Eclipse

THE UNDEFEATED

ECLIPSE - CHAPTER 2:

The conference room at Sterling & Cole smelled like fresh paint, cheap balloons, and anxiety.

Someone had spent actual money decorating it. There were pink and gold balloons taped to the glass walls, a banner that said CONGRATS SUPERSTAR in glitter that was already falling off, and a table covered in three different cakes, a tower of donuts, and a bottle of champagne that no one had permission to open until 5 PM.

Elena Blake stood outside the glass door and stared at it.

She was twenty-five years old. She was the only female litigation attorney at Sterling & Cole. She had been there for two years. She had taken twenty-seven cases. She had won twenty-seven cases. She had never lost. Not once. Not in law school moot court, not as a junior associate, not as lead counsel. The partners called her The Anomaly. The interns called her The Machine.

She had just won her twenty-eighth case an hour ago. A corporate fraud case that three senior partners had said was unwinnable. She had won it in forty-seven minutes.

And now her colleagues were hiding behind a couch waiting to shout surprise.

She pushed the door open.

"SURPRISE!"

Eight lawyers, two paralegals, and her boss, Mr. Cole himself, jumped out from behind the furniture. One of the interns blew a party horn too hard and started coughing.

Elena did not jump. She did not smile. She just stood there holding her briefcase and her blazer.

"We did it!" Mr. Cole shouted. He was fifty-four, wore suspenders as a joke, and thought he was much funnier than he was. He was the only person in the firm who dared to hug Elena. He tried now. She stepped back half a step. "Our undefeated queen! Twenty-eight and zero! The Supreme Court is going to have to build a statue of you!"

"Twenty-eight and zero," one of the junior associates repeated, as if saying it would make it more real.

"Thank you," Elena said. Her voice was quiet. "It looks nice."

Mr. Cole clapped his hands. "Speech! Speech!"

Everyone looked at her.

"I have a brief to file," she said.

The room deflated a little. It always did with her.

Mr. Cole, trying to save the moment, did his impression of the opposing counsel from this morning. He puffed out his chest and waddled. "Objection, Your Honor! My client is innocent because his dog told him to do it!"

Everyone laughed. Loud, forced laughter. The kind of laughter people do when the boss makes a joke.

Elena did not laugh. She did not even change her expression.

"I am going to go," she said. "You guys eat the cakes. I have to get home."

"Elena, come on, one slice?" said Sarah, the only other woman on her floor, a paralegal who genuinely liked her. "We got your favorite, red velvet."

"I am fine," Elena said. She was already turning. "Enjoy."

She left the balloons and the cakes and the champagne and walked back to her office, picked up her bag, and left the building before anyone could stop her again. On the elevator ride down, she could see her reflection in the steel doors. Black blazer, white shirt, hair pulled back so tight it gave her a headache. No makeup. She looked like she was going to court, even when she wasn't.

Outside, the air was cold. It was late October in New York. She pulled her coat tighter and started walking toward the subway. She never took a car. She liked the noise of the train. It helped her think.

Above a bodega, a TV was playing loud. A crowd had gathered.

"BREAKING NEWS: ECLIPSE SINGER ARRESTED FOR MURDER OF BANDMATE..."

Elena stopped walking.

On the screen was Marcus Hale. Twenty-eight years old. Lead singer of Eclipse. The biggest band in the world. His face was everywhere. Now it was on every news channel, but not for a new album. He was in handcuffs, being led into a police car. His white polo was covered in blood. His eyes were empty.

The reporter was shouting: "Police confirm that Kayden Ross, twenty-six, guitarist and vocalist of Eclipse, was found dead this morning in Marcus Hale's home. Early reports say he was stabbed..."

Elena watched the whole segment. She watched them replay the footage of Marcus crouching on his porch, his black hoodie wrapped around his hands, cameras flashing. She watched the ticker at the bottom: #EclipseIsOver.

Her face did not change. No one around her would have known that her heart was beating faster. Not like when she was in court. Different. She had trained herself to have no reaction.

She started walking again, faster now.

Her apartment was on the fifth floor of a brownstone in Brooklyn. It was small, one bedroom, but it was clean and quiet and it was hers. She unlocked three locks and stepped inside and locked them again immediately. No one came here except one person.

She turned on the light.

If anyone from Sterling & Cole had seen the inside of Elena Blake's apartment, they would have thought they walked into the wrong place.

The walls were not white. They were covered. Floor to ceiling. Posters, magazine cutouts, Polaroids, newspaper clippings. All of one person.

Marcus Hale.

Not Eclipse. Marcus.

Marcus on stage, microphone in hand, sweat on his forehead. Marcus in a white t-shirt at an airport, waving. Marcus laughing with Kayden. Marcus at nineteen, before Eclipse, playing in a small club with a broken guitar.

On her fridge, held up by magnets, were more pictures. Her kitchen counter was full of groceries, all with his face on them. The Eclipse energy drink, Eclipse Rush, with Marcus on the can. The milk carton from their collaboration with a dairy brand. Even a cereal box.

She had every album on vinyl. She had a ticket stub framed from their first tour, which she had flown to London to see when she was twenty-one.

No one at the firm knew. Not Sarah. Not Mr. Cole. Not the partners. At work, Elena Blake was cold, serious, undefeated. She never talked about music. She never went to concerts with colleagues. She kept this part of her life completely sealed off.

Only one person in the world knew.

The front door unlocked. She knew the sound of his key.

A guy, twenty-four years old, tall, with messy hair and a soft hoodie, walked in carrying two paper bags of food. Ethan. Her best friend since freshman year of college. The only person who had ever been allowed to see the walls. He lived two blocks away but had a key because he was the only one she trusted.

