Deathbed Dimes

by Naomi Elana Zener

  “What the fu …” screamed Chip as he stood up and I swiftly returned both my notes and copy of the Chalmers file to my attaché. The chatter in the room came to a screeching halt. Shocked by the loss of composure, Skeet rose to his feet. Finally, with my notes back in hand, I had a captive audience in the bosses and clients. A double coup!

  “Oh, please excuse my clumsiness,” I said in my sweetest voice. “I was up all night preparing for today’s meeting and was so focused that I didn’t see the coffee sitting there.”

  “It’s ok, Ms. Zeller. These things happen, especially when you’re clearly focused on our client,” stammered Skeet, turning to the clients to do damage control. “As you can see, we are a 24-hour, full-service shop. Your case has our undivided attention.”

  The ruined suit had sufficiently distracted Chip, so I jumped on the opportunity to impress our clients.

  “I won’t lie. The facts of this case are complicated and likely will give rise to an argument against you, Ms. Chalmers, for undue influence,” I started.

  “Ms. Zeller is mistaken,” Chip said, interrupting me. “I have review ed your file thoroughly and she only got to take a look at it late last night as she was busy on another file, so her understanding of your legal position is superficial at best.”

  “With respect to my colleague, the facts do give rise to a presumption of undue inf—” I started.

  “Ms. Zeller, clearly you are not as familiar with the facts as Chip,” John interrupted me as I flushed red.

  “Chip knows the facts inside and out. We have a strict firm policy not to take on cases where the defendant has a strong likelihood of a claim of undue influence being made against them. We represent the victims of such heinous manipulation — not the perpetrators,” John said, flashing a greasy smile.

  “Well, I’ve known you for years, John, and your firm has always handled my realty developments with a shrewd, gentlemanly touch. I don’t doubt that you would ensure your clients are on the right side of the law,” Mr. Sumner said, swinging an arm around Mandy.

  “Listen, alls I know is that I was fulfilling my oath as a nurse and helped that lady in her dying days and she was sweet enough to want to help me with my student debt,” Mandy whimpered.

  Skeet leaned in to squeeze Mandy’s bare knee. “We know, sweetheart. An innocent girl like you is in no position to take advantage of anyone,” Skeet said, eyes resting on the line of cleavage peaking out of Mandy’s blouse.

  “Ms. Zeller, I think you owe our clients an apology for implying that they have done something improper or illegal,” Skeet said, stressing each word to patronize me.

  “I meant no disrespect. I was merely trying to introduce how I believe we can best address some of the more complex aspects of the will and be able to build a strong case in our clients favour. Please accept my most humble ap—” I said, choking on each bullshit word.

  “What I don’t understand is why are we being advised by the girl serving us coffee,” Mr. Sumner said, getting up to leave the boardroom.

  Chip quickly grabbed the main file from my hands, unaware that I had replaced my notes with blank paper. He and the partners rushed to escort our clients out.

  I was left standing in the conference room to clean up the mess of dirty napkins and untouched coffee mugs.

  “Honestly?” Coco asked skeptically while trying to read my voice.

  “Yes,” I said.

  I knew if I stuck to one-word answers, Coco, the queen of cross-examination, would not have enough rope with which to hang me. I would tell her the truth eventually, but in that moment I needed her on my side. Besides, I knew that while I had worked the Chalmers file, I would most likely not be conflicted off the case if I represented Esty. My knowledge was limited to the same information contained in the materials Chip had filed with the court.

  “Ok. On one condition,” she warned.

  “Shoot,” I replied.

  “I plan on suing my firm for constructive dismissal and our firm has to take on that matter,” Coco said, her voice hard and determined.

  “Sounds good to me. I imagine you’ll bring your existing clients too since they’ll want you to continue to represent them. With all of that, there will be plenty of cash coming in,” I said, imagining the way our firm could come together.

  “Done. I will be by tonight. Now I have to go resign,” she said.

