pollutants of a material world.”
He walked over to the window then looked back at Helen. “This isn’t just a mid-life crisis, is it?”
She shook her head. “Afraid not.”
He stared out the window then walked back to his desk and picked up the divorce papers.
Harry James Scott had been holding his own at the meeting for almost an hour. When Reilly burst through the door, all sweaty and apologetic, Harry was ready to kick him off the case. But in seconds, Reilly had the rap stars laughing. Harry sat down.
Keeping the press away from this story was going to be very difficult. Philadelphia loved their bad boy rappers when they brought money and fame to the city but tended to slap them publicly when they brought shame and disgrace. Seems Mikey-Mike and his sidekick were more than just close friends—and someone had the video tape. This could seriously hamper CD sales. Reilly found a great deal of humor in the predicament, especially when he heard the part about the cleaning woman and the king snake. “Speaking of sex—”
“Yo mans! What you talking about? We was doing some rolfing, see? It wasn’t no sex, homes.” Mikey-Mike adjusted his formidable girth over his diamond-studded belt.
“Yeah, man. It’s like this European thing for your proper ‘linement of the physical body, see?’ Mini-Mike added.
“Oh yeah, right. Hey did you hear about those lawyers, Tom and Joe? They’re talking one day and Joe says, ‘Last night I took the new intern out. We had dinner then I took her home and we had sex. Man, I'm glad we did cause she is a lot better than my wife.’”
The rappers laughed and punched each other in the arm.
Reilly continued, “The next day Tom says to Joe, ‘You know what? Last night I took the new intern out. We had dinner then we went to my house and we had sex. I disagree with you, man. Your wife is a lot better.’”
Mini-Mike burst out laughing.
Mikey-Mike joined him. “You are one funny motherfucker, white-boy. You got any good black jokes, some I can tell my friends? Hey, Money? What do you think?”
Maurice “Money” Jones turned around, phones on each ear. He said, “Let me call you right back,” into one of them, then clicked off both calls with his thumbs. “Good thinking, Mikey. Let the public see you as the funny guy you are. That might be just the thing... considering the circumstances.”
He tipped his chin to Reilly. “Call my office, we’ll work out the details.” He looked at Harry. “Back to what you were saying, I agree. Get a dollar amount on that videotape and get it back. Whatever it takes.”
Money turned to Mikey-Mike and Mini-Mike, who were holding hands underneath the table. “C’mon, boys. I’m going to find you some lady friends.”
In the break room, Deluca read Reilly’s list posted above the water dispenser. “Top Ten Things to Never Say in a Law Office.” Number ten: Can I see your briefs?
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Sailor said.
Deluca turned to the voice. How had he missed this babe? And she was coming on to him. Oh, yeah.
He took a step back. She stepped into the space, extending her hand. “Sailor Jane Beaumont. Although I believe we have already met, Mr. Deluca.”
“Really?’ He racked his brain. Come on Eddie, you’re losing it. “So, where does the name ‘Sailor’ come from?”
“My Dad. He loves the sea. It’s very symbolic, don’t you think?”
Symbolic? “Oh, absolutely. It’s also very wet.”
Sailor was trying to decide whether to slap him or laugh in his face, when he snapped his fingers and said, “Oh, right—the elevator. You’re the intern.” He grinned. “So, do you want to have dinner sometime?”
Ray waited his turn for the phone. He played by their rules. He’d seen his advisor, slipped the CO a few bills, and even traded some real cigarettes to Mama “Frederico” Bell to buy ten minutes. As an added measure, Ray promised to write Plump Daddy’s parole board a
He walked over to the window then looked back at Helen. “This isn’t just a mid-life crisis, is it?”
She shook her head. “Afraid not.”
He stared out the window then walked back to his desk and picked up the divorce papers.
Harry James Scott had been holding his own at the meeting for almost an hour. When Reilly burst through the door, all sweaty and apologetic, Harry was ready to kick him off the case. But in seconds, Reilly had the rap stars laughing. Harry sat down.
Keeping the press away from this story was going to be very difficult. Philadelphia loved their bad boy rappers when they brought money and fame to the city but tended to slap them publicly when they brought shame and disgrace. Seems Mikey-Mike and his sidekick were more than just close friends—and someone had the video tape. This could seriously hamper CD sales. Reilly found a great deal of humor in the predicament, especially when he heard the part about the cleaning woman and the king snake. “Speaking of sex—”
“Yo mans! What you talking about? We was doing some rolfing, see? It wasn’t no sex, homes.” Mikey-Mike adjusted his formidable girth over his diamond-studded belt.
“Yeah, man. It’s like this European thing for your proper ‘linement of the physical body, see?’ Mini-Mike added.
“Oh yeah, right. Hey did you hear about those lawyers, Tom and Joe? They’re talking one day and Joe says, ‘Last night I took the new intern out. We had dinner then I took her home and we had sex. Man, I'm glad we did cause she is a lot better than my wife.’”
The rappers laughed and punched each other in the arm.
Reilly continued, “The next day Tom says to Joe, ‘You know what? Last night I took the new intern out. We had dinner then we went to my house and we had sex. I disagree with you, man. Your wife is a lot better.’”
Mini-Mike burst out laughing.
Mikey-Mike joined him. “You are one funny motherfucker, white-boy. You got any good black jokes, some I can tell my friends? Hey, Money? What do you think?”
Maurice “Money” Jones turned around, phones on each ear. He said, “Let me call you right back,” into one of them, then clicked off both calls with his thumbs. “Good thinking, Mikey. Let the public see you as the funny guy you are. That might be just the thing... considering the circumstances.”
He tipped his chin to Reilly. “Call my office, we’ll work out the details.” He looked at Harry. “Back to what you were saying, I agree. Get a dollar amount on that videotape and get it back. Whatever it takes.”
Money turned to Mikey-Mike and Mini-Mike, who were holding hands underneath the table. “C’mon, boys. I’m going to find you some lady friends.”
In the break room, Deluca read Reilly’s list posted above the water dispenser. “Top Ten Things to Never Say in a Law Office.” Number ten: Can I see your briefs?
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Sailor said.
Deluca turned to the voice. How had he missed this babe? And she was coming on to him. Oh, yeah.
He took a step back. She stepped into the space, extending her hand. “Sailor Jane Beaumont. Although I believe we have already met, Mr. Deluca.”
“Really?’ He racked his brain. Come on Eddie, you’re losing it. “So, where does the name ‘Sailor’ come from?”
“My Dad. He loves the sea. It’s very symbolic, don’t you think?”
Symbolic? “Oh, absolutely. It’s also very wet.”
Sailor was trying to decide whether to slap him or laugh in his face, when he snapped his fingers and said, “Oh, right—the elevator. You’re the intern.” He grinned. “So, do you want to have dinner sometime?”
Ray waited his turn for the phone. He played by their rules. He’d seen his advisor, slipped the CO a few bills, and even traded some real cigarettes to Mama “Frederico” Bell to buy ten minutes. As an added measure, Ray promised to write Plump Daddy’s parole board a
Similar Books
