Icebreaker (4 page)

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Authors: Deirdre Martin

Tags: #Women lawyers, #Contemporary, #Legal, #General, #Romance, #Hockey players, #Fiction

BOOK: Icebreaker
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“We suspended Adam for two games,” said Commissioner Welsh, glancing at Adam with an unmistakable look of displeasure.
“Despite his not being penalized during the game,” Ty interrupted with a glare.
“The next day,” Barry continued, trying to regain control of the conversation, “we were informed that Adam was being brought up on charges of assault causing bodily harm by Patrick Dobbins, Philadelphia’s DA—”
“Who just happens to be running for reelection,” Michael interrupted disgustedly.
“According to Dobbins,” Barry continued with a touch of annoyance, “Adam’s hit was outside the accepted norms of the game, constituting assault.”
Sinead jotted all this down, all the while aware of Adam Perry watching her intently. “Why did you contact me?” she asked Justin Barry.
“We were told you were one of the city’s top litigators.”
“Well, I’m certainly one of the city’s top female litigators,” Sinead noted. “And I’m assuming you believe having a woman defense attorney could be beneficial.” Before Barry could respond, Sinead deftly continued, “That’s neither uncommon nor a problem for me. However, I’ve never defended a hockey player before.”
“Why are you telling us this?” Ty asked.
“Full disclosure, for one thing. It also means I’ll have a slight learning curve when it comes to the intricacies of the game.” She tapped her pen lightly against her pad. “For example, I assume it’s uncommon for hockey players to be brought up on assault charges?”
“Fuck yes,” Lou Capesi blurted, immediately looking sheepish. “I mean—yeah. Sorry for cursing.”
“That’s okay,” Sinead assured him. “I’ve heard every curse in the book, most of them coming from the mouths of Wall Street executives.”
There was something about Capesi’s rumpled look and bluntness that reminded her of Oliver; it was actually somewhat charming. The fact that the team had someone in-house who could spin the story would be a big boon.
“You play in the NHL, you know there’s this kind of risk of on-ice contact,” Ty Gallagher explained. “Guys have been charged a few times in the past, but it was always for hits outside the norms of the game: either cheap-shot punches or hits in the head with a stick. This kind of check is just part of the game. The charges are just bullshit politicking. As we’ve said, Dobbins just wants to be reelected.”
Sinead nodded thoughtfully. Six pairs of eyes were assessing her reaction to the information, especially Adam Perry’s. She looked at him. His expression betrayed nothing, which was curious. Usually defendants exhibited some level of anxiety. But there he sat, as unreadable as the sphinx. Sinead found it slightly unnerving.
“There’s footage of the hit?” she asked.
Welsh nodded. “Of course.”
Sinead put her pen down and looked around the table. “I would be happy to defend Adam,” she said, her eyes again drawn to him. No reaction to her statement, just that intense, inscrutable gaze. What was he feeling? Was he upset about the charges? In shock? Pissed? Brainless? She couldn’t tell.
Lou pulled a giant chocolate chip cookie wrapped in a napkin out of his jacket pocket and began munching on it. “Thank God,” he said.
“You know how a case like this works, right?” Sinead asked them.
“Yeah,” said Michael, smiling good-naturedly. “We pay you tons of money, and you pin Dobbins’s ass to the wall.”
Sinead chuckled. “I wish it were that easy. No, in assembling the case I’ll definitely have to interview the three of you”—she gestured at Adam, Ty, and Michael—“numerous times, as well as talk to other players and referees as potential witnesses.” She forced her attention back to Adam. “I’ll have to look into your past conduct. Gather autobiographical info. Talk to people who will testify to your character, things like that.” She looked around the table. “Have any NHL players ever been convicted of assault?”
“One,” said Welsh.
“Have there ever been any charged with assault who were acquitted?”
“Two,” said Barry.
“Well, like I said, I would be happy to take this case on,” Sinead repeated, putting her legal pad and pen back in her briefcase.
“What happens now?” Welsh asked, once again glancing down the table at Adam with resentment.
“You have the appropriate party from Kidco call my firm, and they’ll discuss fees, contracts, etcetera,” said Sinead. “It’s pretty straightforward.” She stood. “Anything else, gentlemen ? Anything you want to ask me?”
All the men nodded no, including Adam. Sinead took six business cards out of the pocket of her blazer, handing them to Lou to pass around. “Please don’t hesitate to call me if you have any questions. In the meantime, I look forward to working with you all.”
“I’ll walk you out,” said Lou, launching himself out of his chair.
“You just want to hit the vending machines,” said Michael.
“Va fungool,”
Lou replied affectionately.
“Not nice to talk like that in front of a lady,” said Michael.
“Again, apologies for my mouth,” Lou said to Sinead.
“It’s all right.”
Sinead nodded politely to everyone as she left. She was excited about taking on the case; it was something new and different, a challenge, which she loved. She’d be able to bury herself in it, forget her loneliness.
She found herself thinking about Adam Perry. Was it possible he was a brainless goon who had been instructed not to speak? She got the sense that part of the challenge with this case was going to be Perry himself. She had her work cut out for her.
