Legal Reserves

by James Rosenberg

  Jack started to make a joke, but stopped. “Mike, Jeri is right. I never would have gotten through Contracts without you. Thanks. I mean it.”

  Jeri beamed with everything now out in the open. She looked at her two friends. They would never think the way she did, which was probably why she loved them so much. She reached out and placed a hand on each of them. “Not many of the women in our class wanted to hang with me. I’m glad I have the two of you. Peace is now restored, so I won’t feel bad getting out of here. I’m going to visit a friend of mine from college who’s in town. She’s staying on the other side of Oakland. I’m supposed to be at her place in fifteen minutes. Later guys, hopefully I will see you tomorrow before you leave me here alone for the summer.”

  She grabbed her jacket and breezed towards the door. A gust of wind blew her hair back as she walked into the darkness that enveloped the city. Through the window, the boys witnessed Jeri hustle determinedly down the street.

  Chapter 10

  May 26, 2011, First Year of Law School

  JACK AND MIKE downed a couple more beers and offered their farewells to their remaining classmates. They left the bar to stroll the three blocks back to their apartment.

  “I haven’t enjoyed a beer that much in a long time,” Mike said.

  “Probably because for the first time in nine months we haven’t had some professor breathing down our necks, telling us we had to brief six cases for the next class,” Jack responded.

  When they got to their apartment they grabbed beers out of the refrigerator and flicked on the television. “I’m so glad we found this place. It was awesome Jeri got a place downstairs. Certainly made our study sessions easier,” Mike said.

  Jack was already reclining on the couch. “I am going to sleep well tonight. Maybe my mind will finally turn off and I won’t worry about the next final or have some fact scenario from Torts playing in my head. It will be nice to get more than three hours of sleep.”

  Mike was trying to listen to Jack while the baseball game on t.v., played in the background, but exhaustion was beginning to take control. He mumbled, “I know, I keep dreaming about Professor Konos asking me some question about Contracts and I answer but I have no clothes on. Everyone is laughing.” Mike’s voice faded as he was nearly asleep.

  A short time later, when the game was approaching the seventh-inning stretch, both boys snored contently, their bodies finding stasis for the first time in weeks.

  Mike startled when a buzz in his pocket signaled a call. Jeri’s hysterical crying on the other end caused him to bolt upright. He tried to understand what was happening, but she was nearly incoherent and unable to form sentences. Before she hung up, he only learned she had been hurt and was in the hospital.

  The boys darted out of their apartment, sprinting the five blocks to the hospital.

  After they entered the emergency department they were directed to a treatment room where Jeri was attended to by a nurse. They were stunned when they saw Jeri’s bruised and battered face. Her right arm rested in a sling. They approached her cautiously. She raised her head and immediately began to cry.

  Mike and Jack gently sat by her on the bed as the nurse left the room. They waited for Jeri to speak. A small vibration emitting from a medical device on the wall was the only sound in the room.

  “I can’t believe it. I was so stupid.” Tears rolled down her cheeks, her swollen lips garbling the words. “I was walking to my friend’s apartment. I was close to her place and this guy asked me for directions to the Arena. I stopped and began conversing with him. He was young, nice looking. As I was talking, he suddenly grabbed me and pulled me down this staircase. He smacked me and punched me and said for me to be quiet. He grabbed my pants and tried to yank them off.... Oh my god.” Jeri paused, burying her face in her hands. Her body heaved.

  “I pushed him and he punched me again, right in my face. I got up and clawed his face with my nails. I ripped this one completely off.” She held out her hand to show them the bloody remnant of her third fingernail. “I managed to push by him and started running up the stairs screaming. Three guys came right away and pinned him down until the police got there.”

  The boys listened to Jeri’s story, taking in the extent of her physical injuries. A series of stitches held together a long, jagged wound below her left eye, which was swollen shut. She told them her arm had been x-rayed and was broken in two places. The doctors were coming to place it in a cast.

