Chapter Text
“Kalinda.”
“Mr. State’s Attorney.”
Peter Florrick slips onto the bar stool next to her. “Come work for me,” he says without preamble.
Kalinda smiles around the rim of her tequila shot. Men like Peter Florrick don’t have time to beat around the bush, which is just as well since she’s not one for small talk. “No.”
Peter signals the waiter, orders a whisky for himself and another tequila shot for Kalinda, without asking her if she wants it. “Your talents are wasted with Gauthier. He’s a slimeball.”
“This slimeball gave me a job,” Kalinda says, after biting into her lime wedge. Gauthier doesn’t give a damn who she is or comes from, as long as she gets the job done for his P.I. firm.
“I am offering you a better one. You’re good. The cops love you...” Kalinda smirks. “... and not just for the obvious reasons,” Peter smirks right back. “I’m told you’re a straight shooter and that you’re discreet. I need people like that in my office. I know the pay’s not great but it’s a regular income.”
Kalinda wipes her fingertips on the paper napkin that came with her lime. “Not interested.”
Peter takes a sip of his whisky as soon as the waiter sets it on the counter in front of him. “I can help you.”
“What makes you think I need help?” Kalinda asks, slowly running her index finger over the edge of her empty glass.
Peter takes out a brown envelope from his navy cashmere coat pocket. “People who change their names usually do,” he replies, sliding the envelope across the counter towards her.
Kalinda goes very still. She opens the envelope, rifles through its content. She’s still admirably composed when she closes it, but Peter notices she’s gone paler.
“Look, I don’t care what it is you’re running away from, Kalinda. But if I could find out that your fingerprints belong to a dead woman in Toronto this easily, other people will too.”
Kalinda doesn’t ask him how he got hold of her fingerprints. She’s been careful, but obviously not careful enough. “Blackmail as a recruitment method? You guys must really be desperate,” she snarks, pushing the envelope back in his direction.
“This isn’t blackmail. I have no intention of using what’s in there,” Peter says, laying his hand flat on the envelope, “even if you turn my offer down. I’m just letting you know you’re in a precarious position.”
Kalinda scoffs, knocks back her second tequila shot. “Thanks for the drink,” she says, wiping her lips with the back of her hand and gracefully stepping down from her stool.
Peter catches her wrist. “Think about it. If you really want Kalinda Sharma to be all that you are, I can make it happen.”
Kalinda looks down at his hand wrapped around her wrist, and Peter gently lets go. He stands up as well. “Just think about it.”
Kalinda holds his eyes for a split second, then turns on her heels and leaves.
~~~
“So, that’s it?” Kalinda asks.
Peter leans over to fan the papers out on the hotel’s room coffee table. “Social Security number, driver’s license, passport. Everything is in order.”
Kalinda nods, picks up the passport to examine it.
“I’d suggest you get rid of those counterfeits you’ve been using until now.”
Kalinda looks up at him, nods again. There’s no point in lying that she doesn’t have such things.
“I had to register you under your real name in the office’s database. I can’t do anything about that. But I will bury it as far down as I can.”
Kalinda puts the passport down, runs a hand over her face, feeling suddenly light-headed. She can stop running. She is Kalinda Sharma now. Legally. Or as legally as State’s Attorney Peter Florrick could make it. She sits down on the couch in front of the coffee table, relief making her hands tremble. She tucks them inside the pockets of her blue leather jacket.
“You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to protect me,” she says quietly.
Peter sits next to her, running absentminded palms over the crease of his trousers. “You’re an asset. It is in my interest to protect my assets.”
She turns her head to look at him, not knowing how to express her gratitude, not knowing how to tell him that he just saved her life. He’s a handsome man, married to a boring Highland Park housewife. She’s heard the rumors about him and call girls, so Kalinda removes her hands from her pockets, places them on both sides of his face and kisses him.
Peter pulls back, blinks. “This isn’t why...” he starts saying, then inhales sharply as one of Kalinda’s hand lands on his crotch. He’s already hard. This may not be why, but he’s interested all right. This will be easy. She lifts an eyebrow at him.
Peter shrugs. “You’re a beautiful woman, Kalinda. I’m sure this doesn’t come as a complete surprise to you.”
She’s got to admire his poise. She curls her fingers on the back of his strong neck. “Say my name again,” she whispers in his ear.
He does. Many times.