“Well, that was
relatively painless,” said Justin Barry, draining his coffee cup.
“Until you get the bill,” Welsh snapped with a frown.
Ty looked irritated. “You get what you pay for.”
Lou walked back into the room. “I like her. No-nonsense broad. Smart.”
“What did you get from the vending machine?” Michael asked eagerly.
“Snickers Bar,” said Lou, holding it up for Michael to see. “Want some?”
Ty raised an eyebrow. “Remind me: how many heart attacks have you had now?”
“It’s dark chocolate! It’s good for your heart!” Lou protested, breaking the bar and giving half to Michael.
Ty just shook his head.
“What do you think of her, Adam?” Michael asked.
Attractive in a cool, corporate sort of way,
he thought,
with that long, sleek, brown hair of hers pulled back and her flawless makeup,
but that wasn’t what Michael was asking about. Adam noticed that she made a point of frequently looking at him. He wondered if she was expecting more input from him, since he was the one being brought up on charges.
“All I care about is that she wins the case,” Adam replied. He couldn’t believe it when he’d opened the sports pages of the
New York Sentinel
the morning after the game to read he was being charged for the hit. He sat there at his kitchen table, staring at the article with incredulity. Him being charged with assault causing bodily harm? What bullshit. It would be laughable if the prospect of losing the case didn’t mean his career could come to a screeching halt.
Lou and the league office had arranged a press conference almost immediately after the article appeared, featuring Commissioner Welsh, Ty, and one of the suits from Kidco. Welsh stated that the NHL supported Adam 100 percent, and that they’d be supporting the Blades in fighting the charges. It was short and sweet; Welsh took no questions. Adam knew he himself wouldn’t get off the hook as easily: the sports press would be all over him at the next game, sticking their mikes in his face, which he hated. Lou had told him to “No comment” them to death. Even if Lou had advised otherwise, that’s what Adam would have chosen to do.
Everyone except Welsh stood to leave. “Adam, Michael, Ty,” he said, “please sit back down. I have a couple of things I want to talk to you about.” He looked at Justin and Lou. “You guys can take off.”
“I’ll pop upstairs, tell the big kahunas we’re going with Callahan, Epps, and Kaplan,” said Justin, gathering up his things.
“Lou?” Welsh said politely.
“I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” Lou garbled as he chewed. “Jesus H., can’t a guy even finish his candy bar?”
“By all means, take your time,” Welsh said sarcastically.
Lou did just that. Adam looked down at the table, stifling a laugh. When Lou was done, he wiped his hands on his pants. “That was delicious.” He patted Michael’s shoulder. “See you boys.”
Welsh closed the door as Lou departed.
Ty eyed Welsh warily. “What’s up?”
There was no love lost between these two men, or between Welsh and any NHL player, for that matter. Welsh didn’t have a hockey background; he was a sharp lawyer whose previous sports experience was as senior vice president of the National Football League. He’d been brought in by the owners to help increase the league’s revenues—which he did, by forcing through a salary cap, much to the players’ chagrin.
“What’s up is this lawsuit,” Welsh replied with a frown. “These assault charges couldn’t have come at a worse time.”
“Why’s that?” asked Ty.
“Because the league has decided it’s time to clean up hockey’s image.”
Adam was skeptical as he folded his arms across his chest. “What does that mean?”
“It means what I said. The league wants to tone down the on-ice violence in the belief it’ll make the sport more appealing.”
Michael snorted. “To who?”
“We’re trying to grow the sport,” said Welsh. He looked directly at Adam. “Look, the league will obviously support you in public when it comes to fighting these charges. But off the record, we want to phase out this kind of violence.”
“Violence?” Ty echoed, looking at him like he was a moron.
“He’s got to cut back on the mid-ice hits.”
“I’m in the room,” Adam pointed out curtly. “You can talk to me directly.”
“Mid-ice hits are part of hockey, Larry,” said Ty as if he were talking to a child. “I know it’s a dying art, but it’s an integral part of the game, and Adam is one of the best ever at it. It’s part of the reason we acquired him.”
“It’s like fighting. It turns people off,” Welsh insisted.
“No, fighting turns people
on
,” Michael countered. “You get rid of fighting and the hardest checking, and you lose the essence of the game.”
Welsh sighed. “Look, I understand this isn’t what you want to hear, but for the league to grow, we believe we have to reach beyond our usual fans and bring in new people: young people, parents with little kids, specifically young American parents with little kids who don’t like their children to be exposed to too much violence. From now on, Adam, we’re going to be watching how you play very closely.”
“
Madonn
’, are you fucking kidding me?” Michael turned to Ty, incredulous. “You hear this shit?”
“Calm down,” said Ty. His expression was resolute as he looked at Welsh. “Larry, do what you think you gotta do. But I can tell you right now: the Blades aren’t changing a damn thing about the way they play.”
“Understood, Ty. I respect you a great deal and just wanted you to understand the big picture. I’ll do what I have to and you do what you have to. Gentlemen.” Welsh rose. “Good luck on the ice tomorrow night.”

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