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She hung up and turned to him. “Hey, Myron.”
“Hey.”
Esperanza came toward him. She wore pearls and bold colors. Her blouse and skirt were both super-tight. All the senior partners at FFD were dressed likewise. It had been Sadie Fisher’s idea. When Sadie first started representing women who had been sexually harassed or assaulted, she had been told to “tone down” the outfits, to wear clothing that was both drab and shapeless. Sadie hated that. It was more victim blaming and she wouldn’t stand for that.
Now the lawyers on this floor did the opposite.
“Working a case?” Myron asked.
“Our client is a second-year law student at Stanford.”
“Good school.”
“Right. Her stalker, a horrendous guy who threatened to kill her on more than one occasion, was accepted to the same law school and insists on going. I’m getting the judge to issue an order of protection.”
“Think you’ll get it?”
She shrugged. “Just normal news at FFD. In not-so-normal news, is Greg Downing really alive?”
“Maybe, yeah.”
“I never liked him,” Esperanza said.
“I know.”
“You forgave him. I never did.”
“Look, I hurt him—”
“And he hurt you. I know. I’ve heard you say that before. It’s bullshit. You took him on as a client because you wanted to show everyone how magnanimous you could be.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Esperanza. Tell me how you feel.”
“Greg destroyed your dream—”
“He didn’t know how bad the injury was going to be.”
“—and now he’s faked his own death and murdered someone.”
“Uh, you may be jumping the gun.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to be part of this.”
“Oh,” Myron said. “Okay.”
“Don’t make that face. I hate when you make that face.”
“What face?”
“The Helpless Bambi one.”
Myron blinked and pouted, playing it up.
“Ugh,” she said. “Look, I got your message, and I did a deep dive on this Bo Storm for you.” Esperanza sat behind her desk and started typing on her laptop. “By the way, how was seeing Emily?”
“How do you think?”
“Not as bad as usual, I imagine. You’re happily married now. It’s all in the rearview mirror now.”
