Beach Lawyer (Beach Lawyer Series)

by Avery Duff

  “And?”

  “After thinking it over, I added wrongful death to Section One so that any claims of that nature would be released by our client, too.”

  “Why’s that? I never sued Consolidated for wrongful death.”

  “I understand that, but we want Consolidated to accept this document, and I believe, as long as they are getting a release, they will likely ask us to release wrongful death claims, too.”

  Jack asked, “You believe? Likely? Really? I believe you’re likely wrong. I believe you went too far. I’m no mind reader about what Consolidated will and will not ask for, but I won’t release claims I never brought. Makes my firm look weak. It’s unprofessional.”

  My firm again. Robert said, “Yes, sir.”

  He got the picture now. If he had left out wrongful death, Jack would have called that a mistake, too: No back and forth, I told you. You should have included it. There was no right answer: Jack planned to burn him either way.

  “All right, then,” Robert said, making the changes on his computer. “I’ll delete wrongful death and the document is ready to go.”

  Thirty seconds later, the document started printing out. Jack said, “So, tell me, Worth, as you actually finish the release, what were you thinking yesterday in the Maxwell meeting?”

  What the fuck? Robert thought. He’s coming back to that? So he said, “My family is old-fashioned that way, sir. Always stand, always open the door for a woman. They drilled it into me, and all I can offer in my defense is that bad habits die hard.”

  “Bad habits die hard.” Jack liked that answer. Smiled and said, “I guess so.”

  Robert wondered if Jack was trying to see how much shit he would take. Does he want me to show more backbone? Then he remembered what Gia said: Let him win. And Philip telling him that in three days he’d be a partner.

  Jack continued. “Of course, I read your résumé before I came on board at the firm, Worth. I recall you come from south of San Francisco. Gilroy, am I right?”

  “Outside Gilroy, yes, sir.” Robert guessed Jack had read his résumé for the first time in the last hour. But he added, “Good memory, sir.”

  “Garlic capital of the world?” Jack asked, eyeing the family pictures on the credenza.

  “Other places grow more garlic, but we coined the name first. The Garlic Festival is more what the town is—”

  “I’ve been through Gilroy many times. Bet it’s rough to live around the stench from that processing plant downtown. After a while, bet it seeps into your pores.”

  Before Robert could force a smile and tell him that you got used to the smell, Jack looked at his watch and said, “Not a word from Lady Maxwell.” He dropped her release on the desk. “Toss it. She didn’t stick with the game plan, and her ten-minute grace period has expired. Nothing left to do now but withdraw as counsel of record.”

  Without a word, Robert dropped the releases into his wastebasket. He didn’t know whether Jack could withdraw so easily and he didn’t care. That was Jack’s problem. This whole Maxwell situation was going to blow over, even though Jack grated on him in every imaginable way. Philip was right last night: they were a volatile mix.

  “Hope that my dropping her as a client passes muster with you?”

  “Yes, sir, of course.”

  Jack stepped to the credenza and looked at Robert’s diplomas on the wall behind it: University of California at Berkeley and Hastings Law. “Berkeley, then Hastings. Don’t see a law review certificate on your wall.” Now Jack looked at him.

  “I wasn’t on law review. It was offered but I turned it down.”

  Robert thinking: Didn’t see law review on your résumé, Jack. Where was that again? Sandra Day O’Connor College of Law?

  “Turned down law review, really? That’s unusual,” Jack said.

  “I had obligations at home most every weekend. My family has a farming operation in the area, and that’s how it worked out.”

  “So, you go to college and law school in the Bay Area, stick close to home. Makes sense.”

  “Yes, sir, but now I call LA home.”

  “I don’t know, Monterey Peninsula, Santa Cruz, Carmel—the Bay Area’s hard to beat. I get up there whenever I can.”

  “I spent quite a bit of time on the coast when I was younger, but it’s changed. Crowds, traffic jammed up on Highway 1.”

  “Can’t argue with you there,” Jack said.

  Finally, Robert thought, we agree on traffic.