  Mike gingerly placed his hand on Jeri’s shoulder not sure if she would welcome the contact, but Jeri melted and leaned her head onto Mike. She again sobbed filling the room with her wails.

  “He was going to rape me. He got so close. Oh my god, it almost happened to me.” Jeri’s body heaved.

  The doctor told Jeri her mom was already on her way from Detroit. Jeri appeared relieved and crossed her arms on her chest, causing her to grimace in pain.

  “In a little bit, when you feel better, perhaps you can talk to someone about this,” Mike said.

  Jeri jerked upwards. “No, I am ready to put this behind me now. I’m not going to let that slimebag affect my life.” She paused and softened, reaching out her uninjured arm and signaling she wanted some personal contact. “Thank you for getting here so quickly. I needed you with me, but please, don’t tell a soul. I don’t want anyone to think I am weak. I can deal with this.” The boys protested, but Jeri remained firm−no one was to talk about this outside of their group.

  Jack and Mike recognized they would not change Jeri’s mind. The silence enveloped the room and they waited until Jeri’s eyes slowly closed and her rhythmic breathing signaled she was asleep.

  Chapter 11

  March 9, 2011−First Year of Law School

  MIKE ENTERED HIS apartment and was not surprised to see Jeri sitting on the couch. She waved and asked a question that Mike couldn’t quite hear. He said, “Everything is fine. How about you?”

  Jeri smiled as that was not what she had asked, but didn’t correct him. “I’m good. Just hanging here for a little until I can drag myself down to my apartment.”

  “Stay as long as you like. It’s pretty much your apartment anyway. I’m going to bed soon. Just spent three hours in the library. I’m toast.”

  “Don’t burn yourself out yet, we still have six weeks until finals. Plus, we have a study group meeting tomorrow. First year finals are just around the corner.”

  “You don’t have to worry. I’m ready for tomorrow. My Contracts outline is shaping up.” Mike held a black binder. “People will be willing to pay serious cash for a copy of this.”

  “Not me, I get a free copy.”

  “Me too,” came Jack’s voice as he entered the room. “Hey Mike, back from studying already. It’s only one in the morning.”

  “I have to work hard to keep up with naturals like you and Jeri.”

  Jack sat down on the couch next to Jeri. He pointed to a couple of pieces of mail on the cheap wooden coffee table. “You got something today.”

  Mike picked up an envelope and inspected it. He ripped it open and started to read the handwritten letter inside. The message was short, but as Mike was reading it he yelled, “Fuck you, you bastard.”

  Jeri and Jack stared at Mike, waiting for him to finish reading the letter. Jeri looked empathetically at Mike.

  “It’s nothing. Don’t worry,” Mike said, still looking at the letter.

  Jeri stood, walked over to Mike, and placed an arm around him. “It’s pretty clearly something. Can we help?”

  Clenching his teeth, Mike sat on the fabric chair that faced the couch. “I don’t know what to say. It’s my dad. He wants to visit.”

  Jack flipping through a magazine, casually offered, “What’s the problem with that?”

  “Nothing, if I wanted to see him.”

  “You’ve never mentioned your dad,” Jeri added.


  Mike looked at Jeri and tilted his head. “For good reason.”

  Jeri leaned forward. “What’s the reason?”

  “I’m tired,” Mike said, turning away. “I don’t feel like dealing with this now.”

  “Oh Mike, none of us like dealing with our parental issues, but it helps to talk about it. I think it took me like five minutes from the time I met you guys to start talking about what happened to my dad.”

  “Yes, we all know the story,” Mike said. “It’s horrible. But not everyone is an open book like you.”

  Jeri looked disapprovingly at Mike. “I’m not an open book with everyone. Just my friends. Nobody else in school knows anything about my dad.”

  Mike threw the letter on the coffee table and sank into the couch. “You really want to know? It’s not that exciting.”

  Jeri smiled. “We’re listening. Aren’t we Jack?”

