These Foolish Things
Page 2
She heard Hadley chuckle at that and again the sound made itself felt in her groin. “Bocce players?”
She nodded. “Yep. This season, we’ve hit two. Last year, we got three, a bicyclist and an old dog.” She glanced at him. “Not on purpose, of course.”
“Of course.” Their eyes met and Liz’s stomach did back flips. She refocused on home plate and Joe DiNardo at the bat, but it required a huge effort to block out the thought of Hadley.
Joey took the ball deep into center field and Liz was off and running. She had thought that Hadley would try to block the base path, but he was back in the outfield yelling, “Goddammit! Get me the ball!” Liz increased her speed, legging it with all her might for home. Sensing rather than seeing or hearing what was going on behind her, Liz closed on home and hit the dirt, sliding in while the ball whistled past where her head had just been and past an astonished (and inebriated) Barristers catcher. Liz scrambled out of the way so Joe could cross the plate. Unfortunately, the catcher found the ball and lobbed it to Hadley, who had run in to cover home when the ball got away from the catcher. Before returning to his post at short, Hadley watched Liz high five her teammates. His expression was unreadable.
“Yo! Ty! C’mon!” Hadley jogged back to short stop.
At the top of the ninth, the Gators held a two-run lead. Two outs, a man on second and Tyrone Hadley was up for the Barristers. Liz called a time out and a conference at the pitcher’s mound was underway.
“He’s gonna swing for the fences and run the bases like a Pamplona bull,” Liz stated. “The play’s gonna be at home and on Hadley.” The Gators nodded agreement.
Millie was offended. “You know, Gardner, I could strike him out.”
Liz just looked at her. “Wentworth, I’ve been catching you for 20 years. It’s late in the game and you’re giving up more hits than a porno web site. You’re out of gas.” The Gators agreed again.
Joey spoke up. “Okay, Rocco, you run in and back up Liz at home.” Rocco nodded. Liz looked at Joe scornfully, “Giuseppe, you insult me. NO backup.” Joe started to protest. Liz overrode him. “Listen to me, Hadley’s been playing full tilt all afternoon. He’s got to be as tired as we are. He’s been drinking and drinking hard all that time. And, do I need to remind you that I’m a girl and he seems to be a bit of a chauvinist? Joey, I can handle this. I don’t need to be rescued.”
Joe looked skeptical. Liz finished emphatically, “Believe me, he’s not getting past me.”
Joey capitulated, “Fine, Liz. It’s your ass.”
“And a very fine ass it is, Joe,” shot Liz in a fierce whisper. “Besides, Rocco wouldn’t hold the line. He’s too chicken.”
“Hey!” Rocco protested. Liz gave him a hard look. “Yeah, you’re right. Go get ‘im, Liz.”
Loudly, she said, “Let’s go, Gators!” and they returned to their positions.
As Liz hunkered down behind the plate, Hadley casually asked from just outside the batter’s box, “Got your strategy all set?”
Liz didn’t even glance at him. “Oh yeah. We decided to let you hit the spectator today.” A small group had wandered over from the bocce pitch and gathered behind the third base line. Liz shook her head. These guys never learned. Hadley chuckled and again, the sound went through Liz, making her wonder how Hadley’s kisses were. She shook off the intruding thought, muttering, “Like I’ll ever find out.”
“What?” Hadley had overheard the mutter.
“Nothing.” That was close.
Millie wound up and the first pitch was a ball. Hadley got a piece of the second pitch and fouled it off behind third base, narrowly missing the bocce players. They responded with a chorus of Italian and Anglo-Saxon obscenities. Hadley smiled to himself, waved an apology to the old men and chuckled again.
On the next pitch, Hadley really got hold and hit a well-placed shot into deep left. Liz ripped her catcher’s mask off and moved out for the ball to come in. The first runner scored and Hadley was running for all he was worth. The ball got to the cutoff at second just as Hadley rounded third. Rocco hurled the ball at Liz as Hadley began his charge towards home. A heartbeat after Liz caught the ball, Tyrone Hadley crashed into Elizabeth Gardner, sending them both to the ground in a heap.
