Serving Time (The Valentine Law Series Book 1)

by Bailey West

  “Had a bad day, huh?”

  “Disastrous.”

  “Did they already try to trump up her charges?”

  It was my turn to hike an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” I said tilting my head to the side.

  How did she know that?

  “They offered him a deal to flip on her?”

  “They did.”

  “Such amateurs,” she chuckled. “It’s like they haven’t updated the playbook at all.”

  She examined me through squinted eyes then looked at her watch.

  “Do you have a few minutes? I want to show you something.”

  I looked at my watch knowing I had time. I had cleared my evening to close this deal with her.

  “Sure.”

  She brushed past me and swiped her cell phone at the entrance of her building which caused the door to open.

  “Come on up.”

  I could smell… her, her natural body odor. It was incredible. I took a deep breath in hoping to capture her scent and commit it to memory. I moved to walk beside her because I knew the view from behind was going to be distracting.

  We rode the elevator to her floor and walked to the end of the hallway to her apartment. I was impressed by the upgrades to her building. I remember when it was a hotel. I used it for a number of my clients.

  I followed her into her apartment.

  “You can have a seat. I need a few minutes to clean myself up.”

  You don’t have to change on my account.

  “Not a problem.”

  “There is water in the fridge and liquor at the bar,” she threw over her shoulder as she walked to the back of her apartment.

  I stood from my seat to look out her window. The view from her place was of the south side of the city. It wasn’t spectacular, but it wasn’t obstructed by buildings like some of the units in this building. It didn’t take her long to return carrying the file I’d left at her office.

  She handed me the file then went to her kitchen and returned with a bottle of water. She’d changed into a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. She wore some pink fuzzy slippers.

  I returned to my seat and opened the file. She occupied the couch directly across from me. I opened the folder and saw notes written in green ink scattered on the document. I flipped the pages and saw the notes were not only on the first page but throughout the entire document.

  One note read: Discuss presentation, i.e., clothes, speech, clique.

  I read on: prepare for charges pile-up.

  I tilted my head to read another one: They will probably offer him a deal to flip…or her…but probably him.

  I looked through more of the notes then looked up at her.

  “I had decided I wasn’t going to help you, but I still went through the file and made notes,” she shrugged.

  “Is there anything I can do to convince you?”

  She had me. I needed her, and she knew I needed her. If I would’ve had some of these notes before court today, it would have significantly increased our chances of favorable rulings.

  She released a deep breath and stood from her seat. She walked to the same window I’d just vacated.

  “Can you assure me I would be coming on as a full member of the team? At your office, you mentioned something about the optics as it relates to the jury. I don’t have the time or the patience to play arm candy to you, Mr. Valentine. If that is the case, then please look for a female attorney that’s trying to get on or make a name for herself. I assure you I am already on and I have a name, an important, recognized name.”

  “Ms. Patterson, I am a man of infinite resources. I can work with whomever I choose. I can have ‘arm candy’ without requesting it. I asked for you to consider this partnership. I didn’t say you would be my employee nor did I say you would be a junior member of the team. I expect for you to bring your entire arsenal to the table and participate as an equal.”

  She turned to the window again and looked out without speaking. I could appreciate a person that thought through their answers. I’m always cautious of people who agreed too quickly.

  She turned around and said, “Then I will accept your offer and work with your firm.”

  I stood and extended my hand. She offered hers, and we shook.

  “I will have Gretchen send you a schedule of meetings. We will need to have a meeting with the clients to introduce you to them.”

  “Yes, and I need to hear the story from them. I read the file, but I need to hear them speak about it. It helps with my process.”

  “We can make that happen.”

  Averie

  I turned off the main road onto my parents’ street. So many things had changed in this neighborhood over the years. I used to be able to name every family that lived in every house on the block. Mr. and Mrs. Gregory and their three sons, Mr. and Mrs. McCaslin and their whore daughter who slept with all the boys in the neighborhood. The Sutherland family that had at least twelve children, all of whom would fight you if you crossed one of them.

  People were friendly and took pride in the way their homes looked. Now there were a bunch of strangers milling around. No one cared about their lawns or the condition of their houses. It was such a shame. I pulled into my parents’ driveway behind Keeva’s Audi. My parent’s end of the street still held most of the families that lived here when I was growing up. They still cared about their yards and the condition of their houses.

  Kenzie and Travis had arrived in town earlier today, and we were all meeting at my parents’ house for dinner. I was excited to see my sister, but I was not looking forward to my love life being the dinner topic. I always got the third degree about my love life because both my younger sister and older sister were in long-term committed relationships. Forget the fact that I graduated from high school with a four-point-five GPA. Forget the fact that I graduated from law school second in my class due to a grading technicality. I should have been first, but one of my professors had a hard-on for one of the guys in the class and gave him a higher grade than me. Oh, and definitely forget about me having my own law firm. None of those things mattered because I didn’t have a man on my arm when I came for dinner, such bullshit. I knew it was going to come up, so I tried my best to prepare myself for it.