  “Fanelli tells me you might make a good lawyer—one of these days. That you might be able to go the distance.”

  “Go the distance? I think he’s right, sir.”

  Jack picked up a photo from the credenza. “You mind?” he asked, after the fact.

  “Not at all,” Robert said, even though he minded a great deal.

  It was a photograph of his whole family. His parents, his aunt and uncle, too. All of them on the front porch of the large family home. Several Latinos were in the mix, too, and sparklers sizzled for a Fourth of July celebration.

  “Even the servants got in on this one, huh?”

  Meaning the Latinos. The farm’s operations manager, Luis, was like family to Robert, but he found himself saying, “Sure did, couldn’t keep ’em away.”

  “Looks like a great time.” Jack kept looking at the picture. Then from out of nowhere: “Like you said to me before, your ma and your pa, they would have handled Ms. Maxwell differently from how I handled her yesterday. Is that right?”

  Hearing ma and pa, Robert didn’t answer. Anger pinpricked his neck.

  “I guess things are different up in Gilroy. Up there at the—what is it? The Garlic Festival? All the rubes cleaned up for that one big day every year?”

  Robert felt himself flush with anger. Felt it build.

  “Yesterday’s meeting, Worth, you blew it. Do I have to worry about you every time I turn up the heat on a client? What did you think, Worth, standing up for her? Opening the door for that high-handed bitch? Did you think, what, did you think you were her knight in shining armor?”

  Robert glared at him, not sure what would come out of his mouth. What finally did: “No, sir, I didn’t.”

  “No, sir, I didn’t? Then why, Sir Galahad? Why? It’s beyond all comprehension what you did. I couldn’t sleep last night thinking about what a colossal fuckup you are. Maybe I missed it, but I didn’t see Chase helping her out, did you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Honest to God, I’ve never seen anything like it. The little bitch I helped out for months. That lying little bitch doesn’t even have the courtesy to show up this morning like she agreed!”

  Robert looked down, nodding. She had not agreed to come in, but he kept nodding anyway. At this point, “Yes, sir” was all he could find to say. That is, until Jack tossed that family photo on his desk. At first, Robert didn’t see what happened, he was wrapped so tight in his anger.

  Then he saw his family picture on the desk. Inside the frame, the glass had cracked right down the middle. It was an accident. Even Jack looked like he knew he’d gone too far.

  But Robert didn’t see the look on the other man’s face, or see that he was about to speak. He exploded from his chair: “Probably still in the hospital. Maybe that’s why the little bitch didn’t call you!”

  Jack’s face went hard instantly. “Wait a minute? All this time? All this time you know that piece of information and don’t mention it?”

  Robert didn’t answer.

  “She called you? You? Quick work, Worth. You already fucking her or what?”

  “No, sir, not at all. I—”

  “Then stop dancing around, and tell me what happened to my client.”

  My client again. Robert took a breath, ran it down in his mind. Jack broke the glass inside his family picture. Indefensible, totally out of line. Stop now. Ask him to leave your office, get Philip involved. No. A partner wouldn’t do that. A partner would handle it himself, not run to the grown-ups for backup.

>   Robert said, “She had my card from the meeting yesterday. It was late. She called me at home and said she needed help. When I got there, she told me . . . she said that you came to her apartment and made improper advances.” He recalled exactly what he told her: “And I told her I was sure she was mistaken. That you were a respected member of the—”

  “Bet that’s exactly what you told her.”

  “I told her that you were a respected member of the bar, that she was mistaken, and that is exactly what I told her, Mr. Pierce.”

  “You sure?”

  “One hundred percent positive.”

  “Jesus Christ, I knew she was a liar. Which hospital?”

  “Brotman. Culver City.”

  “I know where it is, Worth. After she called, why didn’t you call me?”

  “I considered it but didn’t have your cell number. It was too late to rely on e-mail or to call your landline at home. I should have brought it up this morning, but the Palmer deal blew up back east, and I was putting out fires till a few minutes before you walked in my office.”