  “You didn’t resign the second you hit the glass ceiling?” I asked.

  “Nope. I was going to, but instead I took your call. Talk to you later,” she said before hanging up the phone.

  Still standing on Robertson in front of the Ivy, I decided that I would celebrate my rebirth by treating myself to a few new pairs of shoes at Diavolina before calling Ethan with my good news. Nothing could ruin my high, not even fighting with Rihanna over a stunning pair of Nicholas Kirkwood platform wedges. A text from Armand killed my buzz. He was demanding my help on a film he was directing and producing. “I will not let Armand in. I am in my safe place. I am surrounded by my friends, Pierre Hardy, Costume National, Giuseppe Zanotti,” I chanted to myself. Unfortunately, the six pairs of shoes I bought did not settle my nerves. Armand’s message called for an emergency stop at Sprinkles on my way home.

  En route to Sprinkles, I called Ethan to tell him that I would not be interviewing at his firm in the Silicon Valley.

  “Hiya, Joely!” Ethan said. “So when are you coming to town? The partners are dying to meet you.”

  “Well, that’s why I’m calling. I need to cancel those interviews,” I said.

  “I don’t understand. We all agreed you were not giving up on law,” he said with confusion.

  “I’m not. Actually, I am starting my own firm with Coco. We are calling it Zeller-Hirohito. Mostly estates and some civil litigation,” I advised, “Funny though that your partners are ‘dying’ to meet me.” Ethan didn’t like my attempt to lighten things with a pun.

  “Are you fucking crazy? I always knew that you were a little certifiable given your family, but do you have any clue what you’re setting yourself up for? The failure rate for new law firms hovers somewhere around 45%! You are committing career suicide!” he barked.

  “Well, I’ll be in a good position to write my firm’s last will and testament then, won’t I?” I laughed at my own joke.

  “This is not funny, Joely. You are playing Russian roulette with Coco’s future, too. I cannot believe that she would be so irresponsible as to leave just before making partner,” he said, exasperated.

  “Well, here’s the thing about that. After she got caught screwing the managing partner, she was left facing a life on her knees as an income partner,” I advised.

  “Serves her right! Maybe poverty would’ve been a good experience for her,” he replied dryly.

  “Oh please! Coco is richer than God. While her family is all pristine over here in America, her paternal grandfather is Japan’s Hugh Hefner. Her trust fund is greater than the GDP of all African nations combined,” I said.

  “I just think that you are making a huge mistake. Why don’t you come here and interview, and if, after meeting with everyone, you still feel like you want to gamble with your life, go ahead,” he suggested.

  “Thanks for the concern, but I know that I am doing what is right for me. It’s the first time in many years that I feel in control and happy,” I said firmly.

  “Are you sure it’s not the lithium talking?” he asked.

  I hung up the phone.

  Ethan truly believed that I was in way over my head even with Coco’s help.

  When I spoke with Coco later that evening, I learned that, after speaking with me, Ethan marched into the managing partner’s office to tell him that I would not be interviewing with the firm and that he quit his job.

  “What do you mean Ethan quit?” I asked, furling my eyebrows at Coco.

  “Basically, Ethan said he went into his managing partner’s office and told him that he had to cancel their squash game because he was t
orpedoing his lucrative career to join you at a start-up firm in LA with no hope for success.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I shot back. “Your name is on the letterhead too. It’s just like Ethan not to trust you and me to succeed without him.”

  “No, more like typical Ethan seizing the opportunity of a lifetime to show the woman he has loved for fourteen years that they are meant to be together by helping her turn her career around.”

  “For the last time, Ethan is not in love with me,” I stammered.

  “You’re right. The schmuck is running here with his dick between his legs not to help you because he’s in love with you, but because he wants to take surfing lessons in Malibu,” Coco retorted. “At least his firm was kind enough to hold his partnership for him in case our firm fails.”

  The next morning, I received a text from Ethan instructing me to ensure that his name was also on the firm’s letterhead, since he was going to join our partnership.

