Betrayed: A Rosato & DiNunzio Novel (Rosato & Associates Book 13) (17 page)

“Bennie, I don’t want to work those cases.” Judy didn’t dare look over at Mary, who stood aside in stunned silence. “I’m dreading the subject matter, the time, it’s all too much—”

“You won’t have to do it by yourself. We’ll crunch the numbers and see how many people you can hire.” Bennie brightened, grinning as if she’d gotten a great idea. “In fact, wait, I take that back. You run it by yourself, the whole shebang. Personnel and all. You decide whom you want to hire and whom you can fit in the budget, considering the billings you’re bringing in. Run the litigation like a partner. Run it efficiently. Lean. Don’t hire a lot of expensive experts. Make us 20 percent.”

“But I’d be chiseling away at how much a guilty company should pay someone they wronged. It’s not justice. Hell, it’s not even law.”

“It
is
justice.” Bennie frowned, puzzled. “The punishment should fit the crime. It’s about fairness. No company should pay more than someone was harmed. That’s why they hired us, and they’ll pay us well.”

“They hired us because they don’t want to do it.”

Bennie pursed her lips. “They hired us because it’s too expensive for them to try the cases in Philly and put up a bunch of associates in a hotel.”

“But it’s soul-killing. We’re on the wrong side of the question.”

“What are you talking about?” Bennie looked at Judy like she was crazy. “We defend the law. Everybody’s entitled to a defense, even asbestos manufacturers.”

“Bennie, let’s be real. This isn’t first-rate legal work.” Judy knew it was politically incorrect to say so, but it was true. “We always get the best cases, referred or not. Antitrust, First Amendment, civil rights, constitutional law, high-profile murder defense, big-stakes commercial litigation. We’re a quality shop.”

“We’re a
business.
” Bennie’s eyes flashed, but her tone remained cool. “We make law and we make money. There’s no shame in taking those asbestos cases, and it keeps the lights on. Don’t be a law snob. Furthermore, it’s an opportunity for you. If you do a good job, and you will, they’ll send us more.”

“What, more damages cases?” Judy threw up her hands. “Why not other mass torts? Yaz. Pradaxa. Coumadin. Hip implants. It’s a no-win for me. If I do a good cleanup job, I’ll get more to clean up.”

“You want to be real? I’ll be real.” Bennie met her gaze with naked frankness. “Carrier. You’re a brilliant lawyer, a
lawyer’s
lawyer. If I need a legal scholar, you’re my first choice. If I need an elegant brief, you’re my first choice. If I need cutting-edge case analysis, you’re my first choice. I truly value what you do here, as an associate. Your litigation strategy is aggressive and creative. That’s why I give you my cases, to work. Do you hear me?”

“Yes.” Judy knew Bennie meant this as high praise, even though it came off like criticism.

“But you don’t have a client base, and you can’t make partner without a client base. You understand that’s what’s holding you back, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Judy answered, honestly. She worked on cases that Bennie brought in and was the hired gun on some work she got herself, but she didn’t have the bread-and-butter client base that Mary did, getting repeat cases from small businesses all over South and West Philly.

“You don’t need me to tell you that the legal business has changed. That you can’t make partner in any law firm in this city without being a rainmaker. And Bendaflex is your best chance at starting your own client base.”

Judy wished she could give in, but she’d come this far, so she couldn’t. “What if I don’t like the work?”

“Seriously?” Bennie’s eyes flared an incredulous blue. “Are you really telling me you don’t like what’s for dinner, when I’m the one who left the cave, shot the beast, cooked it, and served it to you?”

“I’m not saying I don’t appreciate it.” Judy’s chest constricted. “But what if I can build a client base another way? Can’t you hire someone else to do the cases? Isn’t that my decision?”

“In a word, no.”

“
No?
” Judy repeated, blinking.

“I’ve heard you out, but you have to go with my decision. You’re not a partner, you’re still an associate, and as such, you’ll do the work we give you. End of discussion.” Bennie turned on her heel and walked away. “The safe’s this way.”

Judy stood red-faced, next to Mary, who looked stricken. The space between them widened to a corporate chasm.

Judy’s goose egg started to throb, but that could have been her imagination.

Chapter Twenty-one

“Frank?” Judy said, opening the door to the apartment, with her mother, Aunt Barb, and Penny behind her. Through the crack in the door came the unmistakable sound of a football game on TV, the stench of cigar smoke, and the hooting and hollering of American men losing their damn minds.