  Robert stopped, watched Jack nodding. Looked to him like he was going to defuse this on his own.

  “That it?” Jack asked.

  Robert was thinking about how far to go, about to answer the question, when Jack said, “Is that all of it or not? Let’s hear it, Worth. Don’t be such a fucking pussy.”

  Robert felt a white calm descend on him. “Mr. Pierce, it’s better you don’t call me that. I’d really appreciate it.”

  “A pussy? Okay, sorry, Robert. Before I call the hospital to find out about my client—is that it, Robert? It, as in, is that everything I should know before I make the call, Robert? As in, every, single, fucking thing, Robert?”

  Robert’s eyes narrowed. He swallowed hard. “The attending physician noticed bruises on her wrists. Ms. Maxwell mentioned in passing that you grabbed her wrists at her apartment.”

  “Hard to do that if I’m not there, isn’t it?”

  “It would be impossible,” Robert managed to say.

  “Maybe she likes it rough with her boyfriend or with strangers or with her paying clients or with who-the-fuck knows? Any of that ever cross your mind, Robert?”

  Robert said, “I considered all of that, yes,” even though he had not.

  “Now, then. Have you given me every single motherfucking thing I need to know?”

  Robert was about to explode, his head pulsing so hard he couldn’t speak.

  “Spit it out, Worth! Spit it out, you backbiting pussy. Is that all of it?”

  That was all Robert was going to take. “No—she said you told her you’d drop her case unless she had sex with you.”

  “And I dropped her, didn’t I? So you think I went to that whore’s place, don’t you? Sure you do, and you’re wrong again. I was working with Chase last night, you worthless jackoff!”

  This time, Jack swept that family photo off the desk, against the wall, and shattered the frame. That was it. Robert came from behind his desk and pushed him hard in the chest with both hands, knocking him back.

  “Goddamn you. You got no right to do that!”

  Jack raised his hands, all innocence and smiles. “Why not, Worth? It’s my firm, and you? You’re outta here.”

  “I busted my ass five years for this firm.”

  “Bust it five more, you might make partner somewhere else.”

  “You’re the biggest fucking asshole I ever met.”

  Jack’s smile broadened. “Already knew that’s how you felt. That’s why you stood up for that cunt yesterday, opened the door for her—to show me. But you finally got one thing right. I am an asshole and I’m paid well for it. Now pack your overalls, farm boy, and roll on outta here.”

  Jack headed for the door, pulled out his cell phone, and made a call: “Hey, get what’s-his-name up here from security.” Then he was out the door.

  Jack headed down the hall. People ducked into their offices as he headed their way. After that, Robert slammed his door shut.

  “Motherfucker!” he shouted, and kicked his office wall. Kicked it so hard he busted a hole through the drywall. Then he leaned on his desk with both arms and exhaled.

  “Oh, man . . .”

  Down in the firm’s litigation section, Jack calmly opened the door to Chase’s office without knocking. Chase looked up from his computer screen.

  “Chase,” Jack said, “time we had a chat.”

  After that, he swung Chase’s door shut.

  Carlos from building security waited at Robert’s door. Robert jammed his diplomas and photographs into a box. Philip entered his office, nodded to Carlos, and closed the door behind him.

  Robert didn’t bother looking up. He knew it was Philip.

  “Dorothy Brightwell. Brightwell Industries,” Robert said. “I don’t care who Pierce married. I don’t take that kind of treatment from anybody.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter what happened. One way or another, I was never going to make it past Pierce, not with him running the show.”

  “Did you mention the girl?”

  “Yes. I did.”

  “I told you that was a mistake.”

  “It was impossible not to mention her,” Robert said. “He kept coming back to yesterday’s meeting, over and over again. He wouldn’t let go of it.” Now he looked at Philip. “Your partner sexually assaults a client and you let it pass? How many times has that happened?”