  I turned off my engine, reached behind me to grab the desserts I’d purchased and made my way into my childhood home.

  “Hey, Averie!” Mr. Cortopassi, my parent’s next-door neighbor called.

  “Hi, Mr. Cortopassi! How are you?” I called back.

  “As good as I’m gone get! What you know good?”

  Mr. Cortopassi was raised in his home. When he got married, he and his wife moved into his childhood home and raised their children there. He was one of the few white people who welcomed us into the neighborhood when we first moved in. It’s crazy to think that in the nineteen-eighties, we were one of the first black families to move into this neighborhood.

  “Mr. Cortopassi, I never know how to answer that question!”

  We both laughed.

  “Tell your parents I said hello.”

  “Will do!”

  I used my key to open my parent’s door. I heard music and talking coming from the kitchen. I walked past my mother’s wall of fame. It was a wall dedicated to family portraits. Every baby, class, school, and event picture my sisters and I had ever taken were proudly mounted on the wall.

  There were pictures of Keeva and Kerem next to photos of Kenzie and Trevor. The next set of pictures were of me at prom with my high school boyfriend, Stan. My mother was so sure that Stan was my husband. She still calls him her son-in-law and Stan and I haven’t been together for at least thirteen years. He had moved on, gotten married and had three beautiful little girls. We just wanted different things. He wanted to settle down and have a family. I wanted to run around DC and make power moves. We separated as friends, but my mother still rallied for him.

  I followed the voices and found my mother and both of my sisters in the kitchen.
r />   “Averie!” Kenzie came barreling towards me. I hurried and put down the desserts to catch her.

  “Hey, baby sis!” We hugged.

  I moved further into the kitchen to hug my mother and Keeva.

  “You look good,” I said to Kenzie.

  “Thank you, so do you. I love this haircut!” Kenzie touched my hair.

  “Tsk,” my mother made a noise I chose to ignore.

  “Thank you. You look good too.” I ran my hand through her custom Brazilian wig. “Oooh, this is nice.”

  “I know right?” She laughed while swinging her hair from right to left.

  “Do they make those here?” My mother asked.

  “They make them everywhere, Mommy,” Kenzie answered.

  “Averie, maybe you could find you one,” my mother said. “I mean you know for when you go out on dates. Men like hair,” she continued stirring something on the stove. “I mean, your eggs aren’t getting any younger.”

  She had started already.

  “I love her hair, Mommy,” Kenzie replied. “It showcases her high cheekbones and beautiful skin. You know she gets those from you.”

  “That’s true,” my mother agreed.

  She loved compliments.

  Kenzie, Keeva and I made eye contact and smiled.

  “Where is Travis?”

  “He is outside with daddy and Reem. I can’t wait to come over and stay at your new place. Plus, I need some new things to take back to LA with me.”

  Both of my sisters loved raiding my closet. We were all about the same size in clothes, but my feet were a whole size larger than theirs so at least my shoes were safe.

  “When are you coming down?”

  “We have to go and see Travis’ mom then we will be there. Will you be awake?”

  “I already gave your name to the front desk, so you will be able to enter whenever you want. There is an app you can download that works as a key to unlock my door.”

  “Cool! All fancy and shi…” Her eyes got wide as she self-corrected. “…Stuff”

  We held in our laughter.

  “What’s going with you?” Kenzie asked.

  “I landed a big case. I am going to be partnering with another firm. One of the largest and most influential firms in the country and the managing partner is black.”

  “That’s what’s up!” Kenzie smiled.

  “You decided to work with them?” Keeva asked.

  “Yeah, after I got off the phone with you, Mr. Valentine came to my office and offered some half-butt apology, so I decided to not work with them, but then he showed up at my building with his tail tucked between his legs and apologized again. That’s when I decided to help him.”

  Keeva high fived me.

  “That’s right! Make him work for it.”

  My mother finished dinner. My sisters and I helped her take all the food into the dining room where the men joined us.

  “Hey, daddy. Hey Reem. Hey Travis.” I hugged each man before we all sat down to eat.

  We talked about Keeva’s daycares and how well they were doing. Travis talked about his new project with Lyrica, one of the hottest pop singers out. She’d taken a break to have a baby but now she was back, and Travis was producing a couple tracks on her new release. Then the conversation turned to me.

  “Have you heard from Stan,” my mother asked.

  I knew we wouldn’t make it through this dinner without her asking.

  “No Mommy. I’m sure he is busy with his wife and family.”

  “Wife and family,” my mother mumbled under her breath.

  “Daddy, I was telling mommy in the kitchen I am partnering with a prominent law firm to work on a high-profile case.”

  “How did that come about?” He stopped eating to give me his full attention.

  “One of the senior attorneys at the firm contacted me. They want a female to represent their female client.”

  “They heard you were the business and they wanted you on their team, huh?” Travis said.

  “Yep,” I smiled.

  “Which law firm?” Kerem asked.

  “Valentine Law Group.”

  “We tried to get their business at the bank but the head guy, um, what’s his name…” Kerem looked at the ceiling in thought.

