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Chapter one
Mae – Busy Lawyer Life
“Mom, what’s for dinner tonight?” my fourteen-year-old daughter, Mina, calls out as soon as I shut the front door.
I kick off my heels and lean against the wall momentarily, taking a deep, calming breath. Today was a particularly grueling day at the office, and all I want to do right now is take a nice hot bath.
At first, when my firm appointed me as co-chair on one of the most notorious cases our defense firm has ever handled—the tax evasion committed by Lil’ Scrap, the top charting rapper—I was thrilled. All my hard work and late nights were finally being rewarded. Or so I thought. Today, it was made perfectly clear to me why the firm had chosen me to be a part of the defense. And it wasn’t for my years of experience and dedication to the team.
“So, Mae,” Glenn Shoemaker, the firm’s president, says as soon as I enter his corner office. “At the trial, if you could act…friendly with Marcus, that would be great.” He sits behind his teak desk, sipping on a dark amber liquid in a crystal glass. It looks too much like whiskey for 10 a.m. on a weekday, but he’s the boss.
“Friendly?” I push back. “Or flirty?”
“Yeah, same thing.”
It most certainly is not. I think to myself.
“And if you could loosen a few buttons—metaphorically, of course. You know, just to show that you’re really comfortable being around him.”
A metaphor? Please. You’re only saying that to protect yourself from being sued I think, as I shift uncomfortably in my chair.
I know he’s only bringing all of this up because there is another spousal abuse case against the Grammy-nominated musician. If I play everything off like he is a gentle and innocent man, the defense team working that case could play back video footage of our interactions as evidence in their proceedings.
I can just see it now. They’d say, “See? Now, does he seem like a man who scares women? Did she seem scared?”
Well, there is no way I’m doing that. I decline as politely as I can.
“I appreciate the advice, Mr. Shoemaker, but I’ll conduct myself just like any other lawyer on the team.” All the other lawyers are men, which, unfortunately, should have been my first sign that something fishy is going on. “I didn’t go to law school to stand before a judge with my assets out and flirt with a client like some kind of airhead,” I snap, and then quickly leave his office before he can respond.
“Mom,” I hear Mina call out again. “Did you bring home any dinner?” My daughter is standing in the hallway, her attention on her phone.
I shake my head and return to my current reality…and adversary. No relaxing bath for me tonight.
“I’m sorry. I left some casserole in the fridge for you,” I say to Mina, as I frantically try to untangle myself from my purse and briefcase straps.
“Seriously? That casserole went moldy like last week.” She briefly looks up from her phone, but then she continues down the hallway to her room. Her dark hair with golden flecks of blonde and red, the same as mine, sways over her shoulders as she walks. Unlike my hair, though, hers almost reaches her butt.
“You liked me when you thought you and your friends could meet Lil’ Scrap,” I mutter.
“I heard that!”
Hmph. Teenagers.
I go to investigate the allegedly moldy casserole, and it turns out that she’s right. So, I dump it in the trash and call Camdyn my favorite pizza guy.
He picks up before I say a single word. “Hello, Miss Dale. The usual?” He must have my number memorized by this point. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d probably wonder if the pizza guy knowing my number by heart meant I’m a bad mother.
“Hey, Camdyn. Yes, please.”
“Okay, so that will be one medium cheese—”
“Wait a second, sorry.” I put my hand over the phone and yell out, “Mina! Are you vegetarian this week?”
“Yes!” She makes it sound obvious, even though she seems to flip-flop from vegetarian to a die-hard carnivore every few days.
“Sorry about that, Camdyn. Yes, to the medium cheese.”
“Okay, great. And then a large garbage pizza with half banana peppers?”
