of my tongue."

Edgar Linton!

"I want to say Edward Norton."

"Of course you do, you Grade A moron!"

Crap! Did I just say that out loud? I slowly turn my head in their direction and Francine's death stare tells me all I need to know.

"Sorry, I'm rehearsing lines for a play. Didn't mean to disturb you."

"Damnit, why can't I think of it?"

How much time do we have? Ugh, I can't help myself. "Edgar Linton was Catherine's husband."

"Very impressive," Derrick says with a smile that can melt glaciers.

"Shit, I gotta get to a meeting. We'll have to...hook up later," Francine says in a tone that couldn't be a more overt invitation for sex if it were written in lipstick on edible underwear.

As Francine scampers off, I put my head down in my book. Just focus on your work. As long as you don't say anything, you can't say anything stupid.

"Edgar Linton, nice pull there," Derrick says as he sits down across from me. I honestly don't think I've ever been more excited and terrified at the same time.

"Thanks, I'm a bit of a book nerd," I say, trying not to choke on the words.

"Book enthusiast and there's nothing wrong with that."

Can he really be that handsome and really get me? This can't be real. Do I dare introduce myself? Don't think about it, just do it. "Hi, I'm.."

"Callie. I know who are."

"You do?"

"It's my job to know who everyone is. You worked on the speech I gave to the Chamber of Commerce."

I want to die! "I'm really sorry. I can't believe that happened. If I would have known..."

"Stop. It's fine. It wasn't even a legal screw up, it barely counts. You should have seen the doozies I made when I first started."

"You screwed up?"

"So, get this. I was assigned to amend the Wendell Briggs will and run it by him to make sure the changes were as he requested. I poured over every last comma in that document to make sure it was perfect."

"And you messed it up?"

"No, it was perfect. But when I sent it out, I sent it to Wendell Briggs Jr. His son...whom he was cutting out of the will. Let's just say neither Wendell Briggs was very happy with me that day."

"Wow."

"We live and learn. Fortunately, it's not brain surgery so when we do screw up, nobody dies."

                                                                                      ***

By late afternoon I had explored some interesting avenues but hadn't found any rock-solid precedent that would support our case. But that wasn't my biggest concern right now. I just realized that I need Katherine's signature for a filing first thing Monday morning. I could try to catch her as soon as she gets in but that's cutting it too close for my liking.

Of course, the only alternative is to drop by her house over the weekend. That thought doesn't exactly thrill me either, but it strikes me as the least of the bad options.

Katherine lives in the suburban community of Elmsdale, a town where if you're upper-middle class, you're part of the have-nots. The town mascot is a guy walking around in a foam 1% costume. Ok, it's not but it really should be.

The streets are lined with identical brick exterior multi-level homes. I understand this is a place that appreciates conformity, but even this is a little on the nose. As I knock on Katherine's door, I am hoping she won't be home and I can just leave a note saying I'll catch her at the office Monday. Wait, why don't I just do that anyway? I'll just grab my pen and...

"New girl?" Before I can execute my escape plan, Katherine is standing in the open doorway with a puzzled look on her face.

"Hi, Katherine. I just need your signature of these documents for Monday morning's court filings. I hope you don't mind, I thought I'd catch you at home.

"No, it's fine. Come in."

I follow her into a stunningly gorgeous house and immediately I see I've made a huge mistake. There are about 10-12 guests in the backyard for some kind of afternoon garden party. From their clothes and jewelry, it's clear they are all accomplished, just like Katherine.

A tall, fit & handsome man comes into the kitchen and sidles up behind Katherine. He puts his arms around her waist and kisses her on the neck. "Sweetie, can you come say hi to the Baxters?" After finally noticing me he holds out his hand. "Hi, I'm Stephen."

"This is my husband. Callie is my new paralegal." We shake hands and its one of those vice-grip handshakes that tell me he's one of these Type A overachievers.

He pulls her out to the backyard and Katherine signals for me to follow behind. As Katherine greets and entertains the Baxters, I do what I do best in awkward social situations. I slink into the background and hope nobody sees me. Full disclosure, while I'm in full slink mode, I also have a habit of eavesdropping, as Francine would probably tell you.

To my left is an adorable young couple talking about how he proposed atop the Eifel Tower. Right behind me is another Stepford couple talking about puppy training challenges. Everywhere the eye falls is a couple straight out of central casting for the Lifetime movie This Should Be Your Life.

"You have the papers, I'll sign them now?"

Katherine startled me out of my people-watching so I quickly fumble through my bag for the documents and my pen. As Katherine is reviewing and signing, a redhead in her mid-30's stops by us.

"Hey Kath, so sorry but we have to head out."

"Awww, really Becky? You can't stick around for a little bit longer."

"I wish I could but we have to go check in on Jonathan's mother. She hasn't been doing great lately. But I'll see you Thursday night at Book Club."