Something deep in the pit of Liz’s stomach gave a lurch as she felt his legs tangled in hers. His arms were on either side of her and his forehead resting against her face where it had hit. She stifled the impulse to rub her face against him and wrap her arms around his body.
After a brief pause, Hadley rolled off Liz, looking at her and asking, “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Just doing my job.”
Through her pain, Liz noticed his hand was touching her face, gently examining the spot where he’d hit, under where her right eye was swelling shut. His face was near hers, too, eyes anxious and searching. What the hell, thought Liz, who quickly sneaked a kiss before holding up the ball in triumph.
“OUT!”
She didn’t dare look at Hadley, gingerly touch the left side of her chest and squeezing her eyes shut. She could hear running feet and a chorus of “Omigod! Liz! Are you okay?” “Hadley, you son of a bitch! What the hell were you thinking?”
From the bocce pitch, she could hear some of the old men yelling, “What are you thinking? You hit that little girl! Maybe I come over there and hit you, you son of a bitch!”
Liz never really remembered the rest of the evening. There was the trophy presentation and the usual post-game social hour at a nearby bar. The Gators kept congratulating her and buying her drinks, but her mind wasn’t really with the party. The Barristers joined the Gators and even congratulated Liz on her play and tenacity. She held a makeshift ice pack to her right eye the whole time, smiling and nodding at the people talking to her. Her one open eye kept going to Hadley, who was always in the background. He, too, was drinking, chatting, the Silicone Queen hovering at his side, holding his arm.
It seemed that every time Liz looked at him, he was looking intently back at her. At one point, he sent over a beer to her, raised his glass of Scotch to her in a salute, smiling and nodding. Liz returned the gesture and they drank. The Silicone Queen looked daggers at Liz, then turned to Hadley, trying to pout prettily. For all the attention Hadley had paid to her before the game, he seemed completely unaware of her now.
When she got to her darkened and quiet home that night, Liz thought of her friends, all paired off and having someone with whom to share this triumph. Not Liz. She grabbed a plastic bag from the cupboard and filled it with ice. As she sat with the pack on her face, Liz wondered if she had just imagined it or if Tyrone Hadley had kissed her back.
Chapter 2
“So, Attorney Gardner, you were willing to take one for the team. For risking life and limb for the glory of this law firm, I am grateful,” Dan Dennis remarked from his perch on the corner of Liz’s desk.
She looked at him out of her one good eye. “I think that’s overstating things a bit, Dan. We got your damned trophy for you so we don’t have to listen to you bitch and whine until next season.” Liz went back to the papers on her desk. Her eye was throbbing to a ragtime beat. It wasn’t as bad as it had been over the weekend, but it hurt like hell and was still swollen shut.
“You know, Dan, one would think that as a lifelong Red Sox fan, you’d have learned by now to handle disappointment with a little more grace and fortitude. However, we won and with only minor casualties.” Liz leaned back in her chair.
“What do you want, Dan?”
Dan looked at her with mock innocence. “What makes you think I want something other than the opportunity to express my gratitude?”
“The named partners of a law firm do not drop in on associates for a social chat – it cuts too far into billable hours. Plus, my course of dealings with you leads me to believe that you’ve come here to hit me up for something especially big, probably difficult and conflicting with a potential golf game for you.” Liz continued to gaze at him. “Am
I right?”
Dan didn’t even bother to look discomfited. He just continued to sit on her desk and grin.
“Elizabeth, you are remarkably astute and perceptive…”
Liz cut him off. “What do you want, Dan?”
“The Randazzo case.”
Liz suddenly got a bad feeling. “What about it? I drafted the pleadings and the memos.” She glanced at a calendar on her desk. “You’re just scheduled to argue summary judgment today at 10:30… oh, no. No, Dan. You can’t be serious.”
“Liz, you know this case inside out. You’re the one who came up with the arguments and case law. You can do this in your sleep.” Dan had an insincere smile plastered on his face. “Besides, I’m supposed to be playing golf with two of the Bruins at that time. You wouldn’t want me to miss an opportunity to sign a couple of great clients like that, would you?”