Judy’s heart sank at the scene in her living room. The mega-TV was on full blast, and the coffee table was cluttered with open pizza boxes, bags of hard pretzels, and beer cans. Frank and his two best friends were jumping up and down in front of the couch, cheering. She couldn’t be mad at Frank for feeling better and enjoying himself, but she knew her mother and Aunt Barb wanted to get to bed.

“Come on in.” Judy took the bags from her aunt and mother, setting them down in the small entrance room while Penny bounded into the living room, heading for the carbohydrates.

“TOUCHDOWN!” Frank yelled, raising his good arm. He had evidently recovered from his trip to the hospital, and was sitting in the middle of the couch, his bare feet on the coffee table, amid the clutter.

“I smell overtime!” shouted his chubby friend Eric Gordon, jumping to his sneakers. They called him Cartman because of his unfortunate resemblance to the round kid on
South Park,
and he demonstrated the same wardrobe choices, namely a T-shirt, blue jeans, and omnipresent knit cap.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” shouted Adam Dalrymple, a tall, thin, crazy straw of a hipster, who taught music at a city high school by day and played guitar with an indie rock band by night. All three men had been friends since high school, and though Cartman and Adam were married, Frank would never be, at least not to Judy, because he hadn’t even noticed that she and her family were standing in the room.

“Frank?” she called out, and he turned, then did a double-take.

“Oh, hi everybody.” Frank grinned, set down his beer, and came over, with a glance back at the television, undoubtedly to see if they got the extra point. The game went to commercial, and he did a double-take when he spotted Judy’s bump. “Whoa, babe, what’s that on your face?”

“It’s a long story, I’m fine,” Judy answered, testy. “Say hello to my mom and aunt.”

“Hello, Delia, long time, no see.” Frank hugged her mother warmly.

“You, too, Frank,” her mother said, with a smile. “I heard you hurt your hand. What a shame!”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Hello, Barb, great to see you!” Frank gave her aunt an obviously heartfelt hug. “Listen, I heard you’re not feeling well, but I know you’re going to pull through this, I just do.”

“Thanks, Frank.” Aunt Barb released him with a weary smile, her knit cap askew. “I’m sorry to put you out. I promise I’ll keep this stay as short as possible.”

“Stay?” Frank asked lightly, and behind him, Cartman and Adam started cheering and jumping up and down again.

“They got it!” Cartman yelled. “We’re going into overtime, baby!”

“Yes!” Adam slapped him five. “I beat the spread! Woohoo!”

“Penny, no!” Judy shouted, trying vainly to stop the dog from grabbing a pizza crust.

“Excuse me, honey.” Aunt Barb touched Judy’s arm. “Can I use the bathroom?”

“Me, too,” her mother chimed in. “We’re middle-aged women, remember?”

“Sure, go ahead, I’ll be up with the bags in a minute.” Judy gestured to the stairwell.

“Thanks,” Aunt Barb said, heading to the stairwell with her mother.

“Frank, meet me in the kitchen, okay?” Judy headed for the kitchen, but when she looked back, he was heading back to the living room. “Frank, can you come with me a second?”

“Right now? The overtime’s about to start.”

“Please, it’s important.” Judy went ahead into the kitchen, which was a mess. Open takeout containers of Chinese food dotted the counter, dirty dishes sat stacked in the sink, and the entire room reeked of chicken curry.

“I’m going to clean it up, so don’t worry.” Frank hurried in with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t know you were coming home, and we didn’t get the chance. But don’t worry, you know I’m going to do it.”

“Why don’t you just clean it up as you go, Frank?” Judy couldn’t keep the irritability from her tone.

“The guys brought the takeout over for the first game, but now we’re on the third game. I’ll do it before we go to bed.”

“Also, please tell me you’re not chasing Percocets with beer.”

“I had one beer, and my wrist feels a hell of a lot better.”

“Forget it.” Judy knew she was giving him a hard time, but she couldn’t help it. She was still frazzled from the confrontation with Bennie. “I called you but you didn’t call back. I texted you, too.”

“Sorry, I forgot to plug in my phone and the battery wore down.” Frank glanced back to the living room, impatiently. “The commercial’s over. What is it you want to talk about?”

“It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it? My mother, my aunt?” Judy gestured upstairs. “Remember, I told you today that my aunt is having a mastectomy tomorrow. I had to bring her in town to stay with us because tonight, at her house, there were two men—”

“FRANK, GET IN HERE!” Cartman hollered from the living room. “IT’S STARTING! YOU’RE GONNA MISS IT!”

