Read Online The Mayor of Lexington Avenue by James Sheehan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Sheehan
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waiting for the queen to make her grand entrance, she had this uneasy feeling, like she was on the subway at rush hour and somebody was about to grab her purse. At that moment, Tracey entered the room from a door located behind her desk, a too-sweet smile pasted on her face. Elena instinctively pulled her handbag close to her body.
Tracey rarely noticed her clients. Of course, she looked directly into their eyes when the time came to be sincere, but it was all part of an elaborate dog and pony show. She schmoozed them and after they hired her and left, she couldn’t remember the first thing about them until the next time she needed to see them. For some reason, Elena was different. Tracey swept in the room with her usual smile, prepared to spit out the same old spiel, but Elena stopped her dead in her tracks. Tracey wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was her natural beauty and the stark contrast between them: Elena was dark, her skin creamy caramel, her silky hair jet-black. Even sitting, Tracey could tell that she was long and lean but with the ample curves of a woman. It was more than that, however. Perhaps it was the way Elena looked at her, like she was looking right into her soul.
Tracey didn’t realize that Elena and her son were about to become the greatest challenge of her career and that how she handled this woman and this case would become one of the defining moments of her life.
Tracey had been a marketing major in college, following in her father’s footsteps. Her mother had died giving birth to her and it had been she and her father ever since. Dad had been a businessman and Tracey had planned to be one too.
“Go to work for yourself,” Dad had advised. “You’ll never get rich working for somebody else.”
Tracey took the old man’s advice to heart. She decided to make the law her business. She could start her own firm, be her own boss. Before she ever set foot in her first law school class, she had a preliminary marketing plan in place, identifying and anticipating the pitfalls of the practice.
She traversed the state checking out the small, very successful firms. Personal injury was where the big money was for the small practitioner, and advertising was the means to getting the best personal injury cases.
“Experience is the only teacher,” Daddy had told her, over and over again. The last conversation on that subject was just a month before his death. “Don’t set your feet in stone until you know the lay of the land. Look into each nook and cranny. You never eliminate the risks but you can minimize them.”
Again Tracey followed the sage advice of her father. After graduation, she started slow, spending two years at the state attorney’s office in Fort Lauderdale, doing misdemeanors and minor felonies. That experience made her somewhat comfortable in a courtroom, although she didn’t intend to be there too often in private practice. It also taught her there were too many attorneys in the big cities, all gnawing on the same bone. The path to success had to be outside the major metropolitan areas, but that was the enigma: How do you make money outside the centers of money?
There were many small towns in the interior of the state in need of good legal services. It was an untapped market but a risky one. You couldn’t just pick one town and try to make it there. You’d starve. You had to have a base of operations large enough to sustain yourself while at the same time reaching out to the small towns.
That became Tracey’s plan. She chose Vero Beach as her headquarters, a sleepy town on the east coast populated by retirees but large enough to sustain a practice on its own. She took out a substantial bank loan and started advertising in the Yellow Pages, then radio, then billboards. Television was too expensive at first. Although personal injury clients were her target, she threw in criminal law as well. It was all part of the plan.
There were other parts of the package that had to be
Tracey rarely noticed her clients. Of course, she looked directly into their eyes when the time came to be sincere, but it was all part of an elaborate dog and pony show. She schmoozed them and after they hired her and left, she couldn’t remember the first thing about them until the next time she needed to see them. For some reason, Elena was different. Tracey swept in the room with her usual smile, prepared to spit out the same old spiel, but Elena stopped her dead in her tracks. Tracey wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe it was her natural beauty and the stark contrast between them: Elena was dark, her skin creamy caramel, her silky hair jet-black. Even sitting, Tracey could tell that she was long and lean but with the ample curves of a woman. It was more than that, however. Perhaps it was the way Elena looked at her, like she was looking right into her soul.
Tracey didn’t realize that Elena and her son were about to become the greatest challenge of her career and that how she handled this woman and this case would become one of the defining moments of her life.
Tracey had been a marketing major in college, following in her father’s footsteps. Her mother had died giving birth to her and it had been she and her father ever since. Dad had been a businessman and Tracey had planned to be one too.
“Go to work for yourself,” Dad had advised. “You’ll never get rich working for somebody else.”
Tracey took the old man’s advice to heart. She decided to make the law her business. She could start her own firm, be her own boss. Before she ever set foot in her first law school class, she had a preliminary marketing plan in place, identifying and anticipating the pitfalls of the practice.
She traversed the state checking out the small, very successful firms. Personal injury was where the big money was for the small practitioner, and advertising was the means to getting the best personal injury cases.
“Experience is the only teacher,” Daddy had told her, over and over again. The last conversation on that subject was just a month before his death. “Don’t set your feet in stone until you know the lay of the land. Look into each nook and cranny. You never eliminate the risks but you can minimize them.”
Again Tracey followed the sage advice of her father. After graduation, she started slow, spending two years at the state attorney’s office in Fort Lauderdale, doing misdemeanors and minor felonies. That experience made her somewhat comfortable in a courtroom, although she didn’t intend to be there too often in private practice. It also taught her there were too many attorneys in the big cities, all gnawing on the same bone. The path to success had to be outside the major metropolitan areas, but that was the enigma: How do you make money outside the centers of money?
There were many small towns in the interior of the state in need of good legal services. It was an untapped market but a risky one. You couldn’t just pick one town and try to make it there. You’d starve. You had to have a base of operations large enough to sustain yourself while at the same time reaching out to the small towns.
That became Tracey’s plan. She chose Vero Beach as her headquarters, a sleepy town on the east coast populated by retirees but large enough to sustain a practice on its own. She took out a substantial bank loan and started advertising in the Yellow Pages, then radio, then billboards. Television was too expensive at first. Although personal injury clients were her target, she threw in criminal law as well. It was all part of the plan.
There were other parts of the package that had to be
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