The
Lawyer
Copyrighted Material
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This work is for adult audiences.
Copyright © 2019 by Olivia Saxton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used to reproduce in any manner without the written permission of the author; except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Epilogue
Thank you
Other Works
Copyright
Chapter 1
Los Angeles, CA
1994
Robert Jameson had just come back from his jog when he told his wife that he wanted a divorce, like he had just said he wanted cereal for breakfast.
“What?” Trish asked.
“Please don’t make me repeat it. It was hard enough to say the first time,” he said as he sat down in the breakfast nook.
Patricia ‘Trish’ Truman Jameson’s mouth dropped open. Her hands trembled as she stood at the white kitchen island.
“It hasn’t been working for a while, now,” Robert said as he rubbed his chocolate bald head.
“It hasn’t? We just had sex last night. Believe me. There wasn’t any hint that you weren’t into it,” she blurted and placed her hands on her hips.
“There’s no need to be petulant. I meant mentally. We haven’t been connecting. We’ve grown apart.”
Trish kept her hands on her hips. “Who is she?”
He looked down at his tennis shoes.
She dropped her arms to her side and walked around the counter. She sat down with her husband. “We’ve been married for almost nine years. I think I deserve a better answer than, ‘we just grew apart.’”
Robert looked up at her. “You’re right. You do.” He took a deep breath. “There is someone else.”
“Who?”
“Trish-.”
“I deserve to know the name of the woman you are leaving me for. I’m not going to do anything to her. I just want to know.”
“Helen Daughtrey.” Her name dropped in the room like Robert just dropped a glass.
“Your patient?”
“My ex-patient, now. Soon to be fiancé.”
“She’s sixty years old!” Trish shouted.
“She’s fifty-five,” he corrected. “And she doesn’t look a day over forty-five.”
Trish’s dark brown eyes widened like a child who was just told her parents were getting a divorce. “I guess not thanks to your services.”
Robert was going to speak again, but Trish interrupted. “Let me get this straight. You’ve been having an affair with your…former patient - who is old enough to be your mother - and you’re leaving your wife for her. How long has this been going on?”
He mumbled something.
“I didn’t hear you, Robert.”
“About eighteen months,” he said with a sad look.
Trish jumped up from the breakfast nook. She didn’t know whether to be pissed or disgusted. “I…I don’t know what to say,” she said as she ran her hand through her long, dark hair.
“State your terms, and I’ll do my best to meet them.”
She just stared at him like he was an alien. “Is that it?”
“There’s really nothing more to say,” Robert said and stood up.
“It takes a while to process a divorce, Robert. What are we going to do until then?”
“You can stay here until I sell the house. I’m moving into Helen’s estate. I already got some clothes there. You can use the money we have left in the joint account. I opened a separate one last week.”
Shallow breaths escaped from Trish’s throat. “Well…it seems like you’ve thought of everything.”
Robert walked to the door that led to the garage. Turning around he added, “I have to say, you’re not as upset as I thought you’d be.”
Trish looked dead into her husband’s brown eyes. “If you can come in here after a morning jog and just throw the words ‘I want a divorce’ at me after all we’ve been through to get where we are-.” She stopped, exhaled, and then continued, “We’ve never had anything to begin with. Therefore, there’s nothing to get upset about,” she finished as she shook her head.
Robert turned and walked out the door that led to the garage.
Trish grabbed a glass of orange juice from the island and threw it at the door. The glass shattered as liquid dripped down the light yellow walls. She covered her mouth to conceal her anguished cries.
Chapter 2
Clary, PA
Six months later
Trish Truman sat in the back of a black minivan that was being driven by an old African-American man who, it turned out, was a real chatter bug. She patiently listened as he talked about his dead wife, his three sons, and his grandchildren for twenty minutes.
She sighed with relief as the driver pulled into the paved driveway. The Jacobs’ two-story red brick house hadn’t changed in twenty years.
“This looks like a nice neighborhood. I’ll try to get your bags,” he said, hinting that Trish had a lot of luggage.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you,” she said and got out of the van.
The driver pulled the latch to open the trunk and got out of the vehicle. As they walked to the back of the van, Darlene Jacobs jogged out of the front door. “There she is!” Darlene shouted as she ran to greet her childhood friend.
Darlene’s short, sunshine-blonde hair shimmered in the sunlight, and her blue eyes sparkled with excitement. The ladies embraced.
Darlene pulled back and looked at Trish as she flashed a big smile. “It’s going to be like old times.”
Trish chuckled. “Not necessarily. Instead of us having a sleepover in your room, I’ll be living in your basement.”
