Authors: Evie Adams
Reasonable Doubts (6 page)
So he had his moments where he wasn't a complete ass hat. If there were more of them, maybe he could actually be a decent person.
There was still too much over confidence and insecurity in him that didn't leave much room for honesty.
And I was beginning to see where it all came from.
“You can play Doctor or therapist on your own time- I didn't hire you to counsel clients and Armstrong is over. Go work, go consult.” Diane lectured me.
“I was trying to say that this does help the firm, Josh is a much more satisfied customer now, more willing to spread the word about us.”
“Word of mouth is only so good in this part of the law. If there was a place where injured people got together and talked about their lawyers, we would be there already. We make money on cases, and when they're over, we do the next one. PhD isn't a real doctor anyway, no more than juris doctor, be the doctor we hired, get out there and make money.”
“So, do you have a list of cases, high priority cases, things like that?”
“No, go talk to people and find them. I don't keep track of every case here. I don't like to micromanage.”
“Ha,” said Hughes from the doorway. “Micromanage is all you do.”
“Only for you, only because when you're not somehow falling into a great closing argument, you're losing us millions.”
“So I'm supposed to walk around and bother people to see their cases?” I interrupted their fight.
“Yes dear, go bother people just like you bother me.”
"Diane, truth be told, she helped with my closing arguments. She planted the idea to make it about Josh, his struggles. Something tactile and visceral that the jury could feel. I owe her for that, without her annoying me, and without her psychobabble voodoo, maybe, maybe I wouldn't have got my closing. And maybe we'd have lost or settled for less. I think whatever makes her a better happier employee is good for us."
They both looked at me in disbelief. Incredulous, but it was true, partially true. Her annoying me helped me find it. She helped the miracle happen, she didn't perform the miracle, I did of course, but she laid the groundwork.
I walked out and she followed me.
"Thanks for that," she said, still not sure where to stand.
"Not a problem, it was true. Partly or completely, or minimally I'm not sure, but true."
"So you're not trying to sabotage or get me fired anymore?"
Never. "Not for now, but I like you on your toes, so you never know. What I can do is propose a truce. Let’s go to the bar and talk about the case or about each other, a drink to cement our truce, and if we fight maybe it'll shake another great closing or opening out of me, who knows?"
"We're at work, we can't slack off to a bar."
"Of course we can. You work for me, with me, this case is your only responsibility so let's talk about it. But I'm sick of the office, so let's go out. Work in another place gets you out of the rut, changes the way you think. Let's the subconscious do the work for you is that right?”
“Sometimes.” She stood there, still not sure she could trust me.
"I insist and we'll let Diane know on the way out. And we’ll see if Pam has anything for you. Grab your briefcase."
“Pam here knows every case, how important it is to us and how much the person assigned to it is struggling.”
“Hi Attorney---Miller, Dr. Miller? Attorney Doctor? What should I call you?”
“Laura is good.”
“I'm Pam, you know this beautiful man with a raging Oedipus complex, Jake, so what can I do for you?”
“Don't listen to Pam, she wants to have sex with me, and you too probably so be careful. You'd think a law firm would be careful about sexual harassment, but not us, not the office manager Pam or the head of human resources Pam.”
“Also the head of defending against all of your sexual harassment suits and workplace harassment suits too. And Mrs. Hughes' bartender But hey, nobody gets paid enough for their job do they? Nobody is ever paid what they're worth are they?”
“My official title is jury consultant, so maybe start with a list of who is going to trial and picking their juries, and after that, I can also be a second floating lawyer to help out, maybe do some research.”
“Team player, I like that, but nobody else will. One person teams around here. Mavericks. But you can start with Hughes, he has a jury to pick tomorrow.”
“No Pam, Laura has other things to do I'm sure. What about Stockton and his case?”
“Settling this week.”
“What”? He had a nightmare with depositions, like 100,000 pages he had to get through.”
“Trying to avoid another Falver, we're taking what the case is worth. Word is Artie Johnson is trying to buy this place, so we're trying to show a profit.”
“Lay off the donuts Pam and we might turn a profit, but anyways Artie has been trying to buy the place for years and we won't sell.”
