by Tiana Laveen
She swallowed and then stretched out her hand.
“Yes!”
The crowd erupted and cheered, an explosion of joy filling the air as Nixon slid the ring on her finger, stood, then caught her in a tight embrace that threatened to cut her breathing supply. But it never felt so good to lose oxygen. To die a little… be born a little. Fresh. New. Flashes of a camera ensued, and another man seemed to be taking video. Everyone around them was smiling and laughing, yelling out congratulations. Her facial muscles began to ache she was so overjoyed. How could she be calm right here, on cloud nine? She wrapped her arms around his neck as he swung her about, and they held onto each other as if their lives depended on it. As if they were their only hope for a better day.
“I love you, Nix! Oh my God… I had no idea! You hid this so well. I have no clue how you pulled this off!” she squealed, speaking close to his ear as he rocked her back and forth, delivering sweet kisses along the way.
“I know you don’t. That was part of the fun. I’m full of surprises. Got to keep my baby on her toes…”
The schedule was typically the same. Lames rarely changed up, never did shit out of the ordinary. They were followers. Sheep. Afraid to step to their own beat.
The same three wannabe hotshot dingleberries, with their stiff hair, too-tight boring jackets, and stick-up-their-ass walk would exit the office building’s front doors and go to a nearby eatery like little wind-up toys out for a day on the town. Nixon had watched them for months, at least once a week, when he’d wait for Yasmine to come join him so he could whisk her off to lunch. He never paid much attention to them until, well, he needed to pay attention to them. But he noticed things like that all the same.
The routines people stuck to. The company people kept. How they dressed. The way they smiled, frowned, moved, bullshitted the world. He glanced at the time in his car and smoked a cigar to the sounds of ‘Lucky You’ by Eminem, featuring Joyner Lucas. It was exactly 12:03 P.M. He and Yasmine had no plans to meet for lunch that day because she was in court, but he definitely had lunch plans. And he was ready to eat a motherfucker up, with all the trimmings. Camden and the other two men exited Yasmine’s office building with big, goofy smiles on their faces, and made their way over to BenjYehuda, a popular Mediterranean joint. Nixon patted his hair and made sure he looked perfect, not a strand out of place. Then, he cut off the engine, got out the car, and locked it.
He tossed his cigar on the ground and crushed it under his shoe, then buttoned up his black Bergdorf Goodman Brunello Cuccinelli coat, the smooth finish of the material exquisite under his touch. Just that morning, he’d had a whitening treatment at the dental office, too. He was ready for battle.
He stayed several steps behind the laughing hyenas, all of them bubbling with sophomoric joy, not a care in the fucking world. Minutes passed like ocean waves hitting one after the other, the seconds swallowed by invisible whales. Meanwhile, the skies threatened to summon the mailman’s promise: Arriving during rain, sleet, and snow.
He kept close enough to hear them, far enough to not cause alarm. At last, the men were inside the restaurant, ordering at the counter. Nixon had a plan, and a backup one should the first fail to fall into place as he wished. He’d had plenty of time to think this through, to work it out like his limbs during his pushups, weightlifting, or running on his elliptical like a horse on fire. When it was his turn, he placed an order, noting there weren’t too many places to sit. He decided upon a water and simple salad with hummus – nothing too time consuming or messy. Camden and his two pals headed towards a table, set their drinks down, and continued to yuck it up. Nixon tossed them a glance every now and again. After a short while, Camden stood and made his way to the bathroom.
Well, well, well. He’s on the move. I don’t have to coax him outside. Perfect. Plan B has commenced. Nixon took a gulp of his water, placed it and the salad down on a windowsill, and followed behind him. The bathroom was small, he was familiar with it, yet big enough for his purposes. Camden stood at a urinal, getting ready to drain to the main vein. Nixon positioned himself at the one next to it, pretending to get ready to urinate, too. Instead, he pulled his zipper down just an inch or so and glared at Camden. Camden threw him a brief glance, then turned away as if annoyed, and looked again once he realized Nixon was still staring.
