by Carsen Taite
Morgan was no stranger to Dallas. She’d grown up here and attended school at Richards University, which was her destination this morning. When the couple decided on the move, Morgan made some calls and secured a visiting professorship at her alma mater. A former colleague, now dean of the law school, was happy to have Morgan. Morgan had spent the fifteen years since graduation building a national reputation as a criminal defense counsel working on high-profile cases often involving high-profile individuals and corporations. The last few years, she combined teaching a few classes with her law practice, years of success giving her the freedom to pick and choose her cases. She was actually looking forward to this opportunity to be in the classroom more often, especially on such familiar stomping grounds.
Morgan found a spot in the faculty parking lot. She was grateful her car arrived ahead of schedule; getting cabs in Dallas was a sketchy proposition at best. She loved the comfort of her Lexus SUV, appreciating the fact that with so many other SUVs on the road in Dallas, she didn’t feel the pangs of guilt for driving such a gas guzzler she usually felt back East. She switched off the radio and left the luxury of her ride to head into the law school.
As she approached the desk in the administrative office, she smiled at a familiar sight. Edith Perkins had manned the receptionist post for decades. There she sat, looking every bit as alert and all-knowing as she had when Morgan the first-year law student asked her for directions to the registrar’s office on her first day. Catching Edith’s eye, she grinned as she saw the stalwart gatekeeper try to stay focused on her phone conversation, though it was obvious she was busting at the seams to greet her.
“Morgan Bradley, as I live and breathe!” Edith came around the desk to give Morgan her version of a bear hug. Edith Perkins was a tiny woman and, to Morgan’s mind, ageless. She looked exactly the same as she had eighteen years ago, and Morgan figured she would look the same eighteen years into the future.
“Edith, I can’t tell you how good it is to see a familiar face. I assume you know why I’m here?”
“Certainly, dear. Have a seat and I’ll let Dean Ramirez know you’re here. She’s been barely able to contain her excitement at the prospect of landing a big celebrity to teach this semester, never mind you’re also an alumna.” Edith pointed to a sofa in the waiting area and walked down the hall toward the dean’s office. Morgan grimaced slightly at Edith’s assessment of her status. She hardly thought of herself as a celebrity. True, for the past few years she had made regular appearances on the cable network legal circuit spouting her opinions on everything from current cases in the media to Supreme Court rulings. She was a go-to legal consultant for Court TV, MSNBC, and CNN. When she wasn’t hyping her own cases, she was ready and willing to provide insight to the viewing layperson about the tricks of the trade employed by her colleagues in the criminal defense bar. She was looking forward to sharing the basics with her students, though, and hoped all the glitz of TV law wouldn’t get in the way of the learning experience.
Dean Yolanda Ramirez entered the waiting area, apparently so eager to greet Morgan she couldn’t wait for her to be ushered back to her office. After exchanging hugs, the two women adjourned to Yolanda’s office. Morgan took her time appraising the space and nodded with approval. “Why, Dean, you’ve done very well for yourself.”
“As have you, Professor, as have you. Ray spends his evenings surfing channels to hear your sound bites. I try not to be jealous, but sometimes…”
Morgan laughed at Yolanda’s reference to her husband. Raymond and Yolanda had been married forever, having met and fallen in love when they were in law school. Yolanda used to joke if they could make it through three years of brutal education, they could make it through anything, so they might as well get hitched. Morgan met Raymond working at a local firm that had recruited her upon graduation. Raymond, a partner at the firm, recognized the budding talent of the first-year associate and picked her to second chair on numerous cases. Not one to let ego get in the way of a good defense, Raymond began to turn more and more major case responsibilities over to her. Eventually, Morgan was recruited by a firm with a national presence and, at forty years old, she was one of the top criminal defense lawyers in the nation. Despite the fact it had been years since she lived in Dallas, she remained close friends with Raymond and Yolanda. In fact, she and Tina had been frequent visitors to Dallas, often staying with the Ramirezes on their weekend jaunts to shop and play in the Lone Star State.