“Word is he's trying to marry your mom, and buying the place is a bonus. Expensive date your mom is.”
“You're disgusting Pam”
“Upset over losing your job or someone dating your mom?”
There she couldn't argue with that. I waited for her and we walked by Diane's office, "Diane, we're going out to go over the other case, probably at a bar and I'll probably be drinking a lot, I don't know how Laura handles her booze so she might be drunk, all OK?"
"Just don't expense it, and try to get some work done. And promise no sexual harassment suits."
"Done."
"I meant Laura."
"It'll be very professional."
She followed me and gave a sigh when we were near Barristers, but we went in a door down, better food and less lawyers.
We sat and unpacked the file I had given her. “So tell me what you think.”
“My first instinct is he's untrustworthy.”
“Why?”
“Who has the Doctor's note explaining the injury and how it was caused by the accident before they see their lawyer?”
“If someone's actually hurt they see the doctor first.”
“Sure, but they don't have their doctor provide legal evidence. Not normally anyways.”
“What if the doctor recommended it? What if the Doctor was used to these sorts of things?”
“All Doctors are used to these things, they would say see a lawyer, see what he thinks. And then if it's something, they'll write a medical opinion, not before. I would have him checked out by a Doctor we recommend before we take the case.”
“What if we already took the case? What should we do?”
“Tread lightly, don't put in the work until we get an independent doctor's opinion.”
“What if that came back and it's fine.”
“That wasn't in the file.”
“You looked through the entire file this morning?”
“Skimmed it, but yes. For flags.”
She was good, I gave her an impossible task and she did better than I thought. Better than I had done. “Then assume, their doctor's report matched ours, then what?”
“That would solve most of my reservations, but with an injury like this, where potentially millions are at stake, I'd remind the client that the opposition will have private investigators following him, and if there is any concern, any worry, he should contact us, if his condition improves, he should contact us right away. And I'd still want a background report on him, from our own private investigator, more money upfront, but another bit of peace of mind.”
“What if you have 30 other cases, 12 of them at the trial stage, and don't have time for every little note?”
“I'd hire someone who does have the time. Depositions, trial preparation can run 100's of thousands, and you don't want that wasted when it can cost a lot less to hire someone to check your blind spots.”
It was infuriating when she was right on every point. “This one cost more than a million in trial preparation.”
She just looked at me. Those wonderful dark, mysterious eyes, then she looked down and away.
She already knew.
“Falver?” she asked.
“Yes.” Everything in Falver had checked out. We did almost all of what she had just said, but it still blew up in our faces. “I had some of the same suspicions as you at first, and they all came back clean. What would you have done differently?”
“I don't know. Maybe nothing. Sometimes the best get fooled. I'd like to think I'd have done it differently but I don't know. I'm smart enough to know that I can do stupid things, not see certain things, get too caught up to take a step back and look harder. I’ve been there before, plenty of times.”
“There aren't any second chances at trial. The stakes are high and you play to win, when you lose you lose. We lost. I had to move on.” My jugular was exposed and she didn't bite. John Falver was injured at work, a horrific injury. A machine blew apart and took out the man's wedding tackle. The thought still made me bring my knees together and cringe.
The doctor's letters had said he would be lucky to pee standing up. Reconstruction was a longshot with his damage. And even freezing his sperm so he may be able to have kids one day was a long shot. It was as bad a diagnosis as possible, and as good a case as possible. Odds are it wouldn't even go to trial. No defendant wants to argue that case in front of a jury.
And all of it 100% their fault.
Only problem was just before we were going to go into closing arguments, he was busted soliciting a prostitute.
A $100 ticket for soliciting prostitution turned into a million dollar loss for our firm.
And I thought the best of him at first. Sure it sounded bad, but I could understand a man that had that happen to him, still needing to be around a woman, even if the act was impossible.
But he was a regular with several prostitutes, and they were willing to say everything worked for him, sometimes twice in the hour he paid for. Finally, my brother examined him and determined there was nothing wrong with him.