“You shouldn’t stare at another guy when they’re tryin’ to take a piss. What’s wrong with you? Do you have a problem?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, are you deeply offended, motherfucker? That makes two of us, you gila-monster-looking son of a bitch. Put that little wiener away and let’s have a meeting.”
“Are you crazy?! From the way you’re dressed, you don’t want money. You just must be a nut. Get the hell out of my face, man.” Camden’s face flushed. Shaking his dick, he put it inside his briefs and zipped his pants back up.
“Yeah, I’ve got a problem, Camden.” The man’s eyes grew big. “That’s right… I’m not some nutjob. I know who the hell you are. Hey,” Nixon threw up his hands, “I’m gonna keep this short ’nd sweet because I don’t believe in dilly-dallying and wasting time. This isn’t a 1990’s music video. No long intro needed. Guess what your plans are today, buddy boy? You’re going to eat your fuckin’ lunch, then you’re gonna hightail it back to work and give Yasmine back the Spencer case.”
“Am I supposed to know you?! Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Nixon fuckin’ Rossellini the Great, and this is your unlucky day. I’m an attorney. A real one, something you’d know nothing about it. However, I know all about you. I know about the Braunston case that you fucked up, the one the firm you were at had to pay millions of dollars to make go away and not hit the press. I know all about the extortion claims and the shit you pulled at Latham and Meagher. I know about the indictments at Jenner and Towne. The things Yasmine brought up at the meeting regarding you? That was just a tiny bit of the arsenal, and you knew it. I have all the rest though, which I kept just in case we got to this point, and boy is it a mountain of bullshit. You’ve been a busy boy! A stupid boy but busy all the same. Now, we can do this your way, or the right way.”
“Are you… are you threatening me?! Do you realize I can walk right out this door, report you, and not only would you lose your job, you could serve jail time?!”
“A two-bit lawyer tellin’ a class-A lawyer how the law works. Now that’s hilarious.” Nixon chuckled. “Motherfucker, if you even think to open your mouth and even speak my name in mixed company, I will end you. The least of your problems will be Yasmine going to the State Bar tomorrow. I’ve got so much shit on you, you’d be up under the fuckin’ prison cell for the rest of your life.”
Nixon sneered. “Would you like some samples? Here we go! How about the sexual assault charges at Southern University? Now that was a real humdinger. Apparently, you like to finger drunk chicks that are passed out in bed. That school sucks, by the way, but I digress. You’ve got some problems with being a racist prick too, I hear. I’ve heard some interesting stories. How charming. With the way the country is right now, you can rest assured any racial slurs and injustice you’ve propagated will be another nail in your coffin. And just so we’re clear, I have all of that information, too. Even some text message transcripts! It pays to have friends in high places.”
Just then, someone walked in and entered a stall. They both looked at the closed door, then back at one another.
“That girl lied!” The man seethed, his eyes darkening. He looked downright furious. And afraid. “She dropped the charges and I don’t know what Yasmine told you, but she’s lying, too. She always tries to play the victim, pull the race card, so trust me, you can’t believe anything she says!”
“You don’t know what Yasmine told me, but she’s lying? Sounds convincing. No wonder you have to steal other people’s work.” Nixon rolled his eyes. “Listen buck, you don’t want to dance with me. It would be like a waltz with the Devil. I’m not Terrell. I don’t bend over and get fucked. I do t
he fucking. I’m also not classy like Yasmine. I’m not going to follow the rules and do everything aboveboard, all while wearing my red bottoms and giving speeches to the inner-city youth. No… that’s her bag… being a pillar to her community. But when it comes to taking care of this situation right here, that’s not how I operate.”
“What do you want?! Why are you doing this?!” The man sounded like a pussy. What a wuss…
“My reason for having this chat with you is simple. I don’t want Yasmine to have to go to the State Bar. If she does that, she’ll be taking herself down along with you. She knows that, but she has this crazy thing called honor and integrity. Me? Not so much. Anyway, we can’t have her do that. It leaves a smear on the record. No one talks about this, but if a lawyer goes rattin’ out another one though they’d take those justified charges seriously and more than likely rule in her favor, it could tarnish her reputation. And not only that, she could kiss her promotion and any other opportunity goodbye, after working so hard at her profession. Plus, she’s speaking up against a White man. Regardless of the fact you suck at your career, you still trump her. You know it… She knows it.
