She passed out Jim’s succinct, one-page description case of Eliana Thurston’s case against Gary Stockton. It hit all the bases: especially, enhancing Payne’s reputation with the Women’s’ Lawyers Association, the California State Bar, and possibly the American Bar Association, by weeding out a sexual predator, and possibly getting new case law on the books showcasing the firm protecting woman’s rights, condemning sexual harassment, and promoting the self-policing their own profession.
Jessica Richards was not only intrigued but good friends with Dee and active in the Woman’s Lawyers Association. She was eager for Payne to be on the cutting edge of stamping out sexual harassment in their profession. She wanted it with a vehemence that belied an underlying motivation born of an unspoken victimization she herself had suffered.
Danelli interrupted the two women’s love fest. “We’re already a bit diminished in stature because of the family law work we do. Not really a prestigious area of practice for a leading firm. This will magnify that, and you want us to eat all the pro bono hours?”
Dee’s eyes zeroed in on Pete. “Gee, you should have reminded me how we diminished Payne’s stature when Jim and I spent all night mediating your perky little ex-secretary’s sexual harassment claim. We saved your ass with a mere half-mil settlement … paid by the firm. That took a bite out of every partner’s draw. Yet here you are still.”
“You’re right of course, Dee. But this isn’t about a partner, or for a real client. I mean why—”
“Jim’s memo tells you why. The client is the sister of a close friend of Kurt Townsend, one of your own stars. He’ll do the work for nothing and advance the costs. I’ll supervise for nothing. It’s a seminal case if we can get it on the books.”
Jessica interjected. “There’s no financial downside. I vote we take it. Pete, Dee’s running a department that is a consistent profit center for the firm. So back off.”
“I agree.” Elden had been quiet to that point but knew Dee’s value.
“Well I don’t,” Danelli rejoined, petulant and unrepentant for his remarks.
Dee smiled at him, smug in her victory.
“Not unanimous, but thanks. I’ll take it and get the paperwork done. And, Pete, don’t expect any more favors from my department.”
“Huh? I’m on the Executive Committee. If I need a favor, I’ll get one.”
“You hope. Meanwhile, be a good boy and watch where little Petey wanders from now on.”
Dee turned and left.
Pete seethed through next two presentations. He said nothing, just rubber-stamped his colleagues’ votes.
* * *
By the end of the day, thanks to Dee, the case had a billing number and was officially with the firm. It was a modified pro bono case—costs not covered—Kurt’s billable hours not covered—and, evidently, gratitude for Dee’s dedication to the partners in the firm in short supply.
Kurt wanted to celebrate, but not with Angela. He texted Angela that he’d be late getting the complaint in final form. Then he called Regina.
“Want to celebrate our new cases together tonight?”
“Sure.”
The ease and swiftness of Regina’s answer, her availability, and the lilt in her voice brought back her scent and triggered his desires. With Regina everything was positive.
* * *
Kurt and Jim got the demand letter out.
Then Kurt gave himself a crash course in family law, tort law, and malpractice. He found no case on point stating that withholding legal services for sexual favors was malpractice. He had encountered holes in the law before, but this was a black hole. There was nothing even analogous. In drafting laws or in applying them, not every scenario could be anticipated. Case law made in cutting-edge litigation had to fill in the gaps.
This was a gap ripe for filling—sexual harassment claims had taken down several entertainment industry and media moguls in the past year and now had moved on to several D.C. Congressmen. The public was rabid for a cleansing. Sexual coercion, assault, and rape were not new and males had been the same for thousands of years —horny, tempted, and selfish—but the times had changed.
Kurt finished drafting Eliana’s complaint. Jim’s samples made it easier, but this type of litigation was factually unpleasant for Kurt. But he had covered all bases and his complaint would stand up to a demurrer. A motion Stockton might try to get it dismissed at the outset, arguing that the facts alleged were legally insufficient to support the causes of action.
* * *
All that was left for Kurt was crosschecking his work the next morning against Eliana’s more thorough chronology. Then steeling himself to meet with the helpless, emotional Eliana to review the complaint for factual accuracy before filing it.
Jim and Dee would give it any necessary tweaks from the family law perspective.
Next, Kurt would soon get even with this Stockton jerk with oppressive discovery demands too if he didn’t fold, just because he was pissed. He didn’t like Angela’s attitude about helping with the chronology, and it had knocked the wind out of the little altruistic fervor he felt. It was all about the fight now.
Just before seven, Kurt finished. He left to meet Regina.
His suit coat whipped behind him, as he took the hallway double time. His heart led his feet and his anticipation buried all guilt.
* * *
That night, after an exquisite dinner at Chez Maurice, Kurt experienced Regina’s Santa Monica condo for the first time—and her bedroom. No cat and no pictures of relatives or siblings—just a nice one of her very well dressed parents having dinner with her at the Hotel Bel-Air.
⌘
Copyrighted Material
Chapter 35
The next day at noon, Kurt had Angela and Eliana come to his office with their expanded chronology.
“This stuff is great.” Kurt scanned the expanded chronology.
Angela glared at Kurt. “Kurt. It was hard for Eliana.”