"You left the office early," he said, kicking the door shut. "Sarah texted me. Said you pulled your usual ice queen exit."

Elena rushed to him and took the bags from his hands. "You got the chicken?"

"Of course I got the chicken. And extra fries, because I know you." He put the bags on the counter and then looked at her laptop screen, which she had left open. Marcus's mugshot. He looked at the walls, which he had seen a thousand times, and back at her.

He raised an eyebrow. "Your crush is in trouble."

"I know," Elena said. She was already opening the food container. She took a piece of fried chicken and took a bite. Then she sighed.

Ethan leaned against the counter. "He is all over the news. They are saying he killed Kayden. Stabbed him in his own house. The housekeeper found them. Blood everywhere."

"I know," she said again.

"They are saying he was jealous. That Kayden was going solo. You know how these blogs are."

"I know how blogs work, Ethan."

Ethan watched his best friend. At college, he was the only one who knew that the girl who studied eighteen hours a day and never went to parties had every Eclipse song on her phone and cried when they won their first Grammy.

"You have liked him since sophomore year," he said, softer now. "Only I know that."

Elena did not answer. She took another bite of chicken and stared at the article. A photo of Kayden, smiling, with his guitar.

"He did not do it," she said quietly.

Ethan frowned. "Elena... you do not know that."

"I know his eyes," she said. "Look at his eyes in the video. He is not angry. He is shocked. That is not a killer's face. That is a man who woke up and found his best friend dead."

Ethan was about to say something else when her phone rang.

It was not her cell. It was the office line. That only rang for emergencies. No one at work knew about her apartment walls.

She wiped her hands and answered. "Elena Blake."

It was Mr. Cole. His funny voice was gone.

"Elena, where are you?"

"Home."

"Turn on the news."

"I am watching it."

A pause. "Black Box Records just called. They are our biggest client. You know that. They handle Eclipse. All of Eclipse's legal work goes through us."

"I know."

"They want us to take the case. Marcus Hale. Murder defense. They specifically asked for you."

Elena's grip tightened on the phone.

"They asked for me?"

"They asked for the undefeated one. They said they need someone who has never lost, because the whole world already thinks he is guilty. The press conference is tomorrow morning. The arraignment is tomorrow afternoon. If we do not take it, they will go to another firm."

Elena looked at the wall. At Marcus's face, hundreds of times over.

Ethan was looking at her. He mouthed, "Are you going to take it?"

Mr. Cole continued, "Elena, I have to ask. This is not a corporate fraud case. This is murder. If you lose, he goes to prison for life. It will be the most public trial in the country. Can you be objective? Are you okay to take a case this heavy?"

Elena was silent for a long time. Her secret was safe. Mr. Cole had no idea she had loved Eclipse since she was nineteen. He just thought she was a brilliant lawyer.

Then she said, "I have never lost a case because of pressure. I win because I know the law."

"So you will take it?"

She took another bite of chicken, chewed, swallowed.

"Yes," she said. "I will take it."

Ethan's eyes widened. "Elena..."

Mr. Cole exhaled. "Okay. Okay, good. Be at the office at six AM. Black Box is sending all the files tonight. And Elena?"

"Yes?"

"Do not wear all black to the prison. You look scary enough."

She almost smiled. Almost.

"Understood," she said.

She hung up.

Ethan stared at her. He was the only one who understood what this meant. "You are going to defend your crush in a murder trial. The guy on your wall. The guy on your milk carton."

"I am going to defend a man who is presumed innocent," she corrected. Her voice was steady, lawyer voice again. "And I am going to win."

"But what if he did it?" Ethan asked. He sat down next to her, his voice low, like a best friend who is actually worried and the only one allowed to ask this. "What if your hero did kill his best friend? You have had a picture of this guy above your bed for five years. Only I know that. Can you handle it if he is guilty? Will you be able to look at him and still defend him?"

Elena walked to her bedroom wall and touched a photo of Marcus on stage, his arm around Kayden, both laughing.

"Then I will find out why," she said. "And I will still be the best lawyer he has ever had."

That night, she did not sleep. She read every article, every police leak, every blog post. She made notes. Door locked from outside. Housekeeper has key. Blood on white polo. Black hoodie used to hold hands. No memory of night. Song lyric stuck in head. She wrote it all down in her legal pad, the same way she wrote her winning arguments. Ethan stayed for two hours, reading over her shoulder, the only person who knew why her hands were shaking.

At 5:30 AM, her alarm rang.

She got up, showered, and opened her closet.

She did not wear her usual blazer and skirt. She wore a black tuxedo. Black shirt, black tie, black trousers, black blazer. Her hair down for once, but still severe. She looked like a woman going to war.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Twenty-five years old. Twenty-eight wins. Zero losses. One secret only her best friend knew.

Outside her building, a car from Sterling & Cole was waiting. Mr. Cole was in it.

"You look like a movie star," he said when she got in.

"I look like a lawyer," she said.

The car drove through the cold morning streets of New York, past newsstands where Marcus's bloody polo was on every front page, past a billboard where Eclipse's faces had already been taken down, past fans holding candles outside Black Box Records.

They stopped in front of a tall, grey building with barbed wire on top. The county prison.

A crowd of reporters was already there. They had been there all night.

As soon as Elena stepped out of the car in her black tux, the cameras turned. Flashes.

"Who is that?"

"Is that his lawyer?"

Mr. Cole whispered, "Ready?"

Elena adjusted her tie. She thought about the chicken last night and how she would reward herself with a bucket of it when she wins. She thought about the fact that only Ethan knew that she had once waited eight hours in the rain to see this man sing.

"Yes," she said.

And she walked through the prison gates, toward the man on all her walls.

---