Deathbed Dimes

by Naomi Elana Zener

  “I don’t think so,” I retorted. “You hid the file from me. In fact, it was in the presence of the partners that you discovered the file in your locked cabinet after accusing me of stealing something that was never in my possession to begin with. Want to see what’s behind door number two?”

  “Whatever, Joely. You may think you are so smart, but I’m still going to put it on record that you were familiar with the facts of this case from your days at Mavis,” he warned.

  “Record everything you’d like. I can assure you that my only knowledge of this case comes from reading your filed materials,” I said sharply. “You can tell the judge whatever you want, but at the end of the day you have to face off against me in court.”

  “Oh, by the way, we are not even contesting the venue change,” Chip informed me abruptly.

  “That’s great. Nice to see you can admit defeat so quickly,” I said.

  “Don’t you want to know why?” he asked

  “Not really, but if you feel the need to play show and tell, by all means, you have the floor,” I said.

  “Mandy lives in LA now. So will I for that matter — as soon as I find a place to live. I’ve been tasked by the partners to open an LA satellite office. So before you think that you will be cornering the estates market, think again,” he said smugly.

  “Need a realtor? You called the wrong person,” I retorted. “By all means, welcome to Hollywood, but know you are on my home turf. You ain’t in Kansas anymore, Toto.”

  “I want my Rolodex back!” Chip cried.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. See you in court,” I said, slamming down the phone.

  Although the notion of Chip establishing a rival practice was fairly non-threatening given his lack of legal ability, having a three thousand mile buffer between us had given me greater assurances that he could no longer mess with my life. Regardless of Chip’s proximity to me, this move was slightly good news for my client, seeing as how there would be no risk of venue challenge. I quickly sent an email to Ethan and Coco advising them of the development.

  Suddenly the intercom on my phone buzzed.

  “Excuse me, Joely, but there is a young lady here to see you,” Trevor informed me from reception.

  “Is she a client?” I asked.

  “She’s here about the associate attorney position,” he whispered. Discretion did not seem to be one of Trevor’s strong suits considering this mystery woman was standing right behind him.

  “It’s been filled,” I said.

  “I told her that, but she still wants to speak to you,” he pleaded.

  “Fine. Send her into the conference room,” I said before glancing over at the Rolodex on my desk. “One more thing. I’m going to give you a Rolodex to send anonymously to Chester Hancock at Mavis, McLeish, Meinsdorf and Mooring LLP. Just make sure that there is nothing to trace the package back to me or this firm.”

  I walked out of my office and knocked on Coco’s door.

  “Come in,” Coco answered. I opened the door pleased to find Coco hard at work on a file, but disappointed to see that the floor had been carpet-bombed by Lucky.

  “Coco, the dog needs to go. This is just nasty,” I said, scanning the shit-stained carpet.

  “I know, I know,” she replied. “I am trying to find him a doggy-sitter service. I promise he will never come to work with his executrix again.”

  “Great. Did you happen to remove the ads on Craigslist for the associate attorney and clerk positions?”

  “Shit, I knew I forgot to take the clerk posting down,” she replied.

  “The associate one, too,” I said. “We have a woman in the conference room here to apply for a job that has been filled.”

  “Let’s meet her,” Coco said excitedly.

  “I don’t think so. Does the name Javier ring a bell?” I asked rhetorically.

  “I thought that maybe he may not work out,” she advised.

  “And what gave you that idea? Was it the way he set up our filing system, filed all of your motion records at court, deposed two witnesses on one of your files, drafted a share purchase agreement for Ethan and has been doing all of my legal research for the Chalmers file, while managing to take your dog out three times a day in the past 48 hours since he started working here?” I asked her angrily. “Or maybe it was how he single-handedly advertised our firm to almost every legal and illegal Spanish-speaking resident in LA and set up the photocopier. Coco, what more proof do you need that he’s working out?”

  “Fine. So he’s your dream hire. I’ll take down the ad,” she said, annoyed.

  “Are you going to take care of this applicant since you’re our one-woman hiring committee?” I asked.