“I’m sorry.” Kurt stroked the two women—as required. “What you did here is brave and exactly what we needed.”
Eliana’s practiced, clever, and effective deer-in-the-headlights gaze triggered most men’s protective reflexes. All of that was wasted on Kurt whose litigator’s blood surged. He was a shark circling his prey—Gary Stockton.
Eliana added, “It’s embarrassing. I don’t—”
“You’re doing the right thing. He’s a sexual predator.” Kurt planned to use any damn detail he wanted to win—after all, it was he who had been suckered into this family center-ring circus act, and he was not going to have one hand tied behind his back.
Angela said, “He’s right. You’re in good hands. Let’s go.”
“But—”
“Let’s go. Thanks, Kurt”
Angela had to get back to the office and tonight she had to get an ever-distancing Kurt back in bed—on her side of the bed.
The three parted with upbeat verbiage but with underlying, unspoken regrets: Eliana for her married life gone bad, Angela for her unmarried life going bad, and Kurt for ever letting Angela move in with her cat and her ever-present, annoying, and time-consuming entourage.
Alone again in his sanctum, Kurt tweaked the complaint with Eliana’s candid juicer more damning facts. He emailed them along with Eliana’s expanded chronology to Dee and Jim.
Dee called a meeting for five in her office.
* * *
On arriving at her office, Kurt was handed a redlined, expanded, restated, clarified, and enhanced draft of his papers.
“I can’t believe I missed all this,” Kurt was embarrassed.
“You didn’t miss it per se,” Jim said. “It’s not your field.”
“Unless you want to join us?” Dee looked up from her computer over her reading glasses and waited.
“You’re serious?”
“Why not?”
Kurt took a considered silence and then responded judiciously.
“Too emotional for me. Give me two
impersonal corporations going at each other with wrecking balls.”
Dee laughed her signature laugh. “Gotcha.”
Kurt laughed and Jim chuckled.
* * *
Kurt went back to his office to input their changes and sent the revision by email to Jim to review the next day.
Kurt relaxed for the first time that day. He leaned back in his chair and stretched. He was hungry—hungry for food and for Regina’s company.
He called Regina. “Dinner tonight again? Seven? Lucia’s Tortoria in Santa Monica?”
* * *
Kurt made it home by one. He looked up the stairs and then at the couch.
As he dozed off on the couch with a throw over him, he thought, I’ll use the didn’t-want-to-wake-you excuse and take the flak.
He just couldn’t wrap his mind around getting in bed with Angela and her blood-sucking family. Not that after another perfect night with Regina.
* * *
The next day, as per expectations, Stockton had not responded to the demand letter.
Jim and Kurt, both controlled tactical litigators, then went for his jugular and filed the complaint against Gary. Just to further rattle him, they had the same motorcycle messenger who had waited so long for Eliana’s file immediately personally serve the complaint on him.
Kurt hoped the filing would put an end to this time-eater. Unlike Dee, he was committed to cleaning up the reputation of divorce lawyers. Not when he would cost him dollars and billable hours.
* * *
After the motorcycle messenger left, Gary scanned the complaint. His eyes lit up when he saw assigned judge’s name.
“The Dishonorable Fatima Vega,” Gary chuckled, throwing the documents on his desk.
Gary had charmed this newly appointed female judge once at his wife’s Christmas party and then at the last bar association dinner to honor a retiring judge. She had laughed at his jokes, which were lowlife but not inappropriate—except for the last one whispered in her ear, which she smiled at too.
Gary noted she was single and her eyes signaled green light.
His own red light stopped him when he checked out her ample body. A drunk mercy fuck would be a service to her and satisfy a fantasy of his, as long as she was in her robe and high heels and bent over the bench in her courtroom.
She smiled a wine-smile with pupils dilated and horniness confirmed.
Gary thought, Too complicated.
He skillfully left the unspoken question and flirtation open as he turned and talked to another judge about his wife and kids.
* * *
Back at the Payne firm, Kurt took the messenger delivered, file-stamped complaint down to Dee and Jim. The three seasoned litigators caucused about the all-purpose newly appointed trial judge assigned to their case, the Honorable Fatima Vega.
Dee scanned her PC screen. “Her bare-bones bio says she’s a Cal State San Bernardino graduate with honors in political science, with a J.D. from the University of La Verne in Ontario. She was a local product from marginal educational institutions.”
“She’s on the board of the Latino State Bar Section.” Jim flipped through the screens on his tablet. “Ambitious and delusional with those credentials,” Jim added.
“Connected or trying to connect,” Kurt scoffed.
Dee added, “That bio has a neon sign blasting bias against the top law schools grads, including Harvard, my boy.”
Jim said, “In my experience, agreed.”
Kurt added, “She’s new on the bench. About two years.”
Jim looked up. “I’m out there more often than any sane lawyer would want to be, but I’ve never appeared before her. I do recall rumblings though.”
“Rumblings?” Dee interjected.
“They say her emotions and biases control her rulings.”
“What’s new?” Dee replied. “Judges are all cut from the same cloth … black.”
