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“And?”
“The client doesn’t want anyone else to talk to them,” he says.
“The response, per this memo, is due Wednesday, and there is no case research at all.”
“The client wants no one but you handling this.”
“What if I was still in trial?”
“I understand, but—”
“Prep a letter asking for two weeks,” I say, dropping the file in front of him. “Get me a number and an agent name that I can call now.”
“It’s in the file. Top page.”
“Get me some research on the guts of this case, and who is involved now. I’ll let you know what else I need after my meeting.”
“Right,” he says, heading for the door, and I want to kick his young ass. But he’s not that young. He’s twenty-eight. At twenty-eight, I was already impressing people, not burying them which is what he’s about to do to my client. At some point, he obviously did impress my team here or he wouldn’t be a junior partner in a firm of eight attorneys.
“Nate,” I call out.
He turns to face me.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Answer again.”
He covers his face and drops his head. “My wife left me. I work too much.”
“Then you have the wrong wife or the wrong job. Make a decision and do one or the other right. I don’t do in between. Now. Not later.”
“Yes. I will. You’re right.” He turns and leaves.
I stare after him, aware that I was an asshole, as Cat would call me, but you don’t take a partner role and fuck around with your work. You don’t take a wife and fuck around on her by way of time or other women.
I dig for the agent’s information, a guy named Joseph Downs, and call him. He actually answers. “I took this case as I was going to trial because I know this guy. He’s as honest as they come.”
“He shouldn’t be playing with people who aren’t, then.”
“I need time to research what happened. Three weeks.”
“One week.”
“Two.”
“Fine, but not a day longer, and I want an in-person interview on the fifteenth day. You get fourteen free days. And you know why you get those days?”
“Tell me.”
“My buddy aided the Jennifer Wright case. He said the wife did it, and I hear you got the husband to turn on her.”
“I did, but it’s too bad that wasn’t the direction law enforcement went in the first place. I wouldn’t have defended her. Someone who sucks would have.”
“I hear the DA made that decision. But like I said, you get a favor. One. This doesn’t protect your client.” He hangs up.
The elevator dings and footsteps sound. My client, Casey Allen, appears in the doorway. “Hey, man. You ready for me?”