  CHAPTER 9

  Ground Zero

  A few days later, with Coco by my side, I finally built up the nerve to inform Sylvia during a mid-morning yoga session that I would be opening up my own boutique law practice. She promptly took several Valium and retreated to her bedroom. Once she had finally calmed down, I was able to convince her that my return to practicing law and my move back into the pool house were not out of spite.

  “Listen, Mom. You should be happy. I am going to continue to live at home. Opening my own firm means that I have a vested interest in staying in LA! I won’t have office space for a few weeks, so I’ll be at home everyday working here,” I said. “I won’t be alone either. Coco and Ethan are joining me, so we’ll both be around to see you.”

  “But why do you even have to practice law? I’ve worked so hard so you don’t have to. Why won’t you just marry and have kids like every other normal child,” she whined.

  “But that’s just it. I’m not normal. You are a film star, Armand is a whoring, bad director and we live in Bel Air,” I said. “There is nothing normal about any of that.”

  “Well, it’s normal for LA,” Coco offered.

  “You’re not helping,” I said, shooting Coco a help-me look.

  “Listen, Sylvia. I will make sure that she keeps up with her food diary and updates her highlights on a regular basis. That alone will help her land a man,” Coco chuckled.

  “Oh, Coco, why couldn’t I have been your mother,” Sylvia moaned. “You understand me.”

  “She’s not married either,” I remarked.

  “No, but it’s not as important in her culture,” she replied matter-of-factly as she rolled up her yoga mat.

  “I will have you know that my mother wants nothing more than to marry me off to a nice Japanese boy, but I told her a long time ago that was not my American dream,” Coco called out after her. Uninterested in hearing any more of our legal plans, Sylvia left us to strategize.

  “Ok, so with Ethan on board we could do some corporate work,” I said, turning to Coco. “Then we would be a true full-service firm.”

  “I can easily cover most civil litigation matters, maybe some employment and I could help with the estates work. Ethan can handle all M&A and securities work, which will tide us over while we wait for our contingency fees to come through,” Coco thought aloud.

  “We’ll have plenty of clients in no time. My mother is already telling our relatives to see me for all matters. And you have the celebrity set and their offspring to mine for cases,” Coco advised.

  “I told some of the kids I went to high school with what I was doing, and they loved it. They figure that I understand the discretion required to handle their fights for their parents’ estates,” I said. “I may have a trust fund, but I like to work hard for my money.”

  “You’re sure going to have to, Donna Summer!” Ethan said, black wayfarers perched atop his head and a smile widening with each step. Dropping his laptop bag, Ethan pulled up a lounge chair to relax. In two days Ethan had managed to pack up his condo, find an apartment in LA, organize a mover to bring his belongings to LA, join a gym and find a new place to get his morning latte. He looked exhausted.

  “You got here quickly. I thought you wouldn’t be here for at least a week!” I exclaimed, happily jumping up from my chair to hug him.

  “He’s only here because he thinks we are going to fail. That and the fact that he cannot stand being left out of our plans,” Coco said, staying firmly planted in her chair.

  “Lovely to see you, too, Coco,” Ethan said, bending down to kiss the top of her head. “I was able to wrap everything up more quickly than I thought.”

  “Now that you are both here, we can get to the task of figuring out where we want our offices to be,” I said. Sylvia came out just in time to hear the comment and scoff loudly.

  “But you said that you were going to be working from home everyday!” she cried.

  “Mother, there is just not enough room here for the three of us plus the secretary and law clerk we need to hire. The pool house is still being fumigated and you are redecorating the guest house for the second time this year. And, because your home is your sanctuary, we would not dream of intruding and having clients come into the house,” I said, attempting to appeal to her rational side. “We’ll be here until we sign a lease.”

  “Fine,” she said, plopping down beside us as though she had been invited to our meeting before proceeding to file her nails. “But I will still make sure that the pool house is ready for you in case you change your mind. By the way, I’ve ordered in lunch from Mastro’s.”

