Romantically Challenged (9 page)

“He could mix drinks and get everyone drunk. He’d be a big hit.”

“Like you would ever marry a bartender. You won’t even go out with a guy if he doesn’t have a master’s degree.”

“That’s not true. When I started dating Billy he only had a bachelor’s.”

I was glad she’d brought Billy up. I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to be the one to broach the subject. “Have you talked since you got back?”

“Briefly,” she said. “Last night.”

“And?”

“And nothing. He said he called to see how I was doing. I told him I missed him, but I was doing fine. He said the same, then his call waiting clicked in and we hung up.”

“Are you really fine?”

“Yes, I really am.”

She sounded okay, but I was still having a hard time believing it. “When Scumbag left I cried for three days.”

“I know, I was there. But this is different. Billy and I have mutually agreed to end the relationship.”

Scumbag and I had mutually agreed to end the relationship. Of course, that was after I found him in our bed with the actress from his TV show. I should’ve known the date with Joe wouldn’t work out. Me and wannabes never do.

Tough All Over

The next morning I decided to treat myself to a few hours in the firm’s law library. As a junior lawyer, I’d spent so many hours in the library that the senior partners used to tease that they were going to make it my office. Unlike most of my counterparts, I love legal research. I’ve always thought of it as a treasure hunt for the perfect case. Similar to dating, but better. When you found a case you didn’t like, you just closed the book and moved on. Bad dates lasted longer and were harder to get rid of.

I’d just settled into a comfy chair with a casebook and my coffee, when I heard what sounded like an underwater chain saw coming from the other side of the room. Past the bookshelves, and on the other side of the partition, I found Greg. He was lying on Rosenthal’s worn, stained, former living room couch, snoring. His black lace-up shoes and yellow tie were lying on the floor next to him. His head was resting on a soft covered book and he was using his suit jacket for a blanket.

I called his name, but he didn’t answer. When I shook his shoulder, he opened his eyes, but stared at me without recognition. “What time is it?”

“Almost nine-thirty,” I said. “You better get up. Rosenthal’s going to be in any minute.”

He sat upright and reached for his tie. “What’s today?”

“Thursday.”

He laid back down. “Then I’ve got time. Rosenthal goes for acupuncture treatments at nine. He won’t be in before ten.”

“How long has this been going on?” And why was I always the last to know?

“Just a few weeks. I overheard Rosenthal and Parker talking about it in the men’s room. Parker told him he’d read somewhere that acupuncture prevented hair loss.”

“Is that true?” If it was, my dad would want to know.

“I doubt it. Actually, I think Parker made it up just to get Rosenthal out of the office more. But it worked, so I’m not complaining.”

“And when were you going to share this information with your comrades?”

“Sorry, I forgot. I’ve been a little preoccupied lately.”

I wanted to know if it had anything to do with why he was sleeping on the couch in the library, but I didn’t want to pry. That was Rosenthal’s territory.

I turned to leave when Greg blurted out, “Samantha left me.”

I sat down on the edge of the couch. “I’m so sorry Greg.” I knew that was a lame response, but I didn’t know what else to say. “Maybe it’s just temporary,” I added. “Maybe the two of you can work it out.”

“No, it’s permanent. I went home last night and all her stuff was gone. That’s why I came back here. I couldn’t stand to be alone in the house.”

“That’s awful.” I knew it was. I’d felt the same when Scumbag left. Although I spent the night at Kaitlyn’s, not the office. 

“Fucking bitch didn’t even have the guts to tell me in person. She left me a goddamn message.”

“Did you call her back?”

“She said not to, that she’d be in touch. I’m supposed to just sit home and wait for my fucking wife to call me and tell me my marriage is over?”

“I’m really sorry, Greg.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s your wife’s loss.”

I’d planned on extolling Greg’s virtues, but before I could begin, he said, “I completely agree.” At least the break-up of his marriage hadn’t shattered his self-confidence.

When I asked if he needed anything, he told me just a shower and a change of clothes. “Will you cover for me if Rosenthal starts nosing around?”