“Apartment,” she corrected. “Daddy had it done really nice. I helped, of course.”
“Oh, of course,” Trish said with a grin.
They walked to the back of the van with the driver.
“Holy cow,” Darlene said as she looked in the packed down van. “You must have brought everything.”
“I’m coming out here to live not visit. What I couldn’t take on the plane is in a storage unit in L.A.”
“We only have so much room, young lady,” James Jacobs said as he approached them.
“I know, sir,” Trish said with a smile.
“Is that a trunk?” Darlene asked.
“I got a hand truck in the garage. No way we are lifting that thing,” Mr. Jacobs said and moseyed towards the garage.
Trish laughed. “It’s good to be back.”
*******
Trish surveyed her new home. The basement apartment walls were beige, and the wood floors were a light brown. The living room was furnished with a sky blue couch with a love seat and recliner. The kitchenette had white appliances and beige cabinets, and the island was white with a sink. Four wood bar stools lined along the island. The wood burning fireplace had a slick gray finish. The basement apartment had a door that led to the backyard. Brown boxes were scattered around the room, filled with household items that Trish had sent ahead of her arrival.
“The bedroom and bathroom are back there.” Mr. Jacobs pointed with his left hand. “We took the liberty of unpacking the two TVs. The cable man came before you got here.”
“I also unpacked your towels and linens and washed them. I made the bed for you,” Darlene added.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”
“Before you get settled, we need to go over the house rules,” Mr. Jacobs said.
“Daddy,” Darlene said flatly.
“His house, his rules. Lay it on me, Mr. Jacobs,” Trish said as she took off her black fur-collared coat.
“No parties after midnight. No overnight guests of the opposite sex,” he began.
“Oh God,” Darlene moaned.
Trish chuckled. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. Anything else?”
“Trash runs on Thursdays. I think that’s it.”
“Yes, that’s it,” Darlene confirmed and rolled her eyes.
“Oh no, I forgot,” he said and reached into his pocket as he walked to Trish. He pulled out a black keychain that said, Jacobs Investments. “This is the key to the front door, and this is the key to your separate entrance,” he said and dropped them in Trish’s hand. “And one last thing.”
“And that is?” Trish said with a big smile.
Mr. Jacobs cupped both sides of Trish’s brown face and bent down to kiss her forehead. “Welcome home, sweetheart. I sure did miss that pretty smile of yours.”
“Awe,” Trish said.
Mr. Jacobs removed his hands from her face. “If I was born thirty years later…”
“Gross!” Darlene exclaimed.
Trish and Mr. Jacobs laughed. “Come on, Darlene. I haven’t gotten a sincere compliment from a real man in ages and probably won’t again. Let your father flatter me.”
Darlene just stared at them with disgust.
Mr. Jacobs eased down into the recliner. “I doubt that. Yeah, your marriage broke up, but you’re what, twenty-eight?”
“Twenty-seven, Daddy. Trish and I are the same age; we’re only a month apart.”
“That’s right. Anyway, you’re still young and beautiful. The men will come running in no time.”
“I hope not. I don’t think I can invest that much time and energy into a relationship again.”
“You say that now, but give yourself time,” Mr. Jacobs said as he leaned back.
“With that being said, how is the divorce coming along?” Darlene asked as she sat down on the couch.
“It’s not really. I don’t have an attorney. Robert’s lawyer sent legal separation papers months ago, but-.”
“Are you stalling on purpose?” Mr. Jacobs asked.
“No. I want it over with, but the attorneys in L.A. are so expensive. I have to be mindful of my budget. I’m hoping to find an attorney here who won’t cost too much.”
“What about David Shaw? I heard he was both reasonable and good,” Darlene said.
Trish looked at Darlene like she had recommended the devil. “No way. Are you nuts?”
“What’s wrong with him? I heard the same thing,” Mr. Jacobs said.
“He’s an ass,” Trish said and sat down next to Darlene, crossing her arms across her chest.
Mr. Jacobs face scrunched up with confusion.
“I know what this is about. Do you still hate his guts for that snake incident?” Darlene asked.
“Yes,” Trish replied with more than a hint of anger.
“What snake incident?” Mr. Jacobs asked.
“Oh, you remember, Daddy. It was the fourth of July. You and Mom hosted a BBQ in the backyard. Trish and I were lounging on a blanket when all of us heard David yell out. His foot went into the air along with something black and long.”
Trish was steaming. “It was a big black snake that he threw at me. It landed right in my lap.”