  “So, tell me more about this big case you mentioned in your email,” Ethan asked.

  “Well, it’s really simple. Our new client, Esty Baxter, is the rightful heir of her aunt’s billion dollar estate — one that a client from my old firm is trying to steal,” I explained.

  “Wait a second, I asked you outright if you had worked on this case,” Coco said, temper flaring.

  “You asked me if the file came across my desk and I told you it didn’t,” I offered her a half-truth. Technically it never came across my desk. “I didn’t work on everything that came into the firm, and it’s not like I was the lead counsel on the matter.”

  “I’m watching you, Zeller,” Coco warned. “You can’t put this new firm in an ethical conflict before we’ve even opened our doors.”

  “Listen, if there is a conflict, I can always remove myself from the case and you two can represent Esty,” I said, brushing her off. “So then, let’s figure out what we should put in our employment ads for a secretary and clerk.”

  “Well, we would do well to have someone with over ten years of experience in civil and estates litigation—” Ethan started.

  “I know just the person!” Sylvia exclaimed, obviously excited to join our conversation. “An old actress friend of mine who never really made it! She’d be just perfect!”

  “While we appreciate that offer, we need someone with real legal experience,” Ethan barked, aggravated that he had been cut off.

  “Well, if you had let me finish, Mr. Berg, I could have told you that she has her paralegal license and has been working on and off at Reckford Mulling LLP for twenty years as a litigation clerk,” Sylvia said.

  “I would never have guessed that you knew anyone in law, Mom,” I said, pleasantly surprised.

  “Well, why do you think I never wanted you to be a lawyer? Janice would tell me how hard the lawyers had to work and how badly the female lawyers were treated, so I just didn’t want that for my little girl,” she said. “I’ll call her right away, so put a hold on hiring anyone!”

  “Sylvia, if she’s worked at Reckford, she is likely unaffordable for a start-up firm,” Coco advised.

  “Not to worry. She owes me a favour. I was able to get her starving screenwriter son a three-picture deal at Paramount, so she’ll do it. Besides, she doesn’t need the money; her grandfather was in the shmata business and left her a fortune,” she said, leaving to call Jan
ice.

  “What is her last name?” I called out.

  “Strauss,” she shouted from the kitchen.

  “As in Levi?” Ethan asked.

  “Is there another?” Sylvia said.

  “I still think we put our ad on Craigslist for both a secretary and law clerk just in case this turns out to be another one of my mother’s zany ideas,” I said.

  “What about another lawyer? It wouldn’t hurt if we had a fourth revenue source,” Coco suggested.

  “True, but we would not make them a partner. Who could we even get to join us as an associate?” I asked.

  “What about a first year?” Coco suggested, leaning back in her chair with a yawn.

  “Are you out of your mind? I was on the hiring committee in San Fran, and we were paying $165K to entitled Millennial grads straight out of law school before they were even called to the bar,” Ethan said. “These kids won’t work for a start-up for little money — they have BMW lease payments to keep up with.”

  “Then we need someone who is desperate for a very low-paying gig,” I said. “What can we even offer as a salary?”

  “I took a look at our credit line,” Coco said. “I’d say max fifty thousand to start — a figure we can always review after six months based on revenue and performance.”

  “Wouldn’t it be nice if we went to law school with someone who needs a job right now?” I joked.

  “Don’t joke. Remember Javier?” Ethan asked.

  Javier Ruiz had been in our graduating class at Stanford. Just after the ceremony his student visa expired, leaving him with crushing student debt and the threat of deportation to Costa Rica because he was never able to get a job in the US.

  “Where is he now?” I asked.

  “Good question. No clue,” Ethan replied. “Maybe Coco knows.”

  “Screw you, Ethan!” Coco retorted.

  “Well, you screwed him, so I figured you may have had tabs on your former booty call,” Ethan mused.