by Alexa Davis
"What the hell are you talking about?" I said feeling the beginnings of my own irritation.
"It's all over the news, Mr. Malone," she said in a businesslike tone.
"I'd prefer if you'd call me Dax," I mimicked.
"Fine, Dax, it's all over the news about your dead lawyer," she said.
"I didn't know she was dead when you and I were at the bar," I said flatly. "So, no, I was not trolling for a new lawyer. Besides, why on earth would I troll for a lawyer at a bar?"
"I don't know, it seems like maybe drunk lawyers would give in and do the dirty work a little more willingly?" she said.
"That's just mean," I replied. "How would you feel if I asked if you were out trolling for clients in a bar?"
"Not offended, if that's what you're asking," she said.
"Oh really? Well, then I guess we have different ideas of what's offensive," I said.
"Oh please, don't tell me you have delicate sensibilities!" she laughed. I was getting irritated with this woman and I wasn't so sure I wanted to take her out on a date anymore. "Hello?"
"I'm here," I said.
"Dax, are you mad?" she asked in such an open way that I couldn't help but smile.
"Not mad, just kind of irritated," I admitted.
"Why? Don't you like smart women who can challenge you?"
"Oh, that's below the belt, lady," I laughed. "If you had any idea..."
"Of what?"
"All of the people who help me run my business and are in positions of power are strong, smart women," I said a little defensively.
"So, you want a cookie for being a good guy?" she asked. This question pissed me off.
"What is your problem?" I lashed out. "Why do you seem so intent on emasculating me and chopping me off at the knees? Are you a lesbian or something?"
"Oh right, simply because I'm a woman with a brain in her head and who isn't cowed by your macho 'I'm a nice guy' song and dance, you immediately assume I must be a lesbian," she shot back in an extremely irritated tone. "Nice stereotype, buddy. Good job."
"I repeat, what the hell is your problem?" I shouted into the phone. "God, I try to be a nice guy and call the next morning to ask you out to dinner like I said I would and you turn a simple phone call into the Nuremberg Trials!"
"I'm impressed," she said.
"I'm pissed," I replied. A few seconds passed and I asked, "Why are you impressed?"
"That you know what the Nuremberg Trials are," she said.
"Of course, I took history classes," I shot back. "Who the hell doesn't know that?"
"You'd be surprised," she said. I could hear a smile in her voice and that pissed me off even more. I felt like a mouse being played with by a cat that knew what it would do when the game was over.
"So, do you want to go to dinner or what?" I couldn't hide my irritation, but for some reason, I still wanted to take her out.
"Not if you're going to be angry the whole time," she said. "And, not if you can't ask me nicely."
"Jesus, lady, what the hell do you want from me? Blood?" I shouted. "I asked you once very nicely and you turned this into a battle zone. Now, you want me to try it again?"
"Yes," she said.
"Fine," I huffed. I stopped and took a deep breath to calm myself then waited a few seconds and spoke calmly, "Brooke, I would like very much to take you out for a nice dinner tonight. Would you care to go with me?"
"I'd love to," she said happily.
"Wait, what?"
"I told you to ask me nicely, and you did," she said. "So, it was easy to say yes to a nice invitation like that!"
"You are maddening," I said.
"No, I just know what I want," she said. "And, I'm not afraid to say what I think. Maybe it's maddening because so few women do."
"That's entirely possible," I agreed. "But you're still maddening."
"Oh, you like a good challenge," she replied. "Admit it."
"I'll pick you up at eight," I said. "Where would that be?"
She gave me the address and said she'd be looking forward to dinner. I hung up the phone shaking my head. This woman was a piece of work, but she was right about one thing.
I did love a good challenge.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Brooke
"Good morning, Alma!" I chirped as I walked through the front door and into the office. "Isn't it a lovely morning?"
"Good morning, Ms. Raines," Alma replied. "The forecast says we have a forty percent chance of rain today, so while this morning may be passable, this evening looks like it will be less than lovely."
