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Authors: Stephen Penner
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law?"
"Because I'm a lawyer," I answered forcefully. Then I reached into my trunk and took out the holstered handgun I bought when I'd switched from criminal defense to family law a few years earlier. I pulled the holster over my shoulders and fastened it. "Now, let's exchange insurance information and wait for the cops to get here."
Jerk looked at me, clearly intimidated by the gun, but there was something more in his eyes.
"I don't have insurance!" he shouted. "So go to hell!"
Then he ran to his crumpled car and drove off, nearly crashing into yet another car as he swerved into traffic.
I closed my eyes and pushed the anger down into my stomach. Then I reached into my car, pulled on my suit coat and waited for the cops to arrive.
I was over an hour late for work, but I had a police case number for an excuse. I stormed into my office hoping that looking frustrated and frazzled might discourage the chorus of 'where-ya-been?'s I was expecting. It worked.
Mostly.
Danielle walked in right behind me.
"You're late," she said. It was somewhere between a growl and a purr.
She was the same middle-age as me, but you wouldn't know it looking at her. Long legs, long hair, with a perfect ass and tits in between. She was my legal secretary. Well, mine and three other attorneys. But that's all she was. Just my secretary. Really. Janie never believed it. I still think that's part of why she went looking for a Derek.
"I know," I answered. "Some asshole rear ended me."
"Tell it to Mr. Johnson," Danielle said. "You missed your nine-o'clock with him."
Damn it. I'd forgotten all about that.
I stepped around Danielle. She didn't move quite enough and my crotch got way too close to that perfect ass. I pushed those feelings down into my stomach too. I was pretty sure Danielle giggled at me under her breath.
I was going to bolt through the door and hang the quick right to Johnson's office. Mine was the last office before the Big Guy's. That was because Old Man Johnson thought I was the best lawyer at the firm. New Man Johnson not so much. Missing our meeting wasn't going to help.
But I was going to be even later. Jason Fletcher was standing in my doorway.
"Good morning, Mr. Mitchell," he said. "We all noticed you were late this morning. Is everything all right?"
Fletcher was a complete dick. He only called me 'Mr. Mitchell' to remind me that I was older—a lot older—than him. Like ready to get shoved aside older. And the only reason he was at my office was because he had his eye on it—and Danielle—since he'd shown up.
Oh, and he was New Man Johnson's college roommate.
"Fine, Jason," I grumbled. "Somebody rear-ended me on the way to work."
I expected him to get out of way. He didn't.
"I need to see Mr. Johnson now," I encouraged him to step aside.
He paused for a second—just enough to piss me off—then stepped out of the way. "Say Hi to Brian for me."
Subtle. First name basis with the boss. Got it.
'Brian' was sitting behind his daddy's desk, feet up, looking through some papers.
"You missed our meeting," he said when I walked in. He dropped his feet and motioned at the single chair opposite his desk. "Time is money."
I sat down. "Sorry about that. Some jerk rear-ended me on the freeway. He didn't have insurance and took off, so I had to wait for the cops so I could fill out a hit-and-run report."
I didn't mention the oversleeping thing.
He nodded for a few seconds, assessing my credibility. "Okay. Just get me a copy of that report."
Great. He wanted to see what time the accident happened. "Will do, sir."
Time to change the subject. "So what did you want to see me about?"
The sour expression he'd worn while assessing my story melted into a beaming smile.
"Money, Mike. I want to talk to you about money."
I tried to keep smiling. If there was one difference between Old Man Johnson and New Man Johnson it was money. Or rather, the way they pursued it. Old Man Johnson figured if he built a high quality firm with
"Because I'm a lawyer," I answered forcefully. Then I reached into my trunk and took out the holstered handgun I bought when I'd switched from criminal defense to family law a few years earlier. I pulled the holster over my shoulders and fastened it. "Now, let's exchange insurance information and wait for the cops to get here."
Jerk looked at me, clearly intimidated by the gun, but there was something more in his eyes.
"I don't have insurance!" he shouted. "So go to hell!"
Then he ran to his crumpled car and drove off, nearly crashing into yet another car as he swerved into traffic.
I closed my eyes and pushed the anger down into my stomach. Then I reached into my car, pulled on my suit coat and waited for the cops to arrive.
I was over an hour late for work, but I had a police case number for an excuse. I stormed into my office hoping that looking frustrated and frazzled might discourage the chorus of 'where-ya-been?'s I was expecting. It worked.
Mostly.
Danielle walked in right behind me.
"You're late," she said. It was somewhere between a growl and a purr.
She was the same middle-age as me, but you wouldn't know it looking at her. Long legs, long hair, with a perfect ass and tits in between. She was my legal secretary. Well, mine and three other attorneys. But that's all she was. Just my secretary. Really. Janie never believed it. I still think that's part of why she went looking for a Derek.
"I know," I answered. "Some asshole rear ended me."
"Tell it to Mr. Johnson," Danielle said. "You missed your nine-o'clock with him."
Damn it. I'd forgotten all about that.
I stepped around Danielle. She didn't move quite enough and my crotch got way too close to that perfect ass. I pushed those feelings down into my stomach too. I was pretty sure Danielle giggled at me under her breath.
I was going to bolt through the door and hang the quick right to Johnson's office. Mine was the last office before the Big Guy's. That was because Old Man Johnson thought I was the best lawyer at the firm. New Man Johnson not so much. Missing our meeting wasn't going to help.
But I was going to be even later. Jason Fletcher was standing in my doorway.
"Good morning, Mr. Mitchell," he said. "We all noticed you were late this morning. Is everything all right?"
Fletcher was a complete dick. He only called me 'Mr. Mitchell' to remind me that I was older—a lot older—than him. Like ready to get shoved aside older. And the only reason he was at my office was because he had his eye on it—and Danielle—since he'd shown up.
Oh, and he was New Man Johnson's college roommate.
"Fine, Jason," I grumbled. "Somebody rear-ended me on the way to work."
I expected him to get out of way. He didn't.
"I need to see Mr. Johnson now," I encouraged him to step aside.
He paused for a second—just enough to piss me off—then stepped out of the way. "Say Hi to Brian for me."
Subtle. First name basis with the boss. Got it.
'Brian' was sitting behind his daddy's desk, feet up, looking through some papers.
"You missed our meeting," he said when I walked in. He dropped his feet and motioned at the single chair opposite his desk. "Time is money."
I sat down. "Sorry about that. Some jerk rear-ended me on the freeway. He didn't have insurance and took off, so I had to wait for the cops so I could fill out a hit-and-run report."
I didn't mention the oversleeping thing.
He nodded for a few seconds, assessing my credibility. "Okay. Just get me a copy of that report."
Great. He wanted to see what time the accident happened. "Will do, sir."
Time to change the subject. "So what did you want to see me about?"
The sour expression he'd worn while assessing my story melted into a beaming smile.
"Money, Mike. I want to talk to you about money."
I tried to keep smiling. If there was one difference between Old Man Johnson and New Man Johnson it was money. Or rather, the way they pursued it. Old Man Johnson figured if he built a high quality firm with
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