Morgan responded to Yolanda’s bait. “Seriously, Yo, like Ray has eyes for anyone but you. If I weren’t a lesbian, I would be offended by the lack of attention I get from your husband.”
“Speaking of attention you should be getting, how’s Tina?”
“Poor segue.” Morgan had confided in Yolanda part of the reason for the move to Dallas was to rekindle some sparks with Tina. Now she needed to bring her up to date on the current situation, a conversation she was dreading. “Actually, I will not be relying on Tina for any attention in the future, Yolanda. We broke up and I moved out.”
“What the hell? I mean, what happened?”
“Tina found someone else to spark her flame. For all I know she found several someone elses. All I know for sure is we’re done. I’ve been staying at the Palomar since the night after I arrived.”
“So, you broke up after one night here? Wow.”
“Yep, I decided to surprise her by arriving early. Turns out I was the one surprised. I showed up at a bar where she was supposed to be meeting some folks from work. She was practically having sex with another woman on the dance floor.”
Yolanda wrapped her in an embrace. “You poor thing. How mortifying. What did you do?”
“Well, first I felt sorry for myself. Then I decided to go home with the best-looking woman at the bar. The next morning I did what I should have done years ago. I told Tina I’d had enough and moved out. Well, I didn’t actually move out since my stuff wasn’t there yet, but I moved myself into the Hotel Palomar.”
“Whoa there, missy! Sandwiched in between your tale of woe, I think I heard you say something about going home with the best-looking woman at the bar. True or not true?”
Morgan grinned. “True. Can you believe it? I was so mad at Tina and there was no way in hell I was going to spend the night at the scrubby McMansion she picked out for us. I worked off my anger in the best way I knew how.”
“This old married woman wants to hear all about it, but it sounds like a tale best told over cocktails. Why don’t we catch up this weekend? Ray and I are hosting a thing for all the first-years Saturday night at our place. How about brunch on Sunday? You, me, and your sordid romances?”
“It’s a date. The thing on Saturday, I suppose you want faculty to attend?”
“If you don’t mind, we would like to have as many of the professors as possible. It helps for the newbies to meet you all in a less imposing setting than the classroom. I realize you probably won’t have any first-years in your class, but it would be nice for them to meet the big star on campus. Meeting you will give them a good memory they can reflect on when they are alumni and I am sending them endless requests to donate to the scholarship fund.”
“No problem, Yo. It’s not like I have anything else to do. I’ll come early and help.”
“Come early, dear, but the caterers have everything well in hand.” Yolanda stood. “Now, please allow me to give you a personal tour of the new wing. You’re going to love the new moot courtroom. It’s very high tech and your office is right across the hall, so you’ll be perfectly situated.”
Arm in arm, they made their way toward Morgan’s new office.
*
“Two? Why two?” Parker exclaimed to Gerald Lopez, the student body president, waving the slips of paper in her hand.
“No good deed goes unpunished. It’s simple. We didn’t have enough mentor volunteers to assign one to each first-year, so some of you have two.”
“Any particular reason I was chosen as one of the lucky
ones?”
“Yeah, Casey,” Gerald answered without expression. “It’s your winning personality. Hell, I don’t know, maybe they figured because you’re older you’d have more wisdom to share.”
Parker would have laughed if she thought Gerald was kidding. Truth was she thought he was an idiot. Handsome, fast talking, and popular with many of the female students, he’d needed little else to secure the election as president of the law school student body. Gerald was definitely a player and relied on attributes other than hard work and legal skill to get where he wanted to be. With his luck, he’d probably be district attorney someday. Parker grimaced at the thought.
“Fine, I’ll be happy to share my sage wisdom with these two. Where do I hook up with them?”
“They’ll be done with their library orientation at noon. Here’s your name tag. Wait in the lobby of the library and they’ll find you.”