"Thank you for the weather report, Alma," I said as I looked at her. The compact woman took everything we said quite literally. She could be maddening, but she was extremely functional and kept our office running like a well-oiled machine. Plus, I really liked her.
"What's going on this morning?" I asked as I looked down the hallway to see if Jordie or Roger were in yet.
"There have been several calls from news outlets, but they won't tell me what they want," she reported as she handed me my messages. "They keep asking for you. Mr. Lewis and Mr. Lee are in the conference room and told me to tell you to come in as soon as you get some coffee. I've made a fresh pot and your favorite mug is on your desk."
"Alma, you are worth your weight in gold," I said with a smile.
"Thank you, Ms. Raines, but I do not generally share my weight with anyone but my physician," she said with a serious look. The phone rang at that moment and provided me with a good excuse to head for my office. I wasn't sure what to make of Alma, but she certainly was entertaining.
I set my things down, hung up my coat, and grabbed my mug before heading down to the conference room. I wondered what the guys were working on and why they were there so much earlier than I was. Usually, I was the first one to arrive at the office and often had to wait to start business while they slowly oozed in after late nights out partying and hooking up with the newest starlet on the Hollywood circuit. This morning, I felt like I really shouldn't stand in judgment.
"Hey guys, what's up?" I called as I walked past the conference room toward the coffee pot.
"C'mere, Brooke! We may have found something we can use to generate some business!" Jordie said excitedly.
"Oh yeah? What do you have?" I asked.
"Well, last night they fished Lydia Banks out of the ocean," Roger began.
"I saw that on the news," I said. "It's so sad – and kind of scary."
"But it could mean that we could swoop in and pick up some of her clients," Jordie said as he handed me a list of names. About half were crossed off, but the rest had phone numbers and addresses listed next to them.
"What's this?"
"It's Lydia Banks’ client list," Roger said.
"How on earth do you have this?" I asked as I scanned the list. I recognized quite a few of the names on it, but one stood out like a sore thumb.
"You don't really want to know, do you?" Jordie asked.
"Is it going to make me an accessory to a crime that I didn't commit?" I asked.
"Possibly, but we'll swear that you knew nothing about it," he added.
"So, you'll commit perjury to help illegally build our client list?" I asked.
"Pretty much," Roger said as he circled a name on the list and made a note beside it. "Look, if we don't generate some paying clients soon, we're going to lose the firm anyway, so what's to lose?"
"Our reputations? Our licenses to practice law?" I said as Jordie grabbed the list out of my hand.
"Brooke, look, we're willing to do the dirty work to get the list up and ready for inquiries," he said as he gave me a pleading look. "You go do whatever it is you need to do and when we have something ready that's legitimate, we'll come get you. And then the three of us will figure out how to approach these people."
"I do not like how this sounds, guys," I said. "Why are you so willing to shoulder the responsibility for all of the crap work? I don't get it."
"We don't
have as much to lose as you do," Roger said bluntly.
"What do you mean? What the hell do I have to lose? A condo? Hell, I don't even own a car!" I said.
"No, but you've got a really nice family who does really kind things for us, and we don't want to see them get drawn into this," Jordie said quietly. "We're willing to go to bat for you and for the firm, but when it's time to swing, Brooke, you're gonna have to hit it out of the park."
Suddenly, it dawned on me what they were doing. They were willing to hack into Lydia's system and get her client list and then break it down to the most viable converts, but I was going to have to sell the idea to the targets. I was the bait.
"You're going to send me into these peoples' place of business – and I use that term loosely," I said in a calm voice that hid the level of anger I was now feeling. "I'm the bait that will be used to lure these shady clients into our firm so we can practice law below the legal level."
"Brooke, that's not fair," Jordie said. "Sure, we want you to go in and sell the idea, but that's because you're smart and articulate and you know criminal law better than both Roger and I combined."