“But here’s the beauty.” He grinned. “I. TRUMP. YOU. I’m going to ensure she avoids that. Can’t have her being labeled a traitor, a troublemaker. You know how this shit works. Yasmine is scheduled to go to the Bar tomorrow. I suggest you make sure she doesn’t have to. I want your ass to slide that case back over to her as soon as you hit the damn door today, and then, before the end of the week, I want you to put in your letter of resignation. Do it in that order.”
“You’re crazy, I’m not doing that! You’re just as delusional as Yasmine, you know that? Wait a minute…” The man got a strange look in his eyes. “Are you fucking her?”
Just then, the man in the stall flushed the toilet and went to the sink to wash his hands. Nixon chuckled and shook his head.
“You’re not very sharp, are you? How did natural selection miss you?”
“Look, Nixon, this isn’t the Wild Wild West, okay? I’m not giving the case back. I have a right to it, as if this is any of your business, and I’m not resigning. I’m going to be made partner soon. Period. And as far as that racism bit, I really resent that! If anyone has been a victim of racism, its’s been me!” The man pointed at himself, his voice raised. The bathroom door swung open and slammed shut as the guy exited.
“Not too long ago,” the slimeball continued, “I was out with my friends at a bar and I was wearing a hoodie with the flag of England on it. I’m very much into my heritage and if that makes me racist,” he threw up his hands with a smirk, “then so be it. Anyway, this Black guy walks by, bumps me, knocks my drink outta my hands and tells me that my hoodie is racist, and I should take that stupid shit off. It turned into—”
Nixon grabbed him by the neck and squeezed the little shit to the point his hand felt frozen and stiff. The man’s face registered various shades of red with his air being completely cut off. He writhed about, turning darker… darker…
“Do you really have the fuckin’ audacity to stand here and think I give one flying-over-the-river-and-through-the-woods fuck about your Little Red Riding Hoodie story that no doubt involves tales of St. George, the far-right misuse of that flag with a little sprinkle of Brexiter thrown in for good measure? Well, guess what? Surprise! I don’t, motherfucker! Now, let’s hurry before you pass out. I have warned you, you weaselly son of a bitch… and I only give one warning. You can call my bluff if you want, but I fucking dare you.”
Nixon’s eyes narrowed on his prey as the man’s feet dangled off the floor. “Unlike yours, my record is impeccable. I keep to myself and only come out of my burrow when necessary… usually, to feed.”
He winked at him and slammed the bastard against the wall. Camden clawed at his throat, coughing and gasping for breath. Nixon scratched his eyebrow, allowing his coat to open ever so slightly.
Camden’s eyes immediately landed on the hot special – and what a beauty that prized revolver was.
“It’s simple. You do what the fuck I said, or there will be dire consequences. You’ll lose everything, not just this case and your job. I will tear you apart, one piece at a time, and throw you to the wolves. I know so many people who want a piece of you that I won’t even have to get my hands dirty… but I will. I love that part the most. Listen up! Stay in here for sixty seconds, then walk out. If you even whisper my name or this meeting to anyone, I will destroy you. And that’s a promise. Remember the old Japanese proverb, Camden? ‘Only lawyers and painters can turn white walls black.’ I’m sure, even in your obviously impaired mental capacity brought on by repeatedly bumping your head against that lawbook you couldn’t quite comprehend, that you can read between the lines and digest the double meaning of that. You’ve made the worst mistake this time, and there will be no appeal. This is it. Your one and only chance. You fucked with the wrong woman. My woman. Crawl away while you still can.”
Letting him go, Nixon turned and stormed out the bathroom. He glanced over at the windowsill where he’d left his food, grabbed it, and headed out the damn door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SWING, BATTA, SWING!