Parker looked with disdain at the plastic badge Gerald had shoved into her hand. No way was she wearing a name tag. Glancing at her watch, she saw she only had five minutes to wait. No time to grab a bite to eat. Well, she decided, I’ll show them the snack bar as the first stop on the grand tour.
Parker leaned against a tall cement pillar in the library while she waited for the 1Ls to appear. Within a few minutes, they came walking toward her, a whole herd of them. They huddled together, drawing on the only comfort they knew in this strange place, the familiarity of each other. Although most of them had met only a few days ago, the relationships they formed in those first hours were the most important ones they would have for the next three years. Sharing the grueling experience of law school from start to finish would make them as close or closer to one another than many of the relationships they might have had with lovers.
Parker reflected on her reluctance to take on two mentees and decided to rise to the challenge. After two years of experience, she was well equipped to handle any situation, including showing a couple of newbies the ropes. Her grades were top-notch and her class schedule consisted of courses she was sure to ace. This was her last year in law school and she was on top of the world.
Chapter Three
Yolanda threw the best parties, Morgan reflected as she glanced around the room. She knew Yolanda’s desire to make the new 1Ls feel comfortable was sincere and the ambience reflected it. Many top-tier law school deans would use this opportunity to impress the new students with the power and stature of their office. Instead, Dean Yolanda Ramirez thought it was her privilege and duty to offer a warm welcome to the newbies and get to know them before the semester took off with a roar. The only hint of formality was the fact waiters circulated with platters of hors d’oeuvres.
Morgan made her way over to the bar and secured a glass of Pinot Noir from the hunky blond mixing drinks for the event. Her mind wandered to thoughts of the bartender whose bed she had occupied recently, and she wondered if Parker was working at Betty’s this evening. Her thoughts stoked feelings still smoldering since their night of fiery passion. Morgan was still amazed when she recalled her every action that night, from asking Parker to take her somewhere, anywhere, to her own display of sexual aggression. She revisited the sensations, hungry to repeat them outside the virtual scene in her mind.
Put those thoughts aside, Professor, she scolded herself. The last thing she needed was to make a return visit to the scene of the end of her relationship. The night she spent with the beautiful stranger was an indiscretion, excusable at the time, but untenable if repeated. Folding away images of the tall, dark-haired bartender, Morgan swallowed a healthy dose of her pinot and charged into the growing crowd of teachers and students.
*
Parker realized she was going to miss the smoky bar. She glanced around, glad to see the place was crowded.
“Penny for your thoughts, Casey.”
“Irene, you should know by now my thoughts are worth so much more.” Parker playfully punched the woman at her side. She held a large measure of genuine affection for bar owner Irene Stewart. Irene was a friend from long ago. An older, crusty dyke, she had owned the bar since the beginning of time. As an undergrad, Parker had welcomed the opportunity to work at the busy establishment and Irene became more than a boss; she was also a mentor and friend.
“You haven’t taken your eyes off the crowd tonight. Lookin’ for someone in particular?”
Parker reflected, not for the first time, on Irene’s uncanny ability to read her thoughts. She had definitely been scouring the faces in the crowded bar, hoping to see Morgan. So far, no sign of her. Resolving to be more discreet in her search, she joked, “It’s my last night for a while. I’m trying to savor every moment.”
“As long as it’s only moments you’re savoring, we’ll get through the night. It’s busy already and it’s only nine o’clock. I’ll get Dannie to stock extra glasses and make sure we have enough ice.”
Parker surveyed the room and agreed. The place was packed tonight, more so than a usual Friday night. Most of the faces in the crowd were familiar. It seemed as though everyone she knew was at the bar tonight. As she reflected, she heard the music stop and the DJ asked for the crowd’s attention. Wondering at the unexpected interruption to the club’s routine, she turned and started to call out for Irene. The shout died in her throat as she saw Dannie and another one of the barbacks approaching slowly, each precariously balancing an end of a large sheet cake. Parker read the top of the cake—We’ll Miss You, Parker!—and lost the ability to speak. Suddenly the entire room erupted in clapping, hoots, and hollers and Irene showed up in time to wrap Parker in a big bear hug.