“Sure, just tell me what you want me to say.”

“I don’t know, make something up.”

“How about I tell him that I saw you this morning and you were just leaving for a court appearance downtown. That should buy you a couple of hours.”

Greg tied his shoes and stood up. “That’s what I love about you Burns—you can lie with the best of them.”

“Only when necessary, and even then I don’t really like it.”

“You’re too good at it not to like it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m trying to be nice to the guy and this is the gratitude I get.

“You’re a lawyer, Burns. You’re paid to lie.” Then he put his hand on my shoulder. For a moment I thought he was going to hug me. Instead, he just gave me that reptilian smile again and left.

Despite what Greg thought, I am not a good liar and I don’t particularly like doing it. Nor do I agree with Greg’s view of our job. Representing clients didn’t mean lying for them. They did that on their own.

Clients, the Joy of Every Lawyers Life

On Friday afternoon I drove out to Rosebud Productions’ offices to meet with Rita Levin. I was waiting for her in the reception area when Mark Parsons arrived. He told me Rita was running late and asked me to come down to his office to talk. I was hoping that meant he wanted to tell me about a new case. I wasn’t up for partnership until the following year, but as Rosenthal constantly reminded me, it was never too early to start bringing in business. Not that I wanted to spend the rest of my life working for Rosenthal; I didn’t. I just wanted to make partner so I could leave with the title and get a better job somewhere else.

I followed Mark up the stairs and down the hall to his cavernous office. I sat down on the short side of the L-shaped sofa with my pad and pen in hand. Mark shut the door and sat down next to me in the corner of the “L.” Our knees were practically touching.

“You’re not going to need that,” he said, motioning to my pad and pen.

“No, I do. I have a terrible memory.”

“This isn’t about the case. I just wanted to talk to you.”

The general counsel just wants to chat? “About what?”

“About you. I like to get to know my lawyers.”

I shifted my sitting position so it wasn’t as obvious that I was moving further away. “What would you like to know?”

“Just tell me a little bit about yourself.”

I hated questions like that. I never knew the right answer. “Like what? Where I went to law school?”

“I don’t give a shit where you went to school. I want to know if you’re married? Single? Do you have any kids?”

“Good thing this isn’t an interview,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “You know you’re not allowed to ask those questions.”

“I know.”

I didn’t see any diplomatic way out of it, so I said, “Single, no children.”

“Boyfriend?”

It was no wonder their executives were being sued for sexual harassment. Even their general counsel was doing it.

“Just dating,” I told him. Then I asked him about his wife. If we were going to get personal, I preferred to be the one asking the questions rather than the one answering them. I also wanted to remind him that he was married.

“She’s fine,” he said.

“Did she have the baby yet?”

“No, not yet. But she’s due any minute.”

I continued hammering away at him with questions about his wife and future child until his assistant opened the door and said, “it’s Ron on line one.” Mark picked up the phone and instantly started schmoozing.

I listened to him talk about his plans for the weekend until his assistant returned a few minutes later and told me Ms. Levin was ready to see me. When Mark saw me stand up he put his hand over the mouthpiece and whispered, “call me Monday.”

I mouthed back that I would, but he’d already turned away.

* * *

I followed Mark’s assistant down the hall to Rita Levin’s office. I’d assumed that any woman who resorted to sexually harassing (or allegedly sexually harassing) her male assistant wouldn’t be that attractive. I was wrong. She was gorgeous. Tall and thin with long blond hair and striking green eyes. She wore a short, tight, charcoal gray skirt, matching high-heeled, open-toe pumps, and a hot pink sleeveless sweater. She didn’t need a push-up bra. Or maybe she was wearing one.

She motioned to a chair across from her desk and I sat down.

“So you’re here about that little prick Jared,” she said.

“If you mean Jared Kinelli,” I said, “then yes.”

“He’s just a money-grubbing bastard.”

This should be entertaining. I pulled my pad and pen out of my briefcase. “Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened. He’s just doing this for the money.”

