by Alexa Davis
"Dad!" I protested as I looked at the check. He'd given me six months rent plus expenses and then added a cushion. "You cannot give me this much money!"
"I can do whatever I like, thank you very much," he said as he tucked the checkbook in his back pocket and poured himself a cup of coffee. "I'm a grownup."
"Thank you," I said softly as I walked over to where he and my mom stood and hugged them both. "I'm going to make this work, I promise."
"Brooke, we know you're doing the best you can," my mother said. "We want to help you as much as we are able to."
"And since we can't take it with us, it just makes sense to use it now," my father added.
"Don't even joke about that," I warned.
"I'm not, I'm serious," my father said. "We might not always be able to help, but if we can, we will."
"Thank you both," I said as I hugged them again and then headed out the door. "You're the best."
"Sure, sure, you say that now," my father, laughed as he waved me off. "Dinner next week. We'll pick the place and you meet us there."
I waved at both of my parents and headed out to my car. I needed to deposit the check and pay my late rent before I headed over to meet with Roger and Jordie at the office and decide if we could salvage our business.
CHAPTER THREE
Dax
"Sir, you're going to need to leave your weapon at the door," Dozer said as I watched on the club's closed circuit security system. This was the monthly meeting of all Southern California kingpins, and we had a strict rule about no weapons in the meetings.
"Man, that's fucked up!" Mario yelled at the camera. He was new to the game, so he'd have to learn. I watched as Dozer bent his 6'7" frame so that his face was level with Mario's.
"That might be true, my friend, but that's the rule," Dozer said as he held out a plastic box for Mario to deposit his weapon. "You want to argue with me?"
"Nah, homie, we cool," Mario said as he dropped his gun in the box and leaned back from Dozer's intimidating stare. Not many people were foolish enough to try and tangle with a Samoan man the size of a refrigerator. Dozer smiled, tagged the box with Mario's information, and then put a lid on it and added it to the stack of weapons he'd already collected.
"Welcome to the meeting." Dozer smiled as he turned and allowed Mario to enter the main floor of the club. "Please help yourself to food and drinks at the bar. Mr. Malone will be starting the meeting in fifteen minutes."
I smiled at the nice touch of hospitality that Dozer always added to the proceedings. It wasn't necessary, but it helped soothe bruised egos and made the meetings feel more professional.
Five minutes before we were scheduled to start, Riza came rushing through the door, pushing Dozer out of her way as she tried to head for the office. He held his ground and held out a box for her weapon. She shot him a look of immense irritation and muttered something I couldn't hear before she pulled her pistol out of its holder and dropped it in the box. She quickly covered the floor and barged into my office without knocking.
"Boss, we have a major problem," she began.
"You know I'm about to start this meeting, right?"
"Oh fuck that, this is major," she said as she began to pace the floor. "Dax, Lydia's missing."
"What?"
"Fuckin' Lydia is missing. She's been gone for three days and no one's said a word until now," she said as she ran a hand through her long black hair.
"How do you know she's missing?" I asked. Lydia Banks had been my lawyer for ten years. I'd found her just after she'd finished a year as a low-level defense attorney for the state and was disillusioned with the system. We'd met in my club, had a one-night stand, and the next morning, I'd hired her on the spot. It turned out to be the best decision I'd ever made. Lydia was the person who dealt with the police, the courts, and the prison system. They were all hazards of the trade. She filed the paperwork that kept my hotel and club legitimate and she got bail for the low-level dealers in the organization. Most of all, Lydia kept me out of the fray.
"She didn't show up in court for the bail hearing this morning," Riza said. "I asked around and no one's seen her since she left Dooley's on Saturday night after closing."
"You tried to track her down in all the usual places?"
"Of course I did," Riza said as she turned and planted her hands on her hips. "How fuckin' stupid do you think I am?"
"Don't get an attitude with me, Ri," I warned. "I don't have time for that bullshit today. First, Beck fucks up and now Lydia disappears, this is just fuckin' great. I have a meeting to run!"
"What do you want me to do about it?" she asked.
"Get your ass out there and find my fucking lawyer!" I yelled.
"You want me to stay for the meeting?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah, yeah," I waved her off. "Stay and listen to what's going on. Maybe you'll get some information on where Lydia is, who the hell knows."
I wasn't pissed at Riza and she knew me well enough to know that, but I was pissed at Lydia. She was a good lawyer, but I knew she had a problem. I'd known about it for a long time. I'd tried to get her to go to a clinic and dry out. I even offered to pay for it, but she was hardheaded and refused to acknowledge that her drinking was starting to affect her work. I'd warned her about that. It was one thing to fuck up her personal life, but it was an entirely different thing to fuck up my business, and I wouldn't have it. We had come to an understanding, but it had been touch and go for the past few months and Riza had had to bail Lydia out on more than one occasion.
I'd seriously considered replacing her, but the problem was that I didn't know any other lawyers who would skirt the boundaries of the law the way she did. Until I found someone as equally trustworthy, I couldn't afford to cut her loose. Despite her drinking problem, she was still an incredibly good lawyer who was willing to work around the clock to get what she wanted.