“I love you, kid. We wanted to make your last night special.”
Parker brushed aside a tear and kissed Irene’s cheek. “Aw, Irene, you didn’t have to do this. You know I’ll be in all the time. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
Irene wagged a finger in her face. “Yeah, we’ll see. I’ll let you know after I see your report card.”
*
“Professor Bradley?” At Morgan’s nod, the tall, barrel-chested man offered his hand. “I’m Jim Spencer. Nice to finally meet you.”
Morgan shook the proffered hand and exchanged pleasantries. “Nice to meet you as well. Student or teacher?”
Jim Spencer laughed a Santa Claus laugh, his sides shaking with genuine amusement. “You’re a pistol in person, just like on TV. While Yolanda does encourage older students to apply, I’m certain she doesn’t mean as old as me. I’m your go-to professor for torts, civ pro, and ethics.”
Morgan smiled at him. His humor was contagious. “Ah, torts, the bane of every first-year’s existence. I think I’ll go stand in another part of the room. I want the newbies to like me well enough to take my classes later.”
“So, you’ll be sticking around? I knew you had a visiting spot, but I wasn’t sure how long your term was going to last.”
Morgan realized she had made the statement about her future plans without conscious decision. Wanting to give herself some wiggle room while she reflected on her future plans, she said, “Let’s say I’m leaving my options open.”
“Well, I’ll try not to scare you away. Here alone? I think Yolanda mentioned you are in a relationship.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel more comfortable? You’ve already checked me out?” Her tone was light and teasing.
“Hey, I believe in checking out all my options right from the start. It’s good litigation strategy. Don’t you think I should practice what I preach?”
“Morgan, is this man bothering you?”
They both turned toward the voice of Dean Ramirez. Jim started to bluster a reply, but Morgan found words first. “Yes, Dean, very much so. I certainly hope the rest of the faculty possesses more decorum than I have seen exhibited so far.”
Jim turned to Yolanda and began his protest. “Forgive me for trying to get to know the new professor and help her become acclimated to our school. I’ll leave you two and go harass some of the one-Ls. Lord knows they’ll t
ake it better.” Jim reached out, grasped Morgan’s hand, and brushed it against his lips. “Have a wonderful evening, madam.” Smiling, he disappeared into the crowd.
Morgan spoke first. “Yo, he’s incorrigible, but I like him.”
“I figured you might, so I sent him over to talk to you. And I told him to be available for anything you need this semester. He’s been here so long he could walk the halls blindfolded. His office is next to yours. Jim is harmless, though he puts on such a big show about acting like a letch.”
“Thanks for taking such good care of me.”
“It’s my job, sweetie. Now, I need to mingle and I want you with me. One way to get the new kids invested in the school year is the promise of things to come. I plan to talk you into staying for a while and I want them to meet our new resident celebrity. Meeting you should inspire them to stick it out through the nasty first year so they can take fun classes like yours.”
Morgan thought back to her time in this very law school and remembered the first year had been at once exciting and horrible. She pledged to do her part to help smooth the way and accompanied Yolanda on her first circuit around the room to meet a dizzying number of new students. Of course, she couldn’t tell new from old very well, since this was her first time to meet any of the students present. One student in particular tried mightily to monopolize her attention. She had to catch Jim’s eye from across the room, imploring him to intervene.
“Gerald, I see you’ve met our new professor, Professor Bradley.” Jim positioned himself between Morgan and the student.
“Yes, Professor Spencer. I wanted to get her take on the recent Supreme Court opinion regarding lethal injections. I know she advocated for the appeal, but my question to her has to do with how the decision will be applied.”
Jim laughed. “Gerald, let me tell you what I think is cruel and unusual punishment. It’s talking about Supreme Court opinions at a cocktail party. Now, run along and mentor your new folks and leave the professor to lighter conversation.”