“But you did fire him, right?”

“Of course I did. The little shit tried to blackmail me.”

“With what?”

She walked to her file cabinet, unlocked it, pulled out a file, then locked it again. “With this,” she said, and tossed the manila folder onto my lap.

I opened it and saw that it contained a copy of a Complaint against Worldwide Pictures for wrongful termination and sexual harassment. It also contained a copy of a confidential settlement agreement. I presumed this was the case Mark had told me about.

“I didn’t used to keep my file cabinet locked, but I do now. Jared found the file and said if I didn’t promote him he’d sue.”

“So you fired him instead, and now he thinks that Rosebud will settle just like Worldwide did?”

“Rosebud and me. He’s threatening to sue me personally.”

Either he’s being vindictive or he thinks it’ll net him more money. “But even if you settled, wouldn’t that hurt his career? No one would ever hire him again after a stunt like that.”

“He told me the settlement would be confidential. If it ever leaked, whether he could prove it was from me or not, he would get additional payments. The little bastard thought of everything.”

“Maybe not.” I had some ideas, but I wanted to research the issues first before I shared them with Mark or Rita.

* * *

As I walked towards my car, I saw Mark Parsons at the other end of the parking lot. I didn’t think he saw me, so I put my head down and picked up my pace. I’d just inserted my door key into the lock when his black Mercedes pulled up behind me.

“How did it go with Rita?” he asked.

“Good. I want to go back to the office and look up a few cases, then I can call you with an analysis.”

“I hope Rita wasn’t too rough on you. She can be a real bitch sometimes, especially since Jared left.”

Since Jared left? “I would think she’d be happier now that he’s gone.”

He shook his head. “Apparently she hasn’t found her replacement boy toy. I warned her if she started sleeping with any more assistants I’d fire her myself.”

“She and Jared were sleeping together?”

“Of course. Didn’t she tell you?”

No! “When I asked her what happened between them she said nothing, that he was just blackmailing her for a promotion.”

“And you believed her?”

“She told me that Jared found the Complaint in her files and saw an opportunity.”

“Jared’s not that smart. Rita told him about the Worldwide suit.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Who knows,” he said, then his cell phone rang and he was gone.

Why did clients lie to their lawyers? I’d never understand it. But on the upside, thanks to Mark’s revelation, I no longer had to go back to the office to look up cases. If Rita was sleeping with Jared while he worked for her, then there was only one option. I had to settle the case.

Bosses, What’s Not To Love

When I got back to the office, I checked in with Rosenthal’s assistant, Diane, to find out if I’d missed any crises. My own assistant, Lucy, had called in sick. It was Friday, after all.

“He’s been looking for you,” Diane said when she saw me.

“I was at a meeting.”

“I know. Simone told me. He said he wanted to see you as soon as you got back.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, but he’s on the warpath.”

* * *

I admired the view from Rosenthal’s corner window while I waited for him to get off the phone. Even the sky looked ominous.

“So how did it go?” he asked as soon as he hung up.

“With Parsons you mean?”

“Of course Parsons. Who else?”

“Actually, I went down to Rosebud to meet with Rita Levin. The only reason I saw Mark at all was because Rita was running late.”

“Rita Levin doesn’t send us business. Mark Parsons does.”

“Why are you yelling at me?”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you who the client is, Julia, you should know.”

“The client is Rosebud Productions,” I said, raising my own voice. “That includes all of its employees.”

“No,” he said, and slammed his glass of water down on the desk. “The client is Mark Parsons. At least as long as he’s Rosebud’s general counsel. He’s the one who pays our bills, which pays your salary. Now how did it go?”

“It went fine.” This was definitely not the time to complain to Rosenthal about Mark’s and Rita’s behavior. “I told Mark I would call him on Monday with an update.”

“Call him tonight.”

“He’s already left for the day. He’s probably home with his wife. She’s about to have a baby, remember?”

“Then leave him a message. And not just on his voicemail. Make friends with his assistant and tell her to call you when the baby’s born.”

“Why?”