Besides, she knew all my secrets.
CHAPTER FOUR
Brooke
"Good morning, Ms. Raines," said the gray-haired woman at the front desk. "Your messages are on your desk and the memo you asked me to type up is in a file folder in your inbox."
"Good morning, Alma," I said with a smile as I set a small, limp potted violet on her desk. "I found this at the open market over the weekend and wondered if you could nurse it back to health?"
"I will do my best, Ms. Raines," she replied as she picked up the pot and gave it a once over. Her disapproving “tsk, tsk, tsk” let me know that there was definitely something wrong with the way the plant had been kept, but when she murmured, "Now, don't you worry, I'll have you back in tiptop shape in no time", I knew I'd made the right decision.
We had hired Alma Granger a few weeks after we'd opened the firm. She was the only secretary that the three of us could agree upon. Roger and Jordie had voted for secretaries who resembled Hooters servers and whose nail appointments and spin classes made them unavailable during business hours. I, on the other hand, wanted someone who was familiar with the law, could work with design programs, and could write like a novelist while answering phones and keeping track of my schedule.
Alma answered our ad in the Times and was the only candidate all three of us could agree upon. She was in her early sixties and had run the front office of a small law firm in San Diego for thirty years before the lawyer (her husband) had dropped dead of a heart attack while meeting with a client about a murder charge. She'd moved to Los Angeles to be closer to her grandchildren and wasn't ready to retire quite yet. She ran our office with an iron fist and idiosyncrasies that ranged from having everything on her desk placed at a ninety-degree angle to calling the three of us by our surnames, and while we'd tried to get her to call us by our first names, Alma was old school and refused to budge.
"Alma, have you seen Roger or Jordie this morning?" I asked as I walked toward my office.
"Not yet, Ms. Raines, but I'm anticipating their arrival in just a few minutes."
"Very well. When they get here,
will you please have them stop by my office?"
"Indeed, I will," she replied, making a note on the pad she kept sitting on the far right edge of her desk. Alma was nothing if not extremely organized, and she kept a running list of every single thing that needed to be done on the notepad, which she tucked into a locked drawer every night before she left work.
I walked into my office and stood in the middle of the room contemplating the situation. Jordie, Roger, and I had gone to law school together and then spent two years working as public defenders. By the time we'd hit the two-year mark, we were all burned out and ready for something that would give us a chance to actually practice law rather than play games with the justice system. We were naive, but we had the best of intentions as we set out on our own.
As a young law firm, we dealt with a variety of clients, mostly people looking to beat DWIs and petty crime, and occasionally taking on some contract and tax law cases. We weren't experienced enough to pick and choose, so we took everything that came our way and hoped that at some point we'd attract a case that would bring us a lot of attention – and clients. But we were going on two years in business and things were still depressingly slow.
We were barely scraping by, and now we were facing a crisis of funds that would threaten to shutter the practice if we didn't do something to turn the ship around.
"Morning Brooke," Jordie said as he stuck his head in the door and waved at me.
"Hey, Jordie!" I called as I got up from my desk and walked out into the hallway. "Where's Rog?"
"He's on his way in," he said as he started to go through his mail. "Texted me something about getting caught on the 101."
"He was with a new girl again?" I laughed.
"Yeah, I don't know what that's about," he said shaking his head. "But then again, I never have."
"Jordie, we need to talk about the firm and how we're going to make this work past the summer," I said, changing the trajectory of the conversation.
"I know," he said. "I've been thinking about it a lot and I think I might have a solution, but we need to talk about the positives and negatives."
"Hey guys," Roger called as he walked past my open door on his way to the coffee pot. "How's it hanging?"
"Late night, Rog?" I asked in a knowing tone.
"Hell yeah," he said. "She was super hot, and I think I'm in love!"
Jordie and I exchanged a grin and a pair of eye rolls. Roger was in love, on average, about three times a month. He'd meet a new girl, fall head over heels, and then before he knew it, she'd dump him and move on to greener pastures. Roger didn't blame them, but he couldn't see that their initial interest in him was always as a lawyer with great earning potential. Once they found out the reality of his situation, they were less enamored.
"We need to have a sit down," I called after him.
"Okay, but let me make this quick call," he said as he disappeared into his office.
"We've lost him again," Jordie sighed.
"Nah, he's just on the upswing of the female roller coaster," I said. "He'll be on his way back down in no time."
CHAPTER FIVE
Dax
"Welcome to the monthly meeting, everyone," I said as I walked into the room and stood at the head of the table. Around the table sat fifteen members of the Southern California Sales Alliance. We'd agreed upon the name several years ago when the Feds started cracking down on dealers. The name added legitimacy to our organization and, more importantly, kept us somewhat under the radar.
"How's everyone doing?" I asked as I looked around the table and noted who was there and who was missing. I made a mental note to tell Riza to check out the missing members and their connection to Lydia.
"The first order of business is the issue of respecting boundaries," I said and the room erupted in a cacophony of voices all trying to get the first word. I held up my hand to silence the group and then continued, "Look, I don't care who is doing what to whom, what I want is for everyone to respect the boundaries we've drawn and stop trying to sneak over the lines. I know business is rough, but if we start fighting each other, we're all gonna go down hard."