“Babe, let me just go see what’s going on.”

“Penny, no!” Judy said, forgetting who she was talking to. “Frank, no. Don’t go. Wait a minute.”

“Can we talk when the game is over, honey?” Frank’s brown eyes turned pleading.

“No, because you can’t stay here until the game is over. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“What are you talking about? The game will be over any minute, as soon as somebody scores.”

“No it won’t. Football time is different from normal time.” Judy had learned the hard way that sports had its own time zone. “In football, two minutes means ten minutes, ten minutes means twenty minutes, and a single overtime can turn into double overtime, right?”

Frank’s eyes lit up. “Your lips to God’s ears.”

“No, that’s the problem. You have to leave the apartment. That’s what I would’ve told you if you’d called me back.” Judy skipped the part about her getting attacked, because evidently it wasn’t as important as a stupid football game. “My aunt needs to get to bed, and she’s going to stay with us. She and my mother have to sleep in our bed because that’s the nicest, and I am going to stay on the daybed. You have go to your grandfather’s for a few weeks. I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped—”

“What, why?” Frank looked at her like she was crazy, and Judy was losing track of how often that had been happening lately.

“Because, randomly, her house isn’t safe. A friend of hers was stowing all this secret money in it, which we put in a safe at work. It’s an emergency, and I really need you to work with me on this.”

“On what?” Frank edged to the right so he could still see the TV, and Judy was beginning to lose patience.

“Are you listening to me? She has to be at the hospital at six in the morning, and she needs to get to bed. She obviously can’t sleep with this noise level. You guys have to go somewhere else to watch the game.”

“No way!” Frank’s eyes flew open. “We can’t leave now. We’ll miss the overtime.”

“Go to Cartman’s. He lives close.”

“But his car’s parked all the way over on Arch Street. He couldn’t get a space any closer. We’ll never make it in time.”

“Then go to that sports bar on Pine.”

“There’s no time for that either. What are we supposed to do, run?”

“I don’t know, DVR the end of the game and don’t watch it till tomorrow.”

“What are you, kidding? It’s not
Glee
, it’s a football game.” Frank snorted. “Let her go upstairs to bed. We’ll keep it down. We can be quiet.”

“FRANK YOU EFFING DOUCHE!” Cartman shouted, cackling. “GET IN HERE!”

“Like that?” Judy shot him a Meaningful Flare, but he didn’t speak the language. “Frank, it’s not even the Eagles, is it?”

“No, but we need to know who wins because we have a shot at the wild card and—”

“Forget it,” Judy snapped, cutting him off. She had long ago given up trying to understand the complexities of NFL playoffs, which made the United States Tax Code look like a cakewalk. “Can’t you work with me on this?”

“Babe, you need to chill. Let us watch the overtime, then we’ll go.”

“Frank, have a heart!” Judy raised her voice. “It’s almost midnight. My aunt, whom I love, is exhausted and scared. She’s going through hell.”

“I know, and I love Barb, too. She loves me. She’ll understand.” Frank frowned, testy, and he glanced over his shoulder again.

“I don’t want to ask her to understand. I want to put her first. She’s been understanding all day long, and she needs us to take care of her now.”

“FRANK, THEY’RE AT THE FORTY! THEY’RE SENDING IN THE KICKER!”

Frank threw up his hands. “I know, and I will. She’s welcome to stay in the apartment, even in my bed. I’ll stay away as long as you want me to, if you give me fifteen more minutes.”

“Frank, don’t you get it? The woman needs to sleep! She’s having a
mastectomy
tomorrow!”

“I know that!” Frank shouted back. “What’s the big deal? It’s fifteen more minutes!”

“What’s the
big deal
? The big deal is she has
breast cancer
! The big deal is
she could die
.” Judy shouted back, but suddenly she looked over. Standing in the shadows near the kitchen threshold were Aunt Barb and her mother. And from the stricken expression on Aunt Barb’s face, she had obviously heard every word.

“FRANK, YOU DOUCHE! THEY SCORED!”

Chapter Twenty-two

“How do you feel?” Judy asked, at her aunt’s bedside at the hospital, waiting to be called to surgery. Her mother sat on the other side of the bed holding a plastic Patient’s Belongings bag, and the room was rectangular, containing several other rolling beds, all empty. Nurses in blue scrubs and covered shoes padded noiselessly back and forth, carrying clipboards and plastic trays of medication and supplies, evidently getting ready for the day’s procedures.