…Several hours later
“…Because I have too much on my plate right now,” Camden said.
Yasmine put on her coat, preparing to depart for the day if she could get rid of the fool standing in front of her. She was leaving early because the next day would be a big one. She’d be speaking with members of the Illinois State Bar.
But now she had to pause at Camden’s words. What did this joker just say?
“So, you mean to tell me that you expect me to believe that after weeks of going back and forth with you and Terrell, endless arguments, meetings scheduled then canceled, a disciplinary action filed that was tossed out like a piece of trash… you just up and decided to give me back the case?” She snorted. “You must think I’m Bozo the Clown. Don’t get it twisted though.” She waved a finger in indignation. “I will take the case, Camden, but I am still going to the State Bar.”
“That won’t be necessary.” He slid his hands in his pocket, standing by her office door and looking every bit guilty as charged. “I’m resigning, too. There’s no need.”
She stopped moving. “Resigning? How did this come about?”
“I said I have too much on my plate…”
“Does Terrell know about this?”
“Yes.”
They stood there, glaring at one another, and she hated him as much as ever. Funny how that feeling didn’t dissipate simply because her wish had come true.
“I did write a few notes down about the case that you may find helpful. I also included all the client meeting details that you weren’t privy to, as well as transcripts. Maybe you can use them, you know, if you want, but uh… I’ll have those files back to ya tonight. I’ll leave them on your desk since you appear to be leaving.”
He lingered a while, his presence uncomfortable, until he finally left and closed the door behind him. Yasmine tried to process what the hell had just happened. Her heart was beating faster than it should, and her body warmed, making her feel slightly lightheaded. She sat at her desk and fished her cell phone out of her bag, then called the first person who came to mind. Nixon.
“Hello. You’ve reached Nixon Rossellini. I can’t answer my fuckin’ phone right now unless it’s my sweet Yasmine, with the big juicy ass, but—”
“Stop playing with me!” She burst out laughing, totally taken aback by his impromptu joke. “Nixon, you won’t believe what just happened!”
“What? The FDA finally decided that cereal is nothing more than cold soup?”
“Nixon! Stop it!” She giggled. “Listen! Sham-den, better known as Camden, just walked his ass to my office and told me that he is not only handing me back the case, but resigning! Can you believe that?!”
“Wow, I guess he thought about the goods you had on him and reconsidered. I guess he isn’t as idiotic
as I pegged him to be. Well, great! Now you can cancel your appointment with the State Bar and get back to business.”
“Yeah, I guess I can… I still feel some kind of way about Terrell though, to be honest.”
“Why? Did he say something to you?”
“No, that’s exactly the thing. He hasn’t said anything about this. Camden said that he told him, though. I just don’t know if I feel comfortable working under him anymore.”
“Well, if you make partner, and I don’t see why you wouldn’t, then you can be equals and that won’t matter anymore, now will it?”
“Well, in celebration of the Devil’s spawn’s departure, would you like to come by tonight and have dinner with me, sexy fiancé of mine?” She smiled into the phone, her body relaxing at the prospect of a carnal treat.
“That sounds beautiful, but you know what, baby? It might be better if you come by my place instead. I’ve got a lot of work to do. You know that deadline I’m up against and there are some changes to review in connection with the Judo products I’m looking at so…”
“Oh yeah, that’s right.” She pouted. “Damn.”
“Don’t be upset because first of all, I will take you out this weekend to wherever you want to go, and secondly, tonight we can go to that place around the corner from me that you like and get a quick bite to eat.” Oh yeah, the sushi place… “I’ll pick up some champagne.”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll bring my ho-bag.” She cackled.
“A dirty whore is rarely unloved. See ya tonight.” He hung up the phone and she stood there, feeling suddenly buoyant. Just as she was switching off the light to leave, there was a tap at her door. She opened it to find Terrell there. She resisted the urge to slam it in his face.
“I’ve reviewed your schedule on Microsoft Teams. I would like to have breakfast with you tomorrow, at 7:30 A.M., here at the office, just the two of us to hash things out and put things to rest.”
