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Authors: Sawyer Bennett
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with gratitude that I didn’t push the subject, and
we lapse into a truly scintillating discussion about tort reform.
Well, it’s actually more of a debate than a discussion, seeing
as how technically Cal’s practice of law and my practice of law
are on two opposite ends of the spectrum. Still, I can’t tell
you how refreshing it is to be with someone that may disagree about
my opinion, but still respects me enough to listen to it.
Bitterly, I remind
myself that Cal is proving to be everything that Matt isn’t.
Cal seems totally interested in me and wants to spend time with me
outside of the bedroom. Well, I have no clue if he wants to spend
time with me in the bedroom, but I’m just going to assume he
does because… well, he’s a guy.
After Cal finishes
paying for the bill, he looks at me with his warm brown eyes even as
he tugs on the tie at his neck. A sign of pure nervousness, so I gave
him an encouraging smile.
“McKayla…
I was wondering if you’d go with me to the Patron’s Gala
for the New York State Trial Lawyers Association next week? It’s
a black tie affair… I thought it would be fun.”
I stare at Cal and
blink a few times, not quite sure what to say.
Gah, what is wrong
with me?
My immediate
reaction should be to say yes. Any girl would be happy to go out with
someone as handsome and successful as Cal.
But my first thought
is, What if Matt changes his mind and comes begging for my
forgiveness?
The mere thought
that I would forestall moving forward with someone that could be very
good for me, all for the barest possibility that someone that was
probably very bad for me might come running, causes bile to back up
in my throat.
I am a pathetic
mess, and I’m actually a bit ashamed of myself.
Before I can talk
myself out of it or think one minute further on it, I give Cal a
radiant smile and say, “I’d love to go with you.”
By the time Friday
rolls around, there is no denying it. I am going to have to break
down and seek Matt’s help with the Jackson case. I’ve
finished all of my research on biomechanical engineering and even
interviewed three potential expert witnesses to hire.
The only problem
now, is I have no clue who to hire and whether or not what they are
charging is fair. Only Matt can answer that, and I need his guidance
and help with this type of thing. Before I can change my mind, I send
him a quick email asking for ten minutes of his time. He responds
back to me immediately and tells me that he’s in the office all
day, and to just come down to his office when I’m ready.
That throws me for a
loop because Matt is always meticulous about planning his day out. No
one can get into his office and take a minute of his time unless it’s
pre-approved and scheduled ahead of time.
The mere fact that I
have unfettered access to him all day puts my nerves into overdrive,
and I keep putting the meeting off for one reason or another. When it
gets close to six PM, I finally hitch up my britches and decide I
need to get it over with. I know Matt is still here because he rarely
leaves before seven. I make sure I’m armed with a bunch of
“Yes, sir’s,” and “No, sir’s,”
just in case I get in danger of being sucked into his hypnotic gaze
or something.
I’m just about
to stand from my desk when the door flies open and there stands
five-foot-three of snarling, spitting, bleached blonde attorney.
Lorraine Cummings.
She walks into my
office, carrying a file, and slams the door shut behind her so hard
that my undergraduate degree, which is hanging on my wall, falls,
causing the glass to crack down the middle.
I stare openmouthed
at it for a second, and then the anger starts to rise. I turn to her
to demand she pay to have it fixed, when she tears into me.
I’ve never
seen Lorraine so mad before. Her face is mottled an angry red, and
her eyes practically bug out of her head.
Holding the file up
in her hand so I can see it, she yells, “Do you know what this
is?”
“A
we lapse into a truly scintillating discussion about tort reform.
Well, it’s actually more of a debate than a discussion, seeing
as how technically Cal’s practice of law and my practice of law
are on two opposite ends of the spectrum. Still, I can’t tell
you how refreshing it is to be with someone that may disagree about
my opinion, but still respects me enough to listen to it.
Bitterly, I remind
myself that Cal is proving to be everything that Matt isn’t.
Cal seems totally interested in me and wants to spend time with me
outside of the bedroom. Well, I have no clue if he wants to spend
time with me in the bedroom, but I’m just going to assume he
does because… well, he’s a guy.
After Cal finishes
paying for the bill, he looks at me with his warm brown eyes even as
he tugs on the tie at his neck. A sign of pure nervousness, so I gave
him an encouraging smile.
“McKayla…
I was wondering if you’d go with me to the Patron’s Gala
for the New York State Trial Lawyers Association next week? It’s
a black tie affair… I thought it would be fun.”
I stare at Cal and
blink a few times, not quite sure what to say.
Gah, what is wrong
with me?
My immediate
reaction should be to say yes. Any girl would be happy to go out with
someone as handsome and successful as Cal.
But my first thought
is, What if Matt changes his mind and comes begging for my
forgiveness?
The mere thought
that I would forestall moving forward with someone that could be very
good for me, all for the barest possibility that someone that was
probably very bad for me might come running, causes bile to back up
in my throat.
I am a pathetic
mess, and I’m actually a bit ashamed of myself.
Before I can talk
myself out of it or think one minute further on it, I give Cal a
radiant smile and say, “I’d love to go with you.”
By the time Friday
rolls around, there is no denying it. I am going to have to break
down and seek Matt’s help with the Jackson case. I’ve
finished all of my research on biomechanical engineering and even
interviewed three potential expert witnesses to hire.
The only problem
now, is I have no clue who to hire and whether or not what they are
charging is fair. Only Matt can answer that, and I need his guidance
and help with this type of thing. Before I can change my mind, I send
him a quick email asking for ten minutes of his time. He responds
back to me immediately and tells me that he’s in the office all
day, and to just come down to his office when I’m ready.
That throws me for a
loop because Matt is always meticulous about planning his day out. No
one can get into his office and take a minute of his time unless it’s
pre-approved and scheduled ahead of time.
The mere fact that I
have unfettered access to him all day puts my nerves into overdrive,
and I keep putting the meeting off for one reason or another. When it
gets close to six PM, I finally hitch up my britches and decide I
need to get it over with. I know Matt is still here because he rarely
leaves before seven. I make sure I’m armed with a bunch of
“Yes, sir’s,” and “No, sir’s,”
just in case I get in danger of being sucked into his hypnotic gaze
or something.
I’m just about
to stand from my desk when the door flies open and there stands
five-foot-three of snarling, spitting, bleached blonde attorney.
Lorraine Cummings.
She walks into my
office, carrying a file, and slams the door shut behind her so hard
that my undergraduate degree, which is hanging on my wall, falls,
causing the glass to crack down the middle.
I stare openmouthed
at it for a second, and then the anger starts to rise. I turn to her
to demand she pay to have it fixed, when she tears into me.
I’ve never
seen Lorraine so mad before. Her face is mottled an angry red, and
her eyes practically bug out of her head.
Holding the file up
in her hand so I can see it, she yells, “Do you know what this
is?”
“A
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