by Dave Derin
This was going spectacularly.
I put my hands over my face as I slouched down, dropped my head against the back of the chair, and rested quietly.
“Um, are you Mr. John Stone?” A quiet voice rang out in the dead silence.
Startled, I sat up quickly and dropped my hands from my eyes. A young African American woman with an impressive halo of beautiful natural curls stood in the doorway.
“Oh, yes. Hello. Sorry, you’re a bit early,” I stood up and quickly hopped down the three steps to greet her. “I am John Stone. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Before we get started, I want to let you know that I just got the keys to this space this morning, and we’ll be renovating it very soon.”
The kinky-haired lady in her late 20s looked around admiringly. “I think it’s really pretty,” she responded after a brief pause. Her flawless mocha skin seemed to glow as she smiled and two dimples appeared on the sides of her heart-shaped face.
“You know what, I do, too,” I said with relief, then led her up the stairs to the table.
“There is a ton of potential here,” she said as she looked down “Oh, such nice floors. They’ll look fantastic when they’re cleaned up.”
“I agree,” I replied as I smiled at her.
“Oh, I’m Destinee, by the way,” she held out a slender hand, her nails painted a deep yellow hue that matched her sweater. I shook her hand gently while I surveyed her outfit. Destinee had a large pink tote bag slung across her shoulder. Retro, cat-eyed glasses in a bright teal color framed her almond shaped, exotic dark eyes. She wore an oversized marigold knit sweater that hung straight to her knees, under which white, pink, and blue polka dot tights covered her slim legs down to hot pink rain boots.
I glanced outside through the front windows. It was not raining.
“Nice to meet you, Destinee,” I said with a grin, and we both sat down. “Well, where should we begin?”
“Ok, well, like I said, I’m Destinee Mitchell,” she started, pulled a green file folder from her pink tote bag, and handed it to me without missing a beat. “I studied history for my undergrad at UT, then earned my paralegal certificate through Kaplan while I worked at the library downtown.”
“That’s great, Destinee,” I replied as I scanned through her transcripts and the letter of recommendation in the folder she’d handed me. Her former supervisor at the library had written a very complimentary letter, and the phrase encyclopedic memory stuck out to me. “So, why did you decide to pursue a paralegal career and leave the library?”
“Well,” she hesitated and shifted uneasily in her seat. “I always loved learning about law proceedings throughout my undergraduate history degree, but I didn’t necessarily want to try cases in open court. So, I figured being a paralegal was kind of similar,” she said with a small shrug, then glanced down into her open tote bag under the table.
“I get that,” I said with a nod.
“To be honest with you, the real reason I left the library was because I didn’t enjoy the work environment,” she continued as I watched her face contort into a small frown. “Not the library itself, though. I loved everything about the job. I just didn’t care for the commute to downtown and all the people.” She looked down at her tote bag again, then said in a hushed tone, “I don’t really like crowds.”
“Hey, not everyone does,” I said casually in an effort to alleviate her obvious discomfort. “The positive thing is, with this position you’d never really have to leave the office.”
“Really?” Her eyes lit up as she sat up a bit straighter in her chair.
“Yes, really. I’ll be going to court while my legal administrator covers the phones and takes care of business here,” I replied.
“That sounds amazing,” she answered incredulously.
“Well good, I’m glad that sounds appealing to you,” I replied with a smile.
“I can definitely handle the phones,” she nodded enthusiastically. “I also love being creative, digital design and all that stuff. I do web design, too, so since you’re just starting out I could help you get that set up also if you don’t have someone already on it.”
“Wow,” I responded with wide eyes when I realized I hadn’t even thought about an online presence yet. “Okay, so if hired, when would you be able to begin?”
“Immediately,” she responded quickly. “Oh, and I only live three blocks from here, so I can easily just walk to work. There is one thing though--”
“Sure, what is is?” I replied with a questioning glance.
“This might sound a little strange, but I have an ESA. It’s an emotional support animal that helps me with my social anxiety,” she said carefully as she stared at the yellowed plastic table in front of her.
“Oh, no problem at all,” I said with a wide smile. “I actually love dogs. It might be cool to have an office dog.”
She looked up from the table, met my eyes, and gave me a half smile, “Well, she’s not exactly a dog.”
“I’m fine with cats also, we can just put a litter box in the back,” I suggested. I honestly loved animals, so what she perceived as an issue was actually a fun idea to me. I’d never considered having an office pet, but this paralegal seemed almost too good to be true. We got along well, she wasn’t annoying, she had great references, and seemed like she had a good head on her shoulders.
“Well,” she sighed. “She’s not a cat either.”
I turned my head and looked at her curiously while I tried to think of other pets I’d seen trained to be service animals.
“She’s, ah, well, she’s a bearded dragon. A reptile. Her name is Athena,” the coffee complexioned young woman explained, then reached into her tote bag and pulled out a bright orange and yellow spiky lizard with a long narrow tail that narrowed toward the tip.
“Whoa,” I drew out the word as I leaned forward to get a better look.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Destinee cooed, then gently scratched the top of the lizard’s triangular pale yellow head. It closed its eyes and bobbed its head a few times as she giggled.