There it is. The two words that excite more than any others. "Book Club?" I ask trying to hide the desperation in my voice.

Katherine signs the last document and hands the bunch to me. "Trust me, this book club isn't for you." She says matter-of-factly. And quite honestly, I'm more than a little offended. I once ran a Russian literature book club, so I feel like I can handle whatever they're reading.

"I don't know. I thi-"

"See you Monday."

I sigh in defeat. "See you Monday."

***

I keep looking at the clock but it's not moving any faster. I feel like it's been 6:48 p.m. for the last two hours. I'm still here at the office but I'm finding it impossible to concentrate. You see, it's Thursday night and I know that Katherine's book club is meeting tonight. I would so rather be there than here pouring through stupid affidavits. Normally this is the kind of stuff I love but normally, there's not a book club happening at the same time. I don't think I can look at the documents one minute longer.

Look at these. complainant #6 Bought Playa at Stop N' Go 53rd Street. Complainant #11 bought Playa at Max Gas 51st Street. Complinant8 bought Playa at another Stop N' Go on 49th Street.

Wait... I quickly start rifling through the other affidavits and...yes! A pattern. All the complainants bought Playa either at a Stop N' Go or a Max Gas station within a six-block radius. That can't be a coincidence. It has to mean something.

I have to tell Katherine! I feel like she needs to know this information sooner than later. Could it wait until tomorrow? Possibly. But then we're that much further behind. I think she'll thank me for telling her about this tonight.

Finding her may be a bit tricky though. I do have access to her calendar so I wonder what I will find if I click...there it is. 7:00 pm BC The Red Room. The Red Room – how elegant!

When I arrive at the Red Room, I immediately reconsider the "elegant" description. To put it bluntly, The Red Room is a loud bar filled with drunken yahoos. I've barely scanned the room and already I've noticed a table of middle-aged businessmen with escorts on their arms right next to a group of college kids playing quarters. What's even more staggering is that neither group seems out of place or is drawing any special attention from the other patrons. This seems like an odd place to hold a book club but whatever works for them I guess.

I see them over on the other side of the room. As I fight my way across the bar, something odd appears to be happening at their book club. Katherine is doing a body shot of tequila off the rock-hard abs of a shirtless waiter. I've never done a body shot myself but I've been in the campus bar enough times to recognize one when I see it.

She straightens up to cheers and applause from Holly, Patrick, and Becky from the garden party. As the waiter leaves, I see Holly stick a bill in his shorts. All I can do is look on in stunned silence.

"New girl! What are you doing here?!?" Katherine slurs when she finally notices me.

Instead of answering I just pull up an empty chair at the table. I still can't quite figure out what's going on. "What are you guys doing here? Did you cancel Book Club?"

This causes everyone around the table to break out in hysterical laughter. Patrick is the first to gain enough composure to speak. "Silly girl, this is Book Club."

"This is our one night of the week when we can get drunk, get loud and blow off some steam," Holly adds.

"Far away from the watchful eye of the senior partners," Patrick says.

"And overbearing husbands," Becky says and then catches herself as if she's said too much.

"It's fine, he's an asshole," Holly says in an oddly reassuring manner.

"So, you don't talk about books at all?"

Katherine cackles again at the notion. "You really thought we'd hold a book club here? I couldn't imagine anything more ridiculous."

Just then, Playa the Mascot walks by with a drink in his hand. We all turn to see Tommy approaching them with a very attractive woman on his arm.

"He really does bring him everywhere," I blurt out.

"Hello, Katherine. So, this is Book Club?"

I know it's important for Katherine to keep her professional and private lives separate so I'm going to jump on this grenade for her. "Oh yes. We're discussing Jekyll and Hyde. It tells the story of a good man's transformation into the darker side of human nature.

"Fascinating," he says in a tone that would denote otherwise. He turns towards Lana. "I'll get us some drinks. Be right back." Tommy goes off to the bar and Lana steps away and starts playing on her iPhone.

Suddenly, I'm wracked with self-doubt. I grab Holly by the hand. "Do you think I made a bad first impression?"

"Relax, you didn't make any impression at all."

"Why did you come down here?" Patrick asks.

"I noticed an interesting pattern with the complainants in the Playa case. You see.."

Before I can explain, I see a light bulb go on for Katherine.

"You wanted to be part of Book Club!"

"No, I thought you should know..."

Again, she cuts me off. "You wanted to crash book club so you could show off your book nerdiness."

She's right but I can't let her know that. "I shouldn't have come. I'll just see you at the office tomorrow."

I quickly stand up and start to leave but, in my haste, I slam directly into Lana which, in turn, puts her directly into the path of a waiter carrying a tray of Flaming Sambucus. The drinks spill all over Lana, igniting her top. She runs off in a panic. I turn back to the table in time to see that Tommy saw the whole thing.

Holly pats me on the shoulder. "Okay, now you've made a bad impression."