  Jack placed the magazine on the table. “Yup. I’m all ears.”

  Mike leaned back, looked up at the ceiling and said, “Fine, it’s not that great of a story. When I was six, my dad left my mom. One day he wasn’t there anymore. My mom told my brother and me that he was moving to another town. I didn’t see him much after that. Got an occasional card. Talked to him every now and then. After a while, I stopped caring. The problem was that every time I heard from him I ended up feeling like shit. Somehow with a card for my birthday or if he just called I would end up feeling worthless.”

  “How did that happen?” Jeri asked.

  “I don’t know. It was a special skill he had. It was usually just a comment, like, ‘Well, not everyone can be the smartest one in class.’ It’s just that I never felt like he thought much of me. When I graduated high school, he wrote a note that said, ‘Congratulations. If you studied just a little harder, you would have made it into a really good school.’ My first couple of years at college were tough. I never could quite figure out how to manage my life. I tried calling him once for advice, but he didn’t have anything helpful to say to me...,” Mike’s voice trailed off.

  “Damn, dude, that’s some deep-seated stuff you’re digging through,” Jack offered.

  They sat in silence for a few moments. Jeri looked at Mike, who stared off into the distance.

  “Have you talked to him since you’ve been in law school?” she asked.

  “Nope, this is the first I’ve heard from him. My mom must have sent my address. I don’t think he even has my email address.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Mike thought for a second. “Probably nothing. Law school is tough enough without adding a lot of familial drama to it. I want to feel good about myself and if I talk to him I’m pretty sure I will end up feeling like I’m still not good enough.”

  Mike rose and walked towards his bedroom.

  Chapter 12

  September 7, 2015−Two Years after Graduation from Law School

  ON THE LOWER floors of the office, where the young associates toil at Carlton and Sanders, there is no wood paneling. The pungent wood odor that permeates the upper floors where the partners sit in their well-appointed offices is replaced by a musky dankness reminiscent of a neglected jail cell. Jack loved the offices on the higher floors and how they exuded power and money. On his floor, a sense of desperation lingered, especially late in the evenings when the lawyers labored in their small offices, unwilling to allow others to appear to be working harder.

  Jack walked with purpose and turned into a small office at the back section of the floor. “Hey good looking, your desk makes you look like an elf.”

  “You’re still an ass, Rogers,” Peggy Gamble replied, looking up from a stack of documents. “I can’t help it if I haven’t gotten a real desk and I am left to sit behind something that belongs in a fifth-grade classroom. Someday I hope to be like you and get a real desk. But remember, you are still on this floor and haven’t really gotten anywhere. Come on in and sit. What can I do for you?”

  “Wagner summoned me. I have to be there in ten minutes. He wants me to do a presentation on the hedge trimmer case.”

  Peggy winced in the same way everyone did when they thought of what happened in that case. “What kind of presentation?”

  “I think he wants me to be able to do a summary for the client. Hope I can get some face-to-face time.”

  “Wow, I don’t even get to know who the clients are for most of my work. Just keep reviewing documents. We are nearly two years out of law school and I haven’t spoken with a client yet. Certainly haven’t seen the inside of a courtroom. I don’t think any of the partners would trust me with that. Dammit, you and I were two of like twenty-five lawyers who worked on the hedge trimmer case. We drafted the interrogatories and the requests for production of documents. I can’t imagine how many thousands of hours have been billed to that case or the millions of dollars we have charged the client in fees. But Wagner has never talked to me and now you are getting to make a presentation to the client. That bastard loves having associates kiss his ass. I went to school in the south, not in the Ivy League like him and I’m not good at playing politics…” Gamble’s voice trailed off.

  “Do you think I can run through with you what I’m going to say before I get to my meeting with Wagner?”

  “Absolutely, I got nothing but time.”

