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“Hi, and likewise. I’m still so excited to be working with you.” He pressed his lips into a grim line at my words. It was momentary, but unmistakable, although he recovered himself quickly. What was with that?
“Of course. Follow me, we can talk in my office.” I knew right away that something was off. Though he was equally confident and purposeful as the first time we’d met, his demeanor was subtly different toward me. Nothing I could put a name to, but it was definitely there. I followed him to his office, prepared for the worst.
“Take a seat.” He motioned to one of the two available chairs in front of his desk, then walked to the other side of the desk and sat down himself. “Look, I’ll cut straight to the chase. It’s not good news, I’m afraid.”
Though fear and disappointment coursed through me, I held my composure. A lifetime of setbacks had taught me how to take them like it didn’t matter. I waited for the shoe to drop.
“Unfortunately, due to some unforeseen circumstances on my part, I’m unable to continue with the suit.”
“Circumstances?” What the fuck? When we’d met the first time, he’d been nothing but positive and enthusiastic, both about working on the case, and about finding other complainants. Even more so about the prospect either of winning, or settling out of court for the kind of money that Cavanagh Corps victims currently couldn’t even afford to dream about, let alone possess.
“Do you mind if I ask what these ‘circumstances’ are?” I knew that it was wrong to insinuate that someone was lying to my face, but that was exactly what I suspected was going on, and I honestly didn’t care if he knew it.
“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to divulge that information, but suffice to say that it’s nothing that you’ve said or done.”
“How could it have been? I haven’t done or said anything since our last meeting.”
“Quite.”
“But you won’t tell me what it is?”
“Can’t, not won’t.” Whatever.
“That’s semantics, but either way, it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? The outcome’s the same for me.”
“I’m afraid so. I really am sorry.”
I took a long moment to look at him, and I believed he was sorry. If not, he was a damned good actor, as his body language definitely read that way.
“No offense, but an apology is useless to me right now. What I need is a lawyer who will take on this case, and actually have the integrity to see it through long enough to help me ensure that Cavanagh Corp does the right thing by my dying father, and the many others like him, who have been affected by their negligence and corruption.”
“I completely understand, and I wish you all the best with that search, really, I do.”
“You understand? Is that some kind of joke? Because you don’t strike me as the type of guy who has had to stand around feeling helpless while the one person in the world who you can call family slowly slips through your fingers.” I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to seem weak in any way, especially in front of a man I hardly knew, and even more so, a man like him. He was the picture of composed refinement, and I was a blubbering mess. Great.
“Ms. Sanchez, I really am sorry.” He looked uncomfortable. Sorry he had to deal with me, probably. He pushed a box of Kleenex from his side of the desk to mine, and nodded toward it.
“Don’t. Please. Sorry isn’t going to win this case for us.” I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand, then grabbed a Kleenex and blew my nose loudly, taking a few deep, sobering breaths so that I could get my shit together.
“I understand, and I really wish I could be of more assistance with that.”
“Of any assistance, you mean?” I shot back, knowing I was wasting my breath arguing with him, and that nothing was going to change the situation, but I was angry, and just needed to exorcise my rage before I picked myself up and carried on, like I always did.
“Okay, yes, I guess you could say that.”
“Yes, I guess I could.” I stared at him hard for a few beats more than was usually considered polite, and enjoyed watching him squirm. Good. It served him right. “Is there anything else?”
“No that’s all.” Why he’d called me into his office to do this in person was beyond me. Time was money, and I was blessed with neither. He’d taken on the Cavanagh Corp case pro-bono, so he wasn’t getting paid either way, but I resented having to spend time and therefore money, traveling to and from his office on a fruitless conversation that could just as easily be done on the telephone, or even via email.
“Okay, so I’ll be going. Thank you.” I stood up quickly, wincing as the chair scraped loudly on the floor.
“You’re welcome, and Ms. Sanchez?”
“Hmm…?”
“I mean it, I wish you all the luck in the world with this case.” He looked at me pointedly as though hoping I’d read some kind of unspoken meaning between the lines of what he’d said. I stared back blankly, my face a dull mask, and totally devoid of emotion.
Little did he know, but his words and loaded looks were meaningless. I didn’t need luck. I needed a good and reliable lawyer who wasn’t going to bail at the first hurdle, or even before. Better than that, I needed power, money, and influence. I had none of those, but the thing I did have—had always had, and would always have—was myself. I was the only person I could trust one hundred percent, and yet again, I was back to relying on me, myself and I to get through this new hurdle.