  “Samuel Valentine?” I helped.

  “Yeah, he was dead set on using a black-owned bank to handle his finances. We tried every incentive we could think of, and he turned us down cold. I’m not mad though. I understand.”

  “I understand too,” Keeva chimed in. “I put most of my money in Kerem’s bank, but I do have an account at Freedom Credit Union. If he ever leaves his bank, all my money is going with him!”

  We all laughed.

  “Valentine, why does that name sound familiar?” my dad asked.

  “His name is on that big glass building downtown, Big Dell,” Kerem answered.

  “I’ve seen that, but the name is ringing a bell for some other reason,” my dad responded.

  “He was falsely accused of murdering two white people and spent some time in jail before they found evidence to throw out the case,” I answered.

  “Oh, right. I remember reading about that years ago. Yeah, that’s why his name is familiar. Congratulations baby. I’m sure you will do well.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  “It would be even nicer if she finally brought home a young man for us to meet,” my mother added.

  “Mommy, really?” Keeva jumped to my defense.

  “I’m just saying,” My mother continued, “You are not getting any younger. You need to meet someone and settle down. Make someone a good home and build a legacy.”

  “Mommy, I think she is building a legacy. I mean, how many young black women do we know who have their own successful law firm?” Kenzie asked.

  My sisters always came to my rescue.

  “I’m not saying her success is not good. It’s great, and I am so proud, but there is more to life than work.”

  “Mommy, she has time to do all of what you said, if she wants to,” Keeva added.

  “Time is something we have, but we don’t know how much. You can’t live your life like you are going to be here forever. Look at Myrtle’s daughter…”

  “Oh, my gawd,” my sister and I said at the same time.

  My mother always used her old friend Myrtle’s daughter as an example of something terrible happening to someone young. She also used it for her life is short speech.

  “No, no Myrtle’s daughter probably thought she had a long life ahead of her too and look what happened. She was walking down the street, minding her own business and a window ac unit fell and hit her. Poof, she was no longer here! She had plans. She had goals. Did she get to finish anything? No!”

  “Mommy, this argument is tired. Just let her live her own life,” Kenzie pleaded.

  “I’ve wanted to ask you this, Averie. Your answer will not change how I feel, but I need to know. Are you gay?”

  “Mom!”

  “Mommy!”

  “Estelle!”

  Everyone at the table called her something different at the same time.

  “WHAT?” She threw her fork down on her plate. “I just want to know! You are always on this ‘women are the best’ kick. You self-identify as a feminist. Isn’t that code for lesbian? If you are, that’s fine. At least we will know!”

  “Estelle, that’s enough,” my father said. “She is grown and what she does in or outside of her bedroom is her business.”

  “Wendell, I…”

  “Stop it. I’m serious,” my father replied sternly.

  The room was so quiet you could hear a mouse pee on cotton. I wanted to finish my dinner but had totally lost my appetite, which was rare for me. I shuffled my food around my plate for a while.

  “For the record, I am a feminist. That doesn’t mean that I believe women are superior or that I have negative views of men. It certainly isn’t code for lesbianism. It means that I am an advocate of women’
s rights, period. I like men. I love men actually, but I am in a position now where men are sometimes intimidated by my status or they are just clowns. I would rather focus my attention on something I can control. If I meet someone, fine. If I don’t, fine. I’m okay with Averie.”

  “You should be, Vee. We, your mother and I, are proud of you.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.” I stood from the table. “I’m gonna go ahead and get back downtown. Kenzie, I will text you the app to unlock the door.”

  “Averie, you don’t have to leave,” my father said.

  “Yeah, I do. I have a big meeting in the morning with Mr. Valentine, and I need to get some rest.”

  I grabbed my plate and glass to clean them before I left. My mother stood and blocked my path.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “It’s all good, Mommy.” I kissed her cheek. “I will see you later.”

  I waved to the rest of the room. I quickly cleaned my dishes, and the rest of the dishes that were in the sink before making my way to my car.

  I’ve always loved my mother, but she had a way of talking too much and saying things she couldn’t take back. She knows when she’s gone too far because my father usually steps in and shuts her down, but not before she’s already said something she couldn’t take back.

  Samuel

  “What’s the plan for the rookies? Who are we looking at? Are we trading for another pitcher or are you confident Salias will make it back from Tommy John’s surgery?”

  I was sitting at a conference table with my business partners. I was part owner of a Major League Baseball team, the Charlotte Stars. I purchased a portion of the team a few years ago when the original owner passed away, and her family put the team up for sale. There were four owners. I had the second largest ownership percentage of the team. I’d been considering making a move to change that in the near future. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the majority owner or what he was doing for the team, but I thought I could bring in a group to do a better job.

  I believe when Theodore, the current majority owner asked me to be a part of the investment group, he underestimated how much I was able to actually bring to the table. I underestimated how lucrative an MLB team could be. Now I wish I would have invested more and ultimately took the other two owners out of the picture. I was working on it.