My dick has made me do some stupid things, but never cost me millions of dollars. It turns out he paid the doctors off, his own and ours. He did have an injury, but not as bad as he claimed. Maybe the fear of it made him go crazy.
I ordered another beer. “Want one? I need some company here.”
“You're the kind of man who doesn't need company, I'm sure plenty are willing.”
“But I want your company today.'
“I should be flattered I know.”
“One shot. Tell me about your failures, since you've seen my biggest one.”
“I'll need more than one shot for that.'
“Jump in, the water's warm.”
“A drinking game?”
“Not just any drinking game,
Cross
, you never played it?”
“No.”
“What did you do in Law School if you didn't drink?”
“Study, get good grades.”
“I did that and managed to drink at least four nights a week.” He said, proud of himself, the dimples flashing at me and flirting with my stomach. “Rules are simple,” he said as he arranged several shots of tequila in front of each of us, stacked in rows. “And you should remember them from evidence. We cross examine each other, potentially trying to piss off the other person. You know the drill, whenever you put the other person on edge, you get who they really are. I wish I could cross examine everybody, no bullshit, no lies, lets you get at honesty, truth off the bat. Refusing to answer is a shot, lying, if caught is a shot, losing your cool is a shot. You're under oath and gentleman's rules apply. And you can always plead the fifth and take a dare. And we agree on the topic beforehand, careers and job? How about that?”
Tequila was a bad idea, but so was being here on a workday. “Okay.”
“Who goes first?” he asked.
“I do of course, ladies before gentleman, or whatever you are.”
“Fine, your witness.”
“Why a lawyer?”
“Objection, no foundation.”
“Permission to treat the witness a hostile?”
“Treat me any way you want, spank me.”
“So you're parents are lawyers, your brother is a doctor why did you follow them?”
“Someone had to keep up the family tradition. They were the best. I wanted to be the best. Plus they prepared me all my life. Dad would cross examine me every night at dinner. Mom would jump in too.”
“Sounds great.”
“Mine was not a family you lied in, unless you had evidence of course. If you lied in a way that was believable, that was different. Satisfied?”
“For now.”
“So, first time you had sex?”
I almost spit my drink out, “How's that relevant?”
“Everything is relevant. Let a jury decide that.”
“That’s cheating. You said the topic was career and jobs.”
“That is the topic, but I’m probing. Relevance is for the judge or jury to decide, not counsel. So, are you taking a shot or answering the question?”
“I was a good girl. College boyfriend. Two minutes. My turn. Your first time?”
“Freshman in high school, friend’s sister, almost got caught in parents bed.”
“First time you fell in love?”
“Never.”
“Never?”
“Nope, maybe with my dog.”
“Then you've never learned a lesson and had your heart broken? Made a mistake and had to live with it?”
“At work sure, you know that. But not physically. I took one or two psychology classes in college, didn’t one of your psychologists, Lacan say love is just the replacement for sex? The desire is sex, but since we can't have sex 24 hours a day,” he flashed those dimples again, “although some of us try, the body, brain chemicals create love to replace it, so we can have sex as soon as we're able to again.”
“Quoting Lacan? What is this freshman year of college where you try to impress me by being pretentious?”
“I'm well read. And maybe a little pretentious.”
“You're half right, but he didn't mean it the way you said it, not really. More that it sort of transcends sex. Love is more than a replacement. Sex is still a selfish thing, it’s you feeling certain things and hopefully the other person does too, but it still happens in you and to you. Love is different, a moving away from selfishness, experience the world as two instead of one.”
“I don’t get it.”
“No, you wouldn't would you? You can read my thesis if you want.”
“No thanks. My turn. So you were a trial lawyer? What happened couldn't hack it?”
“No, I could hack it well enough to get an eight figure verdict.” He looked at me coolly, the eyes narrowing, the eyebrows raised, then the dimples broke out. I kept talking before they sucked me in.
“The real answer is I wanted to try something else. Trials wind me up too much, I love it, but I get too competitive, I throw myself into it too much. You know the cliché about the successful lawyer middle age white guy, 5 ex-wives and a drinking problem? I could feel myself becoming that. It's a rush, but it’s too much sometimes. I'm a good second chair or consultant, but having the sole responsibility, is dangerous for me, I throw myself into it too much, I don't know how or when to back off. I don't have the ex-wives but I do have the ex-boyfriends, everything falls away when I'm in case. And when the case is over, I look up and my life has fallen by the wayside.” I had never said it out loud before, but that was the truth.