Jim cautioned Kurt. “Her more than most of those marginally-qualified San Bernardino judges. They’re all sympathetic to San Berdoo’s small-town sole practitioners.”
Dee assigned Kurt to do more Internet research on Vega, look at her decisions appealed, and circulate an email to the firm to ask for candid information on her.”
He walked back to his office, knowing that there was no justice in the law if a judge was not neutral. Unfortunately, contrary to the prevalent public spoon-fed pabulum, judges all had the failings of ordinary people—the only question was one of degree.
Kurt’s inquiries turned up nothing useful. Either no one knew of anything significant, or San Bernardino was such an incestuous legal community the lawyers there were afraid to speak up. All judges, new and old, had a way of punishing lawyers they believed, rightly or wrongly, were critical of them.
* * *
The team’s inability to dig up anything but pro forma information on Judge Vega would haunt them. Publicly, all they knew was that she was unseasoned and there were rumblings about her biased rulings and favoritism. There was nothing they could find to confirm or question her proclivities, secret biases, or any consistent pattern as yet. Certainly nothing likely to move her to recuse herself and have the case reassigned.
* * *
Judge Vega’s secret bio and private life would have been revealing to them. A chubby kid from kindergarten on, her nickname, derived from Fatima, was “Fatty.” She hated her devout Roman Catholic mother for naming her Fatima and believed it had condemned her from birth.
A lifetime of merciless taunting made her an isolated, hefty, and depressed adult. She never dated. Worse, she had a glamorous, model-pretty younger sister, Consuela, who did. Fatima saw the boys and then the men worshiping her. She studied her sister’s control of men with no effort—until she dumped them for an upgrade. If they didn’t go quietly, Consuela would get a restraining order by claiming stalking and sexual harassment.
With a consuming intensity, Fatima hated the good-looking whore bitches like her sister. She was the antithesis of a feminist. She felt all attractive, thin fit women took advantage of men at every opportunity and the converse with attractive men.
Even though Judge Vega had now lost weight and was reasonably zaftig and not fat per se, she still harbored all her resentments, which invaded her well-disguised “neutral” behavior as a judge.
⌘
Copyrighted Material
Chapter 36
After Kurt’s filings in the Eliana case, the Christmas holiday hubbub sped up the days. His life was consumed with litigation tactical horrors, personal pleasures, and the season’s business getting-and-keeping cards, gifts, and parties.
The motions had not forced Stockton to his knees. He neither contacted Kurt nor capitulated on anything.
So as soon as the rules allowed, Jim helped Kurt with discovery documents Jim had used in other cases. Kurt’s discovery flew fast and hard right at Gary: demands for documents, special and form interrogatories, even deposition notices for Gary and Vicky—hers accompanied by a subpoena to force her to attend since she wasn’t a party.
* * *
At his office, Gary threw Kurt’s discovery back into the inbox for later.
Big-time assholes. Gary thought.
No response or objection was due until after Christmas and Gary would stall by relying on an extension from dear Judge Vega who liked him, was sympathetic to small-town sole practitioners, and notably pliable.
* * *
Gary’s December was always enjoyable. His divorce practice naturally slowed in the month of good will toward men—and women. He extracted the goodwill of his stable of women, gambled, and drank.
At their River Ranch home, Mary gave her hugely successful annual holiday charity event. Gary made sure every San Bernardino judge was invited, especially Judge Vega who Gary personally charmed, yet again.
Gary’s mandatory appearance ended when the judges left. Then, he exited to lock himself in his den with his TV, sports, and booze—away from Mary’s social climbing kiss
-up fest.
On December 23rd, Gary had Brianna to come in for another mandatory preholiday “consultation.” This time he pumped her lovely ass bareback across his desk. She didn’t cry her delicious tears until he slapped her buttocks red. Then, her tears made every thrust that much better.
Life was good. But then, Gary didn’t know Brianna was now a gun carrying woman—a woman on the edge, tired of being humiliated and past the point of crying, except with physical pain.
* * *
Kurt avoided the holiday gatherings with Angela, Eliana, and their extended Greek family. His excuse was his work on Eliana’s case and others. Work on the holidays was prevalent for lawyers in high-powered firms. It was the price of success.
As to Christmas day itself, Kurt was able to invoke the aged-parents excuse. It was a lie. His parents spent Christmas getting high with their friends and staying that way.
He spent the day at the movies and his office hiding. It was perfectly natural in Los Angeles with its a large Jewish community.
He happily avoided both his repulsive parents and the bombastic, loud, and Angela and Eliana’s too familiar Greek relatives and friends, “Greeking” and sharing their petty legal problems with him. Logically, Kurt knew a neighbor could not set their sprinklers to destroy someone’s fence, but he wasn’t going to research it and give a legally supported opinion to one of Angela’s Greek cousins. Law was not casual to him, just as brain surgery was not casual to a brain surgeon.
On New Year’s Eve, Kurt claimed he had to answer a TRO, a Temporary Restraining Order. Another work emergency. He was actually telling the truth that time. But the TRO was with Regina and they finished the opposition in time to ring in the New Year with a bottle of champagne and other celebratory and hardly celibate activities at her place.
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