Liz put her hand over her bad eye. It was hurting even worse. “Dan, I don’t care if you’re playing with the Budweiser Clydesdales. You know how I feel about going into court. Get someone else or do it yourself. I’m not prepared.”
Dan was smooth. “Sure you are. Like I said, you wrote all the memos and pleadings and they’re great, Liz, really fantastic. Very tightly argued. Liz, you know this case better than I do. You’re the man.” Liz looked at him sharply. “Okay, you’re the woman.”
“You want me to go into a courtroom looking like this?” Liz pointed to her eye.
“Might be good for sympathy points.” Dan was still grinning. Liz could have rammed her knee into his private parts, probably with the encouragement and cheering of Dan’s long-suffering wife and any other woman who had ever met him.
Liz looked at her calendar again. “You’re just trying to avoid Judge McCafferty, aren’t you?”
Dan scowled. Bingo, thought Liz.
“He hates me,” said Dan. “The man is a lunatic. F.L. McCafferty. Stands for “Fucking Loon” if you ask me. I can’t set foot in his courtroom without getting some kind of bullshit contempt citation.”
“Maybe that has something to do with you trying to hit on his daughter-in-law in front of him and his son a couple of years ago, Dan.” Dan Dennis was a dedicated skirt chaser.
Dan’s scowl deepened even more. “Yeah, well, I get sick of hearing ‘Did you bring your toothbrush, Counselor?’ every time I open my mouth. You go argue the motion.”
Liz sighed. “Is that an order?”
“If it’ll get you to do it, yeah.” Dan unseated himself from Liz’s desk and practiced chip shots with an imaginary golf club.
She shrugged. “Who am I arguing against?”
Dan shielded his eyes to watch an imaginary tee shot bounce a non-existent 250 yards straight down an 18th fairway at Augusta that was only in Dan’s mind, along with a politely enthusiastic gallery and an imaginary Tiger Woods clapping him on the back. Liz wondered for a split second if she could get him committed.
“Tyrone Hadley.” Dan eventually answered.
Liz was on her feet. “What? No way!”
Dan looked at her curiously. “What’s the problem?”
Liz pointed to her shiner, its impressive swelling and extensive range of colors. “Who do you think did this to me, Dan? It wasn’t the Easter Bunny.” Not to mention, she didn’t want to make her maiden argument in front of a notoriously picky judge. This was a nightmare. She hoped. All she needed was to look down and see herself naked and she could take comfort in knowing that she was just dreaming. Liz looked down.
She was fully clothed. Dammit.
Dan putted out on an invisible 18th green. Liz wanted to wrap the imaginary graphite shaft around his neck. Apparently, he sank it, because Dan looked up, smiling.
“Okay, so you beat him in a softball game on a very close call at home. What’s the big deal? I mean it’s not like you’ve slept with him and he never called you.” Dan looked at her curiously. “Have you?”
Liz closed her eye. “No, Dan, I haven’t slept with him.” Dan shrugged. “Didn’t think so. You’re not his type.” He frowned and looked hard at her. “Come to think of it, whose type ARE you? I never see you with anyone.”
Liz cut him off, “You know, this is the kind of conversation that’ll get me hundreds of thousands of dollars in a harassment suit.” His words stung. “Besides, you’ve got me working too many hours for a social life.”
Dan headed for the door. “Whatever. Go argue the motion. If White offers settlement, refuse. Frankly, I think they’re both idiots, but as long as Randazzo’s checks don’t bounce, I don’t give a damn. Oh and one more thing,” Dan paused before he actually exited. “Make sure you remind Hadley he lost a bet to me on the game. He owes me $1,500. Get it.” With that, Dan closed the door and he was gone. Liz sank down into her seat and gingerly buried her head in her hands. She had to go to court. Wonderful. That was cause for main-lining antacids. She had to argue the Randazzo v. White case, which was basically a pissing contest between cousins-in-law. Bring on the aspirin. She had to do it with a black eye and no preparation. And, the frosting on the cake was that she was making her courtroom debut against Tyrone Hadley. If God was truly merciful, Liz reflected, He’d kill her right now.