  “No, but I will meet her. You never know, we could end up needing more help around here,” she said, walking toward the door careful not to step foot on one of the many Lucky land mines.

  We entered the boardroom to find a young, slender, half-Caucasian, half-Indian woman named Tanya Mansour, likely in her late twenties, dressed in a cheap H&M knock-off of a Gucci suit. “Good day, ladies. I am here for the associate attorney position,” Tanya said.

  “Hi, Tanya,” I said. “While it is lovely to meet you, unfortunately the associate position has been filled.”

  “I understand. That is what your delightful receptionist advised as well. I graduated magna cum laude from UCLA Law and have three years of work experience. However, given the current economic climate, I’m between jobs at the moment. I lost my job at legal aid downtown because their funding was cut,” she said.

  “I am really sorry to hear that,” Coco falsely sympathized. “Joely, couldn’t we find something for her?”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that, but sadly there is no opening here,” I said.

  “What about the clerkship position? I’ll take anything,” Tanya pleaded. “I need to regroup to figure out what I want anyway, so I don’t need to necessarily have the stress of a full-time attorney position.”

  “That, too, is filled. Besides, we are a start-up firm so we need people who are committed to working here,” I advised, standing up to leave. I could sense that Tanya was looking more for her ‘Mrs.’ designation than for a job.

  “Come on, Joely. Where is your sense of sisterhood?” Coco asked, pushing my buttons.

  Knowing how quickly Coco would pounce all over a whiny woman whose first and foremost priority in going to law school was to score a husband with greater income earning potential than settling for her undergrad boyfriend, I had to expose Tanya for what she was.

  “Tanya, please tell me why you’re really interested in working in a position that is beneath your education level?” I asked, staring her down. “Clearly, you have practical legal experience and a great education.”

  “I know this will sound awful, but I am 28 years old and while I still want to practice law, I also want to get married. Working as a clerk, which I would be very committed to doing, would give me time to find a husband,” she admitted. “I am happy to even work part-time.”

  “We offer a job, honey, not holy matrimony. Our main practice consists of estates work. Dead people. Bitter, greedy people fighting over other people’s money. Although with death comes the prospect of a widower ready to remarry, your groom prospect pool may be better at a family law firm,” Coco advised.

  “Listen, I’m desperate to take anything. I need to pay my rent, and I want to find my own husband. My parents kicked me out when I refused their arranged marriage and enrolled in law school. So, please. I’ll do anything,” Tanya pleaded.

  Recognizing some similarities between Tanya’s familial struggles and my own with Sylvia, I felt her pleas tug at my heartstrings.

  “I suppose that we could hire you on a part-time basis to perform legal research and file documents at court,” I offered, then turned to Coco. “With Javier becoming busier with actual file work, we could use someone else to assist us.”

  “I guess you’ll balance out the estrogen
in our favour,” Coco admitted.

  “Great. Why don’t you come in 8:30 a.m. next Thursday morning to give us time to set up on our end,” I said, standing up to show Tanya out.

  “This is so gracious of you!” she exclaimed. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

  “See you next week,” I said. Tanya left Coco and me standing alone in the reception area.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Joely, otherwise your little investment will soon be a huge loss,” Coco advised.

  “Listen, if Tanya is a flake, then we fire her. What is twenty bucks an hour for twenty or so hours of work a week? This way, she opens up our firm to the East Indian community in LA and we won’t be pandering to one clientele all of the time,” I advised.

  “I thought we were going to be the estates practice for the Latino-American community given all of Javier’s hard work to advertise our services to them,” she replied sarcastically.

  “With Chip opening up an office here, it won’t hurt us to expand our horizons. I doubt very much that white chocolate Chip is going to mix in the various LA ethnic communities to hustle business,” I said, ignoring her dig at Javier.

  “Well, aren’t you sensitive,” Coco said.

  “I don’t think you can complain that our firm has a lack of ethnic diversity,” I retorted.

  “I’m sure Ethan will be none-too-pleased that you hired someone without his approval,” she replied.

  “Majority rules, right?” I said. “Besides, I’ll just blame you since you failed to remove the posting in an effort to get rid of Javier.”