"I'm not gonna lie, Dax," said Southside Rudy. "We're hustling to make a stack and sometimes my people cross over the line, but that's customer service, man. If we respect the customers, we're all gonna win."
"Bullshit, Rudy," said Reverend. "You're crossing the lines knowing full well that it starts a skirmish with my people every damn time!"
"Gentlemen," I said quietly. "I don't care what the reason is for the crossing of boundaries, no one is going to do it again. Am I understood?"
"Yeah," they all grumbled as they eyed each other suspiciously.
"If I hear of anyone failing to stay within their own boundaries, I'm gonna come down hard," I warned. "I'm not fucking with you. Stay in your own territory or pay the price."
The room went silent as the message sunk in. They knew I wasn't kidding, and they also knew that my definition of consequences was swift and merciless. I'd learned the hard way from Papi to keep a lid on the business or pay the ultimate price.
We quickly covered our new business and wrapped up the meeting. I had been watching Riza out of the corner of my eye and knew that she had something to report. I shook hands with everyone and told them they were welcome to stay and enjoy a night at the club, but we all knew it was just a courtesy. None of the members of SoCSA wanted to be caught in my club after dark. Still, manners are what separate us from the animals.
"What's up?" I asked as I gestured for Riza to follow me.
"I think I've got a line on what happened to Lydia," she said checking her phone for the hundredth time. "I got a tip from one of the corner boys over on the west side. I'm gonna go check it out."
"You want to take Dozer with you?" I asked.
"Nah, better if I just go in casual and not act like we're ready to start a war," she grinned.
"You sure you can handle it?"
"Don't be an asshole, Dax," she said seriously. "Of course I can handle it. You should know that by now."
"I do, but I don't like sending you in blind, that's all," I said, studying her carefully. Something was bothering Riza, but until she decided to tell me what it was, I wasn't going to know a thing. She'd also grown up with Papi, so at times, we were like two brick walls facing one another.
"I know, I know," she waved me off with no hard feelings and then turned to head out to the meet.
"Riza," I called. "Be careful."
"I always am, boss." She smiled. "I always am."
CHAPTER SIX
Brooke
"We have to do something to generate a positive cash flow, guys," I said. We were sitting around the big oval table in the conference room that we'd outfitted to impress clients. The room was a testament to Jordie's impressive design skills and the functionality of modular furniture bought at one of the office furniture outlet stores near Skid Row. It was impressive, but that wasn't helping us attract clients, only impress them once we got them in the door.
"Chill out, Brooke," Roger said as he sipped coffee from a cup that said “Hang Ten” and “Chillaxe” on the side in red letters. His surfer dude attitude irritated me.
"Chill out? You want me to chill out, do you?" I said, fighting to hide my irritation. "We're months behind in everything except our insurance payments, and we have exactly three clients on our roster. I'm not sure why you're advocating the 'chill out' approach when what we really need is a 'step it up and get some business' approach."
"Look, don't stress out on me," Roger began.
"Stress out on you? Stress out on you?" I shouted. "I'm stressed out in general, and it might help if you were a little less chilled!"
"Guys, guys, guys," Jordie intervened. "It's not going to help if we start attacking one another. We need a game plan, so let's focus our considerable brain power on formulating one, shall we?"
I shot Roger a dirty look as he gave Jordie a thumbs up and a lopsided smile. Jordie's look ple
aded with me to relax, so I sank back in my chair and waited to hear what he had to say.
"We need to expand the practice and attract new clients, that's for sure," he said. "But what we really need is a just one really high profile case that will get our firm on the front pages."
"Oh, so we need to find someone who's a murderer or something," I said dully.
"Well, that would be ideal," Jordie replied. "But it's probably not very likely, so we need to look at some of the sketchier elements in town and see if there's anything we can do to get them to use our services."
"Oh, cool," Roger said. "So, we need to get in bed with the mafia? All Godfather and shit?"
"Roger," I warned. The other reason Roger infuriated me was that his cool surfer dude persona was totally an act. He talked like a lunkhead while the three of us were together, but when he got in a room with a client or in a courtroom in front of a judge, he was as sharp as a tack and didn't miss a beat.
"What?"
"Guys, I'm serious," Jordie said. "We need a high profile case – just one – then we win it and everyone will flock to us for help."
"But what about the illegal activities of the folks you are talking about attracting?" I asked.
"Brooke, seriously," Jordie said. "Everyone deserves legal representation."
"Even the bad guys?" I asked.
"Dude, the bad guys need it most of all," Roger interjected. "They always get the short end of the stick and never the benefit of doubt. They have to work ten times harder to prove they're innocent, whether or not they are. I think these are the kinds of cases we could really win."
"So, what do we do when we're defending drug dealers and thugs?" I asked.
"We represent them," Jordie said. "We don't lie; we simply represent them to the best of our ability."
"Jesus, Brooke," Roger said in an exasperated tone. "You need to come down off your high horse and join the real world where things aren’t all good or evil and black or white!"