She buzzed for Corey.
“Yes, Madam Cyclops?”
Liz scowled at the intercom. “Don’t start, Corey or I’ll hand you over to Dan as his new assistant. I need the Randazzo file in its entirety and I need it yesterday, along with a Notice of Appearance.”
There was a pause. “You’re serious.”
“I’m due in McCafferty’s courtroom at 10:30 AM and I’d like to be somewhat prepared. Move, Corey.”
Within minutes, Liz not only had the Randazzo file, but Millie and Corey. Corey wouldn’t have to be subjected to any torture greater than cutting up his Filene’s card to get him to spill his guts, so naturally he had stopped to tell Millie on his way to retrieve the file. Millie’s face registered astonishment.
“You’re actually going to court. For God’s sake, Liz, why?”
Liz looked at Millie. “I didn’t volunteer, if that’s what you’re thinking. Let’s look at this logically. Dan Dennis is the attorney of record. The presiding judge is F.L. McCafferty. I believe Dan’s contempt fines in front of Hizzoner are equal to Rhode Island’s annual budget. Dan claims he’s scheduled to play golf at The Country Club in Brookline with a couple of Bruins, although knowing him, it could be a guy in a bear suit and miniature golf at that dinosaur place in Saugus.” Liz smiled ruefully. “I must be stupid or a masochist because I keep working for the guy.”
She smiled bleakly. “Want to hear the kicker?”
Both Millie and Corey nodded.
“I have to make this argument against Tyrone Hadley.”
Corey clutched his chest and Millie clutched her head. “You’re kidding.” They looked at each other.
“The psychic was right,” Millie said, wide-eyed. “Oh, my God.”
“This is so cool,” whispered Corey. “Liz got swept off her feet by her dream man and now she’s going to see him again.” He snapped his fingers. “Now, Liz. THIS is your novel. This is a million seller, guaranteed.”
Liz shook her head impatiently, a move she regretted because it made her eye hurt even more. “That is such bullshit. It’s a coincidence, that’s all. Besides, he didn’t sweep me off my feet. He knocked me on my ass. There’s a difference.”
“What are you going to do, Liz?” asked Millie.
Liz opened the file. “Kick the two of you out so I can prepare and pray. After court, I plan to drink. Heavily.” The two took the hint and left. Liz buried herself in the file.
Close to the appointed hour, Liz paused outside the courtroom to which her case had been assigned. She’d done her best to focus on the case and the facts, but here she was outside a courtroom and shaking. The last courtroom exercise she’d had in law school, Liz had spent the half-hour before it in the ladies room, throwing up. She’d won her argument, but the stage fright never went away.
No such luck.
“Counselor.”
The voice. Masculine, deep and with a rough edge. A fleeting thought went through Liz’s mind: the only piece needed to complete this jigsaw puzzle of stress would be a fire breaking out in the courtroom.Liz turned toward the voice. He was standing on her blind side.
Elizabeth Gardner once again found herself face to face with Tyrone Hadley.
Instead of a baseball shirt, shorts and cleats, Liz found herself looking at a man clad in an expensive navy blue suit with a conservative silk tie. She wondered if his initials were monogrammed on the cuff of his shirt. Could be. His clothes fit him like they were all custom made, even the highly polished shoes. She felt shabby by comparison and the eye didn’t help matters. Liz unconsciously rubbed the toe of her right shoe against her left leg, trying to add shine to it.
“Counselor.” Liz returned the greeting.
“How’s the eye?” Hadley asked the question casually. He was leaning against the plaintiff’s table, arms crossed. Liz was aware that although the pose was relaxed, he was taking in everything. Including and especially her.
“It’s just a black eye. How are you?” It was then that she noticed a cut on Hadley’s lip and a faint bruise near his eye. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me.”
Hadley smiled tightly. “Two of your buddies escorted me outside the bar after the post-game and roughed me up. One was the guy you called Joey and I didn’t get the name of the other guy.”