  “Blackmail. I like it. Very shrewd move, Zeller,” Coco said. “That’s fine, but you’ll be singing a different tune when little miss matrimony is wrapping herself around Ethan or Javier in the hopes of scoring a hubby.”

  “Maybe she’ll change her tune,” I offered.

  “You’re deluded. She’ll sink her teeth into Ethan or Jav the first second she can. Speaking of Jav and Ethan, it looks like they’ve already left for the day. Want to go to Chateau Marmont for some drinks?” she asked.

  “Only if you’re buying,” I replied.

  Leaving for happy hour, I suddenly remembered that I had promised to have dinner with Ethan. In a feeble attempt to avoid completely standing him up, I texted Ethan to let him know that something came up. I promised we would reschedule for the following Monday night.

  CHAPTER 13

  Sodium Pentothal, Alcohol is Thy Name

  It was a little after one in the morning when I returned to the pool house. After being given the all-clear by pest control and Sylvia, I had moved out of my old bedroom back to my makeshift condo.

  Very drunk and seeing double, I was startled by the presence of a shadowy figure. Fearing that someone had gotten past house security, I let out a slurred scream. Before anyone could hear my panicked cries, a hand muffled my mouth.

  “Shhh, Joely,” the voice whispered. “It’s me, Ethan.”

  “Why didn’t you say so,” I slurred. “I was about to crab maggot your ass.”

  “I think you mean Krav Maga?” he laughed.

  “That’s what I said. What are you doing here?” I asked.

  “When I was left sitting at Il Sole, all by my lonesome, after being blown off by you with little explanation and no reply to my multiple texts, I got worried,” he explained.

  “I am soooo sorry,” I said, stumbling all over him. “I needed to blow off steam because of Chip and his bullshit.”

  “Easy there, tiger,” he said, sweeping me up into his arms. “I think that I’d better get you inside.”

  I fumbled with my keys. Ethan took them from me, opened the door and carried me over to the living room sofa in one fluid motion.

  “Hey, how ‘bout that drink now?” I asked.

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” he asked.

  “Nope. Besides, the cure for a hangover is the hair of the dog,” I replied firmly.

  “That only works if it’s the next day and you are still in college and young enough to believe that crap,” he said.

  “Do you always have to be so serious,” I said, making serious facial expressions mocking him.

  “Fine,” he said, opening a bottle of wine that was sitting on the kitchenette counter. “So what do you make of Lucky? A bit of a distraction for Coco, no?”

  “Lucky, lucky, lucky,” I sang, “you know who is not lucky? Me!”

  “Why not?” he chuckled, handing me a glass of wine and sitting down next to me.

  “I fall for the gay guys, married guys …” I complained.

  “There were only one of each for the record,” Ethan reminded me, “and the gay one was probably a reaction to the married one.”

  “How do you figure?” I asked probingly.

  “Well, you made a bad choice with Blake, and you probably ignored the signs about Yan, figuring he wouldn’t break your heart because, deep down, you knew you couldn’t fall in love with a guy who preferred dicks to chicks,” he said knowingly.

  “Wow, if only my therapist was as good as you,” I said. “Maybe then I wouldn’t write stupid emails about needing closure.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked. “You’re completely incoherent. You emailed Yan?”

  Being just a smidge sober enough to realize that I was nearing a reference to Blake’s earlier email, I took a huge swig of wine.

  “Nothing. It’s nothing,” I slurred.

  “Look, neither of us have been lucky in love,” Ethan advised. “Do you ever think about that?”

  “About what?” I asked.

  “Well, how you and I are alone? Separately?” he asked in a leading manner.

  “Umm, no, don’t think so,” I slurred. “But you know when you are alone?”

  “When?” he inquired.

  “When you DIE!” I exclaimed.

  “This is very true,” he said patronizingly.

  “Unless you’re on a plane. Then you die with, like, three hundred other people,” I said, throwing my arms about madly.

  “Ok, champ, I think that you’re done,” he said, trying to take my glass away.

  “Noooooooooo! You are not done with my wine!” I shouted.

  “Ok. Enjoy,” he prompted.