  Jack stood erect and began: “In the case, the plaintiff, a forty-year-old man living on a small farm in Shady Elm, Indiana, was pruning trees with a hedge trimmer when he lost his grip. The automatic shutoff did not function, so when the trimmer grazed against the man’s thigh it sliced a six-inch gash close to his groin and cut open his scrotum, severing one of his testicles. The man nearly bled out from the wound on his leg and his nicked femoral artery. His wife’s quick reaction in placing a tourniquet on his leg saved his life. He would, however, be short one testicle for the rest of his life.”

  “I probably would leave out that last part,” Gamble interjected.

  “Good point.” Jack gently rubbed the inside of his thigh and continued. “The case was filed in state court here in Chicago nearly five years ago. Our firm has worked diligently to investigate the extent of plaintiff’s injuries and to evidence our client’s efforts to make hedge trimmers as safe as possible. We believe we have viable defenses and can make a good argument that the plaintiff misused the trimmer.”

  Jack stopped suddenly and looked at his watch. “I need to get to his office. He doesn’t like it if I show up late. I’ll figure out exactly what he wants me to do and get this presentation together. See ya.” Jack waved at Peggy and headed down the hall to Ed Wagner’s office.

  When Jack arived at Wagner’s doorway, he was once again struck by the sheer size and opulence of the office. Wagner’s desk and credenza matched and a large picture of a man riding a stallion hung on the wall, framing the desk. Wagner’s diplomas, evincing his graduation from multiple Ivy League universities, framed in walnut, were hung with precision over the couch in the office’s conference area. A furry, black and white rug lay under the glass table. The sun poured in from the floor to ceiling windows that lined the wall facing the desk.

  Wagner was on the phone, leaning back in his leather chair, when he spied Jack poking his head into the office. Jack took a seat in the mauve suede chair immediately in front of the desk, attempting to hide his nervousness. Wagner finished talking on the phone and yelled for his secretary to bring him a letter he had received the day before. He turned his back on Jack and composed an email that to Jack sounded to be to Wagner’s wife. After completing this task, Wagner turned to Jack with his best ‘I’m your buddy’ smile. Jack smiled back. Ed placed his hands on his mahogany desk and said, “How’s it going, sport?”

  “Fine, I’m working on some fascinating cases, but none quite as interesting as the hedge trimmer case,” Jack said, without attempting to hide his zeal.

  Wagner accepted the not-so-subtle c
omplement and ran a hand through his short, grey-tinged, black hair. Cufflinks poked through the sleeves of his jacket. He smiled again, revealing perfect teeth. Jack admired the press of his suit and the way his tailored shirt accentuated his physique.

  “Tomorrow is the pretrial hearing in the hedge trimmer case,” Wagner said.

  “Of course, trial is scheduled in three weeks. We put all of the exhibits together so you and Dave can focus on getting ready.”

  “Jack, you know the company has significant exposure in this case. Including the punitive damage claim, I’ve told them they could get hit for fifty to seventy-five million.”

  Jack nodded. Wagner continued, “I’m glad you have been so efficient working up this case. I wanted you to observe how things went during court conferences so you would be prepared when you got a chance to take the lead. Pete Daniels, the president of the company, is coming with us tomorrow. You met him when you helped to defend his deposition. He said complimentary things about you, so I thought as a reward you would come with us.”

  Jack beamed. Court appearances for anyone less than five years out of law school were unusual at his firm. Cases rarely went to trial because of the high stakes of litigation. He made a mental note to inform Gamble where he would be the next day.

  The following day, Jack got into the office early. After reviewing the case notes, he organized the file materials they would be taking to court. Thirty minutes before the pretrial conference, the firm’s van dropped the three lawyers and the president of the hedge trimmer company off at the courthouse.

  Dressed in suits, the four members of the team sat on the long wooden bench outside of Judge Valley’s courtroom. Wagner signaled to Jack to take a walk with him and they casually headed down the hallway. Wagner wanted to make sure they got out of earshot before saying to Jack, “I brought you here today so you can observe how these things are done. When we go into chambers, I will speak with the plaintiff’s attorney and we will resolve this case.”