“An office bearded dragon, huh?” I leaned back in my chair and smiled. “So, where would you keep her?”
“Oh, well she has a carpeted tree perch I could bring in and place near my desk, wherever that’s going to be,” she explained as she looked around the barber shop intrigued. “She doesn’t really leave my shoulder, her travel bag, or her perch, so you don’t have to worry about her running loose around the office or anything.”
“Athena will be just fine here,” I answered after a brief second of thought.
“Oh, thank goodness,” she said as tears welled up in her eyes. “I’ve been interviewing for three weeks now, and as soon as they saw her, they all said I wouldn’t be a good fit.”
“Well, John Stone Law is different from other firms around here,” I said calmly. “All are welcome. No case is too small, no lizard is too big.”
She smiled broadly at me, then set Athena gently on her lap. We talked about ongoing interesting cases in Dallas, and she impressed me with her knowledge of current local events. We ended up sitting there chatting for over an hour, and when I finally glanced down at my phone I realized it was past time for my next interview.
“I hate to do this, but I’ve got to move on to my next appointment,” I told her grimly. “However, I’ll be making a decision tonight and will email you as soon as I know, okay?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Destinee responded with a grin, then gently placed Athena in the tote bag, carefully picked it up, and set it on her shoulder before she offered me her hand.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” I smiled and shook her small hand. I watched her bounce out of the front door, then sat back down in the uncomfortable wooden chair. She was going to be perfect.
My next appointment was obviously another no-show, as it was already fifteen minutes past their meeting time. I waited for another ten minutes before I folded up the card table and placed it back against the wall. I slid th
e two chairs back to their positions in the entrance area then stood with my arms crossed and surveyed my barber shop slash law office. A fast knock on the plywood front door made me jump.
I walked over to the windowed door and looked out. A tall, skinny white woman with long, stringy, dyed black hair stood outside of the door. She smacked her gum so loudly I could hear it through the door. The jittery woman was dressed in ragged, holey jeans that were three sizes too big and belted below her jutting hip bones. A pastel pink tee seemingly made for a baby doll barely covered her top half, and her collar bone stuck out above the rounded white neckline. Dark, baggy circles swelled under her beady black eyes that darted back and forth over the graffiti on the plywood. I opened the windowed door and poked my head out.
“Can I help you?” I asked the fidgeting lady.
“Yeah, you John Stoned?” she asked with a deep, scratchy voice. “I got an interview at one.”
“Well, ma’am, I am John Stone, but it’s well after one o’clock. I’m heading out now for lunch,” I said sternly.
“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” she screamed in my face. Her hot, rancid breath hit me and made my eyes water. “I got all the way over here and now you’re tellin’ me you’re not even gonna talk to me?”
I took one more look at her obviously drug-ridden, painfully thin body and highly inappropriate clothing. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” I stated firmly, closed the door, and locked the bolt. I heard her curse my name and yell incoherently as she walked away from the front door, then watched her strut across the road and approach a white vehicle parked on the side of the road. I saw the skeletal woman bend over and speak to someone through the window, then she hopped in the passenger seat and they sped away.
Great. I’d just turned away what appeared to be a prostitute. She must have lied on her application, otherwise that woman of the night had thrown her career away very quickly.
“It looks like Destinee is my destiny,” I joked to myself out loud and immediately regretted the cheesy dad joke, even though no one but me had heard it. It was almost 1:30 p.m., and my head had started to pound annoyingly. I needed to get some lunch. I left my briefcase and cardboard box of office decor on the counter, turned off the lights, headed through the back door, and locked it behind me.
My sleek black BMW sat alone in the gravel parking lot. I pulled my keys out and unlocked my car as I strode toward it. I slid into the smooth leather driver’s seat, then turned the ignition and drove the twenty minutes back to Stonesthrow. The parking garage was empty during the day with everyone toiling away at their offices, so I easily found a spot near the elevator. I made my way up to the fourteenth floor, unlocked my door, and headed straight to my bedroom where I removed my tie and suit and hung them back up in the closet. I tossed my button-down shirt in the hamper before I grabbed a pair of black gym shorts and slipped them on with my white tee.
I headed for the kitchen and made myself a ham sandwich on rye bread with spicy mustard, lettuce, and pickles, then grabbed a bag of barbeque chips from the pantry and walked toward the living room. I set the chips and sandwich plate on the coffee table, then picked up the remote and flipped on the local news. I wanted to get an update on Susanna even if it was filtered through the media. Unfortunately, they didn’t say a single word about her or the CUSA bombings.
“The high for today is a comfortable 84, with a low of 62,” the overly tanned weather man read from a teleprompter.
I took a bite of my sandwich and turned the television to the History channel. A documentary about World War II played on the screen, so I set the remote down and finished my lunch while I halfway paid attention to the show. I’d found a paralegal, so that was one more thing checked off my to-do list. I would email Destinee in a little while about the position and hoped she could start on the new website from home first thing in the morning.
I turned off the TV, then spent the next few minutes on the phone with my realtor who confirmed that everything had gone through successfully with the new office’s paperwork that morning. Now I could call Estelle and hire her to create a stunning new interior design for the decimated barber shop.