"And because I look hot in a skirt and a tight blouse," I added.
"Well, there's that..." Roger said as Jordie smacked him on the back of the head. "Ouch! What'd you do that for?"
"Idiot!" Jordie yelled at him. "I told you to shut the hell up about how she looks!"
"But it's true!" Roger shot back.
"Uh, hello? I'm still in the room," I said as I hid a smile. These two could be idiots, but they were well-intentioned idiots who truly wanted to save the firm from destruction.
"Okay, you two work on the list and when you're ready, come find me and we'll figure out our next step," I said as I walked out of the room. In the hallway, I ran into Alma who was returning from filling her coffee mug. "Alma, they're idiots," I said shaking my head.
"Yes, but they are well-intentioned idiots and that should not be discounted," she replied as she continued down the hall.
She was right.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dax
"The fuck, Dax!" Beck shouted as he slammed open the door to my office. "What the fuck are you doing to me?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked as I looked over the books on my desk and compared them to the files on my computer. I kept several sets of books just in case something happened to one of them, and every week, I personally squared each of them to make sure that no one was cheating me. So far, so good, but I knew I couldn't ever drop my guard or they'd be at me like wolves on blood.
"I'm talking about the fact that you cut me off, big brother!" He was frantically pacing the floor in front of my desk. He was obviously in need of a fix, but not jonesing too hard yet. "You told all the street dealers not to sell to me! The fuck, man?"
"Beck, I've given you every opportunity to sober up and get clean," I repeated the same speech I'd been giving him for the past five years, knowing full well that it would do as much good as all the other speeches I'd given him. Beck hadn't yet hit bottom and until he did, he wasn't going to be motivated to get clean. My heart ached from wanting my little brother back, but I also knew that I couldn't do anything for him. He had to want it for himself.
"Fuck that clean shit, man," he waved at me as he paced restlessly. "Take your do-gooder bullshit to another audience, bro."
"It's not bullshit, Beck," I said as I watched him. He was deep in the grip of a heroin addiction, and I could see the effects. His skin was pocked and bleeding in places where he'd picked at it. He was wearing a long sleeved shirt covered by a sweatshirt and a hoodie even though it was ninety degrees outside. And, I could see that he still hadn't gone to see the dentist I'd found for him. He needed to get his teeth looked at, but he refused to go.
"It's absolute bullshit, Dax, and you know it," he said.
"Why do you say that? I'm doing everything I can to help you," I replied.
"Yeah, but you're still selling the shit," he shot back. "You're a fuckin' street dealer who counts on the junkies like me to need what you're selling. You feed on us, bro. You create the habit and then you keep us weak and enslaved so you can sit in your penthouse counting your cash."
"That's not fair, Beck," I said in a measured tone. "You know what I do. I provide a product to those who require it. It's as simple as that."
"Yeah, but it's not simple when you're sitting on your high horse preaching to your little brother who is a smack addict, now is it?" he said pointedly.
"You have a choice," I replied.
"And so do you, big brother," he said as he put his palms on my desk and leaned over to look me straight in the eye. "You've got a choice to hook me up with what I need or to face the consequences of your actions."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I said as I waved him off. "Get the fuck out of here!"
"I'm talking about what we both know," he said. His eyes were burning with a fevered light. "You know what I'm talking about. If you don't hook me up, I'm gonna go down to the precinct and tell them everything I know about this business."
"Beck," I warned. He'd threatened this a hundred times, and every single time I'd explained how it would work if he did that. Somehow the fact that he was a junkie didn't quite sink in and the fact that I'd worked hard to keep the business buried deep underneath a number of legitimate businesses buried under a number of other legitimate businesses didn't seem to register. "You don't want to do that."
"No, you don't want to do that!" he yelled. "Give me my stuff! Dammit, Dax! Give me my stuff!"