  “We don’t know what happened. Accusations like that are easy to—”

  “Easy to make, hard to prove, I know the drill. By the way, Jack fired Gia yesterday. Good-looking woman like her, office manager, wonder what that was about?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  Robert packed his shattered family photo, tired of dealing with it.

  “Pierce didn’t even work here when I started. I picked this firm because of you. I trusted you, not him. Can I have my job back? Yes or no?”

  Philip looked down. “Could I have made it any clearer? For now, he’s calling the shots.”

  “For now, for always. You caved. By the way, the Ragsdale closing went great. Hanalei wanted me to rep her because you’re not around anymore. You gave him the firm without a fight. Why not go ahead and take your name off the door if that’s how it is?”

  Robert brushed past him, and Philip could only watch it happen, sick at heart.

  Out in the hall, Carlos followed Robert to the elevators. Robert handed over his key fob accessing the computer system. Did the same with his office key.

  Carlos said, “Mr. Worth, I need to have your—”

  “Carlos, I told you. It’s Robert or Roberto.”

  “Sí, Roberto, I need your parking pass.” Carlos looked ashamed asking for it.

  “Now? You kidding me?”

  “No, I am not. That is what they tell me to do.”

  Jack Pierce again. “Tell you what, Carlos. I won’t pay to park here. I’ll hand my pass to the attendant on my way out. That fucker wants my pass before that, tell him where I am.”

  “Roberto, por favor . . .”

  As the elevator door opened, he saw the look on Carlos’s face. Reporting Robert’s challenge to Jack would get him fired, too. Robert handed over his pass.

  “Gracias, Roberto, lo siento.”

  Robert nodded. Then he stepped into the elevator and rode it all the way down.

  CHAPTER 9

  Between sending out résumés, setting up meetings, and reconnecting with women he’d neglected, Robert fought his old habits. Like waking up before dawn, checking e-mails before his feet touched the floor, hitting the handball courts. Lying awake in the dark at 5:00 a.m., he faced long, dreary days living with the ugly truth: he’d been let go. Sent packing. He’d been fired. Shitcanned.

  On his daily runs and workouts, sometimes he calculated the value to the firm of his five years as an associate. He had grossed it around $3.5 million, took home roughly a quarter of th
at. At bonus time, he didn’t make waves because he wanted them to know he was a team player. So what if he made fewer dollars that year? Once he made partner, he’d pull down over three hundred thousand a year, minimum base salary.

  Robert didn’t return Philip’s single phone call. That was because Philip’s voice mail didn’t say that he had his job back, merely that Philip was so very sorry. Two weeks later, Philip actually hand-delivered Robert’s final paycheck. From his Ozone walk street, Robert watched Philip climb the wooden stairs to his apartment door. Watched him knock and wait for a minute or two, all of this without Robert approaching him.

  Fuck him, Robert said to himself, before riding away on his bike.

  His decision to ignore Philip had come easy because of the Los Angeles Times article that same week: Chase had been made a partner at Fanelli & Pierce. There he was: Chase’s photo in the Times: “Fanelli & Pierce is pleased to announce that Chase Fitzpatrick . . .”

  That was as far as Robert could read. That grinning no-load and those words slammed the door on any hope he had of returning to the firm.

  That prick, Chase. His hair was perfect, and Robert despised him. Chase didn’t do the work, made no sacrifice, worked on Jack’s paddle-tennis game down at the Venice Beach courts. More than that, he beat Robert at the game.

  A game. That’s all it was all along. Nothing but a goddamn game. Even so, he couldn’t help wondering which junior associate took his old office, the one closest to Philip. And Philip? Sure, Philip would always write him a great recommendation for prospective firms. Knowing that helped Robert’s confidence at first, when he began reaching out to LA firms he’d turned down five years ago.

  Turned out, those firms were eager to meet with him. Liked showing him around the offices in Century City, Westwood, or Hollywood. Liked telling him how great their firms were doing, especially over the last five years. Promising to call him back ASAP, then waiting two weeks to tell him, essentially, forget it. Meaning? You turned us down before, and that was a terrible call on your part, wasn’t it?