Mr. Jacobs slapped his knee and bellowed with laughter. “Gosh darnit, I remember now. Oooh, once you got that thing off you, you really went after that boy.” He stopped and shook his head. “I never seen a fourteen-year-old girl so mad in my life.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” Trish asked. “I was fourteen, and he was already in college. He was a tool then, and he’s probably a tool now.”
“It was an accident. He tried to explain that to your mother back then,” Darlene said.
“What do you mean?” Trish asked.
“Let me tell this part,” Mr. Jacobs said. “After your daddy pulled you off that poor boy, your mother got in his face. Waging her finger and all, and he blubbered how he felt something crawling on his foot, and he looked down, and it was a snake. He was so shocked he just kicked the snake away from him. He didn’t mean for it to land on you.”
“If that was the case, why was he laughing?” Trish asked.
“Hell, we were all laughing as I recall, except your mother,” Mr. Jacobs said. “I think.”
“I wasn’t laughing, and David wasn’t laughing anymore when you caught up to him,” Darlene said. “Didn’t you ask Mr. Truman to beat him up?”
“Yes, and he wouldn’t do it. Dad said I hit and pulled everything on David that wasn’t nailed down, and Mom was reading him the riot act; he didn’t think David deserved any more punishment. He also said it was over now and to calm down.”
“Yeah, but I bet he gave you a big hug afterwards,” Darlene said.
Trish gave a weak smile. “Yeah, but I never forgave David or bought that bull story about it being an accident. Why did he kick it my way? I tell you why. It was because he wanted it to land on me.”
Mr. Jacobs scoffed. “I believed the boy. He never caused any trouble before or since that I know of.”
Trish shook her head. “I disagree, and the last thing I want is for him to be involved in my personal business.”
Chapter 3
Thirty-one-year-old David Shaw walked around the dilapidated interior of his office wondering what went wrong with his life. He had landed a job straight out of law school with Lakedale Associates in New York. Heather, his now ex-fiancé, there by his side until that fateful day he walked in on her having sex with his boss.
He resigned before he was fired for punching one of the partners in the face. He stopped pacing to look out the dirty window as he clenched and unclenched his chiseled jaw. A tapping at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Come in,” he said.
Mrs. Hinkle, his sixty-five-year-old secretary, opened the door. “Mr. Shaw, your two o’clock is here.”
“Good, send her in,” he said. He stood waiting for Darlene to come in. She wouldn’t tell Mrs. Hinkle why she had made the appointment. He figured it was an extremely confidential matter.
“Hi, David,” Darlene cheerfully greeted.
“Hi. It’s good to see you,” he said and took Darlene’s hand. “What can I do for you?”
Darlene shyly shifted her head to the side. “Well, it’s not for me – more for a friend of mine.” Darlene looked back p
ast the door that Mrs. Hinkle was holding open. “You may as well come in.”
Trish slowly stepped into the room. Her lips were pressed together like she had just swallowed a lemon, her hair was pulled back in a bun, and her makeup was flawless. Trish’s leather coat was open, revealing a tight red turtleneck and a black skirt that hugged everything below her waist. The black leather from her boots stopped under her knees.
Tension struck his body at the sight of her. David wasn’t sure if it was from arousal or annoyance. He fought the urge to roll his eyes, and his upper lip turned up to his nostrils. “Darlene, why did you bring this prizefighter with you?”
“Pardon me?” Trish asked.
David ignored Trish’s response and looked at Darlene. “Darlene, I thought this appointment was for you, but I can see that is not the case. Whatever trouble Trish has gotten herself into, I’m not getting involved.” He walked away from Darlene to sit down behind his desk.
“That’s it,” Trish said through gritted teeth.
“Trish, wait,” Darlene begged as Trish made her way to David’s desk.
Trish looked dead into his smoldering dark eyes. “Considering that your reception area looks like the entrance of a crack house, the windows are so filthy dirty that you may as well paint over them, and the paint on your desk is chipping onto your stained carpet, I would think you would take all the clients you could get.”
David opened his mouth to speak, but Trish interrupted him. “Also, I do not appreciate being judged by an obviously struggling lawyer, when I let my friend convince me to give you a chance at making some real money.”
David opened his mouth again, but was interrupted - again. “However, I don’t want to continue insulting your precious ego with my presence. I’m sure I can find another attorney in Clary that I can do business with.”
David shot up from his chair, his five-foot-nine frame casting a shadow over Trish’s face.
“Are you done?” he asked in a deep voice.
Mrs. Hinkle continued to stand at the door with her mouth open. Darlene waited with baited breath.
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