“So tell me how your parents trained you.” I asked.
“Diane and Jacob Senior were the best lawyers you've ever seen. A great team. I've been doing trials since I was 6 years old. Kangaroo courts somewhat, except rules of evidence, pretrial motions and I was going against Jacob Senior a seasoned trial attorney. Now, most cases were defending my brother, things like ‘who ate the cookies’ or ‘who broke the lamp’. Senior prosecuted, Diane was judge. I was defense attorney. You know all those tricks you learn your first few years out of school? The older lawyers taking advantage of you? Delaying discovery, playing games, not handing over the evidence, those cheap dirty tricks?”
“Leaving for a meeting without you? Blowing you off? Sure.”
“Point taken.” His eyes flashed at me. “I learned all of those tricks from the best at 8 years old. I argued discovery hearings in my pajamas, cross-examined witnesses at 10, I knew it and I loved it. And I know what you mean about throwing yourself into a case, but that's the only way, all or nothing. My turn,” he said, with a feral grin, “The kiss, was it something or nothing?”
“Something we can't do, so nothing.”
“That's pleading the fifth I think, an evasive answer.”
“Maybe.”
“So it’s a dare. Try it again. If it was nothing, then it’ll still be nothing, we should try it again,”
He pressed up close to me, and took me before I knew what I was doing. His body moved close, too close. I wish he had his jacket on, I wish his tie wasn't loosened, and oh god I wish he hadn't rolled up his sleeves, exposing those massive forearms, like coiled snakes.
I took a deep breath, nowhere to run or turn, back up against the wall. My stomach twisted, flipped. His arms were against the wall behind me, penning me in, my left hip against one forearm, the other on my bare shoulder, our naked skin pressing together, one of us was burning up.
“It felt like something to me, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it whenever I see you.” The false bravado dropped, and he looked like a person for a minute, a beautiful arrogant person with perfect body and adorable but somehow arrogant dimples.
This wasn't supposed to happen, we were working, this was too fast and too much.
“One kiss, then we do what I want.”
“Always. . . “ he whispered and I could feel his breath on my cheek, his eyes were focused on my lips, and mine on him, his body pinned me against the wall.
His chest pressed against, mine, I felt tiny under his bulk, my body exploded in shivers.
It was a mistake, a terrible mistake. This man was heartbreak. He was instant regret, he was a cocky man whore who would never settle down, who would be a tornado through my life and leave it and me a wreck, but my mind shut up when I felt the hardness in his pants press against me, just as hips lips pressed against mine, the hardness of his hips and the softness of his lips threw me.
Our eyes met and I thought I might melt through the floor. The way he looked at me made my whole body fill with heat. It was like the spark at our first kiss had kindled into wildfire, burning out of control.
I slipped a hand through his hair, as his mouth slanted across mine and our tongues began to explore. I forgot where we were, I forgot everything but the feel of his body against mine, my breasts pressed against his chest as he pulled me in closer.
"Laura, I want you," he whispered, kissing my neck, enveloping me in his arms. I could feel his cock hard through his pants, pressed against my belly.
I shivered as he lavished kisses over my neck and shoulders, his breath hot, coming almost as fast as mine. I wanted to answer him, to tell him me too, but I was too afraid. What would happen then, I wondered? What would it be like, how was this going to work?
"Jake," I murmured as his hands moved down my back, cupping my ass, squeezing gently as his tongue made little circles over my collarbone.
He pulled away, and took a moment to open his eyes, they opened at my feet and took a long slow walk up my body as his face turned into a smile when his eyes got to mine.
“So what do you want to do now?” He asked, sleepily.
That goddamn tequila shot. I swear it’s the tequila that makes me nuts. No more tequila ever. I forgot all my reservations as his dimples flashed at me. Begged me to go over the cliff with him.
“Do it again,” I told him.