He was dangerously close to a total meltdown, but we'd been to this edge many times before. I watched him as he spun further and further out of control, hoping that this time would be the time he realized that he needed help. He stomped and screamed and threatened me with every violent act he could think of before he turned and looked at me and screamed, "I hate you!"
"I know you do," I said. "But I love you enough to let you hate me if it means you'll get help and come back and be my brother again."
"Fuck that shit, man," he scoffed. "Why the fuck would I want to be your brother? A fuckin' loser like you? Hell no, motherfucker!"
"Beck, please," I said quietly.
"Fuck you, man," he said as he stalked to the door and flung it open. "You're so fucking selfish, Dax. Always have been and always will be. No wonder everyone we love is dead. They couldn't compete with your self-centered need to be the focus of the universe. Don't worry, I'm next up!"
He turned and raced down the stairs and tore across the dance floor to the exit. I could tell he was crying and it killed me. The hateful things he said to me when he was in desperate need of a fix tore me up and left a gaping wound that took a long time to scab over. Unfortunately, every time I thought maybe it would get the chance to heal, Beck would tear the scab off and thrust a knife deep into the tender part.
I rested my elbows on my desk and dropped my head into my hands as I breathed through the pain and vowed never to let him flay me like that again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Brooke
Later that afternoon, Jordie stuck his head in my office and asked me to come down to the conference room. I grabbed my coffee mug and walked down the hall to join them. Alma had made yet another fresh pot of coffee and I silently thanked her for keeping us caffeinated.
"What's up?" I asked as I walked into the room.
"Come sit down and listen to what we've got," Jordie said. He was holding a stack of papers that looked like they'd been stuffed in the bottom of a backpack.
"Okay, lay it on me, guys," I said as I sat down and prepared to hear their game plan. Jordie looked at Roger and nodded.
"Alright, well, we've gone through Lydia's client list and narrowed it down to the top ten clients we think we might be able to attract," Roger began.
"Just ten?" I asked with mock surprise.
"Well, we've got another ten backups just in case these don't work out," Roger said. "But we t
hought that if we went after more than ten it would look suspicious."
"Oh, and mining a dead lawyer's client list the day after she's pulled out of the water isn't at all suspicious?" I said.
"There's no need for sarcasm, Brooke," Jordie warned. He was right, but I was thinking about how all of this would play out in the papers. Especially since I'd be the face of the firm.
"I know, I'm just thinking ahead," I said. "You guys have thought about how this is going to play out, right?"
"Yep, we certainly have," Roger said. "That's why we've got a schedule for how each of these clients should be approached and an individual plan for how we can put ourselves in the path of client so that it doesn't look fishy."
"Seriously, Roger?" I said incredulously.
"What? Too soon?" he said with a crooked grin.
"Definitely too soon," Jordie piped in. "Okay, so what we're going to do is fan out and do a wide sweep of the client list. Roger and I are good for the clubs and parties since we're already well-known on the circuit."
"I guess your wild ways will come in handy, after all," I said with a wry grin.
"I told you we were laying the ground for something important," Roger insisted. I wanted to smack the goofy grin off of his face, but I knew he was completely serious, so I let it pass.
"So, where do I come in?" I asked.
"We want you to land the big fish," Jordie said as he handed me a crisp sheet of paper that contained three names. I looked at it and inhaled sharply. "I know it's asking a lot for you to try and talk with these people, but we figured that with your dad's connections you might be the one best suited to approach them."
"Jesus, Jordie, are you serious?" I asked.
"Deadly," he replied. "If we can land one of those three, then we'll be set for at least a year, and the publicity alone will give us a high profile and attract more clients."
"You're talking about vying for one of three different high profile businessmen in LA," I said. "Don't you think that they might be wary of the fact that we'd offer to represent their rivals?"
"We thought about that," Roger said. "And, we decided that it's more of a push game. We play them off of each other and then pick the one that shows the most promise."