I picked up my phone, pulled up Estelle’s number, and pressed the little green button to place the call. It rang several times, then went to her voicemail, “You’ve reached Estelle, dah-ling, leave a message. Make it short.” I smiled at her exaggerated old Hollywood accent, then left a short message and told her I had an exciting new adventure for her. That was sure to snag her attention.
I grabbed my laptop from beneath the coffee table and drafted a formal email to the only candidate that was still interested in the position. “Thank you for your interest. The position has been filled,” I read over the email aloud to myself, then hit send. I opened a new email window and drafted a message to Destinee to offer her the position. I included my idea about her getting started on the website the next day, added a photo of the jade green color I wanted for the site design, then hit send. I set my phone on the table, picked up my empty plate and the bag of chips, and returned them to the kitchen.
By the time I got back to the couch, my new paralegal had already responded to my email. Talk about timely. She’d accepted the position and included two smiley-face emojis at the end. She also promised to begin the website design the next day.
The pieces had finally started to fall into place for John Stone Law.
Chapter 7
I went to bed early that night and felt well-rested the next morning when I rolled out of bed. I checked my phone and saw I had a missed call and voicemail from Estelle at 1:04 a.m. I grinned at the thought of the notorious night owl then listened to the diva’s message.
“John, dah-ling, it’s so good to hear from you. Will you be around tomorrow afternoon, let’s say around four? I’d love to get a look at this exciting new adventure you mentioned. Talk to you soon. Ciao.” She ended the voicemail with a kissing noise.
Estelle was one of my favorite people, but she certainly had a big personality. I opened the calendar on my phone and added Estelle’s appointment to the four o’clock slot. I’d call her back later to confirm because I knew she had probably only gone to bed an hour or so ago.
I padded to the kitchen, started the Keurig, and then hopped up to sit on the polished concrete counter while the coffee maker started to brew. I scrolled through my calendar and removed each old court date from the docket. I’d have to start filling it again soon, but I needed to focus on getting set up properly first.
The Keurig spat out the last drop of dark brown aromatic liquid, so I picked up the mug by its ceramic handle and walked toward the living room. I turned on the overhead light, sat down on the black leather couch, and turned on the television while I carefully sipped my coffee. I flipped to the news and inhaled sharply when I saw bright red hair flash across the screen. They were talking about Susanna’s case again. I leaned forward on the couch and set my coffee mug on the glass table.
“Charges have been filed against Austin-native Susanna Jenkins, who is being held at the North Tower Detention Facility,” the female newscaster relayed in a steady voice. “We do not yet have a court date, but rest assured this news station will be the first to bring you the latest updates on this case.”
I thought about my next move as I headed back to the kitchen, poured a bowl of cereal, and ate it over the sink quickly before I headed to the shower. After a quick wash I wrapped myself in a plush robe and tied the robe’s waistband loosely around my waist as I stepped into my expansive closet. I selected a dark gray suit, black shirt, and silver houndstooth tie, walked over and laid them on the four poster bed, then slipped out of my cozy robe and hung it back on its hook. I got dressed, then slid into my comfortable black Oxfords and laced them up. I’d need to get a new pair of black dress shoes soon if I continued to wear them every day.
It was almost 8 a.m., and I needed to run by an office supply store to buy some essentials before I headed to the office. I grabbed my laptop fro
m beneath the living room coffee table, then retrieved my black Tumi computer bag from behind the couch. I gently slid the laptop into it, then reached under the table to get the charger and shoved it in on top of it. I zipped up the thick case, picked it up by its black leather handles, and headed toward the front door.
I clicked the key fob to unlock my car as the elevator doors crept open, then strode across the concrete floor and slid into the front seat. The engine roared as I turned the key and headed toward the exit door. It was a dreary day, and rain drizzled down from dark gray clouds that completely covered the sky and blocked any sign of blue.
I left the Cedars south of Dallas, jumped on highway 345, and headed toward the OfficeMax near Belmont Park. The parking lot in front of the large white building was almost empty, and several letters in their sign had burned out so that it read OceMa. I parked close to the front of the building, locked the car door, and headed toward the automatic sliding glass doors. The blinding sterile interior was so bright I had to let my eyes adjust for a moment before I grabbed a red shopping cart and headed down the first aisle.
I grabbed a few packs of pens in blue, black, and red, a pack of multicolored highlighters, a few legal lined white pads, some sticky notes, two staplers with refills, and a case of copy paper, before I headed toward the printer section. I carefully reviewed the options, then chose an all-in-one option that could scan, copy, and print and placed it in my cart. I still needed to buy a computer for Destinee, but this wasn’t the place to find a good deal on those.
I meandered toward the check-out register and threw a bag of sour gummy worms in my cart as I pulled up to the counter. A pimply, skinny teenage boy stood in front of the register with a dazed expression.
“Did you find everything okay?” He asked monotonously as I began to unload my items and place them on the white countertop.
“I did, thank you,” I replied and continued to unload my cart as he started to scan the items and place them in a plastic bag.