  “Get drunk with me, ‘smore fun that way,” I laughed.

  “Ok, Joely, whatever you say,” he replied.

  “Why not? You’re always in control. Coco and I were laughing about that tonight. ‘Ethan is always Mr. Serious.’ What’s your deal?” I asked.

  “I have fun. I just worry about the firm, about my career, about you …” he trailed off.

  “The firm’s fine. I’m fine,” I said, gently slapping my hand down on his.

  “Are you?” he asked, placing his hand tenderly over mine.

  “Sure. My case is great. My mother cancelled all plastic surgeries she’d scheduled for me. And so what if it’s been a while since I’ve gotten some, but, hey, six months is not the worst dry spell in the world,” I said in an upbeat tone.

  “Are you over Yan?” he asked as he stroked my hand.

  “When was I ever under him?” I laughed.

  Ethan started to laugh too. Without warning, Ethan lurched forward and kissed me unexpectedly. What a kiss! Long, soft, slow and so passionate, I thought to myself. Ethan’s strong hands were caressing my face as he pulled my mouth deeper into his. I felt like I could get lost in this moment and melt in his arms. All of a sudden, I pulled away and was confronted by a very puzzled Ethan whose face bore a frat boy grin. Before he could ask what was wrong, I threw up all over the coffee table and proceeded to pass out.

  As the room spun wildly around me, a bright light seemed to be shining down on my back, enveloping me in its warmth and drawing me towards it.

  “Now slowly transition into Warrior II while balancing your inner chakras,” the voice instructed. “Now descend into Downward Facing Dog.”

  I transitioned into the position while birds chirped overhead
and my soul floated towards the heavens, melodies of “Morning” by Edvard Grieg emanating from invisible overhead speakers.

  “I am at peace. I am calm. My stress is gone,” I repeated.

  “Move your soul’s corporeal vessel from Downward Facing Dog into Cobra as you release your psyche’s toxins,” the yogi voice instructed.

  As I switched my body position into Cobra, I came face-to-face with a headstone that read: “Here lies Joely Zeller’s love life and career. May they rest in eternal peace.” Startled, I jumped up and saw that I was standing atop a freshly filled grave. My grave. Armand stood over my headstone, Sylvia and Antonia engaged in a tug-of-war on either side of him, pulling at each of his arms. On the other side stood Javier and Coco strangling each other, while Janice sat typing on a 1930s typewriter dressed as though she stepped off the set of Sunset Boulevard. Behind me stood Chip, who was massaging Mandy — she in turn had Esty pinned down under the sharp heel of her fake Manolo stiletto. And seated on my headstone was Ethan, holding a non-fat soy latte in one hand and a five-carat, Asscher-cut engagement ring in the other, both tipped in my direction. Tanya flirted in vain at Ethan’s feet.

  “WHAT THE FUCK!?” I screamed as I shot up from my bed, beads of sweat running down my face.

  I started to pat myself down to make sure that it was only a nightmare when I quickly realized that I was not alone. I cautiously looked down beside me and found a soundly sleeping, but fully clothed, Ethan lying next to me.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I repeatedly whispered to myself, carefully sliding out of bed so as to not wake Ethan. “Please tell me we didn’t sleep together. Oh shit!”

  Catching a whiff of the foul stench that was emanating from my hair, I slipped into the bathroom to assess last night’s damage. Like the breaking of the Ninth Ward levees, the memories of last night flooded back. As I stared at my bloodshot reflection, I remembered getting drunk and coming home, downing another few glasses of wine and possibly undoing fifteen years of friendship in the process. This was made worse by virtue of the fact that I had slept in my own vomit, and Ethan still managed to spoon me in that condition. I jumped into the shower in the hopes that the soapy water would wash away last night’s sins and all of Ethan’s memories of my behaviour. When I emerged from the shower, Ethan was no longer in my bed. Too scared to see if he had left, I returned to the bathroom dallying about for a few more minutes. Believing that the coast was clear, I walked into the kitchen in my towel only to be confronted by the vision of Ethan standing there making coffee and spreading Nutella on my whole grain toast.