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“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I say, watching a woman try on a necklace so ugly she should be paid to wear it. She glances into the mirror arranged on the counter and beams at her reflection. “My new boss is too enthusiastic. I don’t understand how he survived law school.”
“I’m glad you got the job,” he says, smiling at me. “I knew something would work out.”
I let out a gruff laugh, feeling like shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe. “I didn’t share your confidence.”
“But you still left the firm. I know Burke’s grateful for it.”
He’s right about that. But I almost stayed, even though Burke’s been my friend for more than half my life. What does that say about me?
What does it say about me that I regret leaving?
Or that I’m willing to move forward with this marriage?
Nothing good, obviously.
“Have they set a trial date, yet?” he asks.
I squirm a little in the chair, even though it is, as advertised, very comfortable. “No. My old paralegal said she’d let me know.”
Rachel is sixty and takes no shit from anyone, myself included. Even though I palled around with the other guys at the firm, and we always got scotch and cigars together after winning a case, none of them have kept in touch. Fear of Myles has them quaking in their boots, but Rachel couldn’t give a shit. She was reassigned to work with one of the other guys, who doesn’t know his ass from his elbow by her assessment, and she’s kept me updated on the goings-on. She believes the Burkes will lose their case, so that’s something.
Danny nods several times, then rubs his forehead. There are a couple of Band-aids around his fingers. He sees me glancing at them and sighs. “That hamster’s an asshole, but he seems to like Mira most of the time.”
I laugh. “Well, your sister’s dog pissed on me, so you’re in good company.”
He gives me a weird look as Michael comes by with a tray. He gave us heavy pours on the scotch, which is both good policy on his part—a drunk man won’t hold onto his wallet too carefully—and also a relief.
I just messed up.
Michael serves us the scotch, beaming, and says, “I’ll be right out with the first board. I have a feeling you’re going to like one of these.”
“Probably not me,” Danny mutters, “but I’m not the one who needs to like it.”
“Of course, of course,” Michael says, backing away and bowing as if Danny’s a king or mafia don who might shoot him in the back.
“When were you at Ruthie’s?” Danny asks. “I just found out about the dog over the weekend.”
I take a sip of the scotch, find it good, and think as fast as my neurons will fire. I can’t tell him the full truth, but I won’t flat-out lie.
“Ruthie and I are helping each other with something. She doesn’t want to talk about it yet, so I can’t say much more. But we’ll tell you everything this weekend.”
He looks as surprised as if I’d actually admitted his sister and I are getting married tomorrow. “You’re working on something together? Willingly? Does this have to do with Vanny?”
“Not directly,” I admit. “But I do want to help her with that.”
It’s not a lie, and I will help her if she’ll let me. I hate that she’s given so little thought to her bottom line.
A lesser man would push me for details, but Danny slowly nods. “Okay, man. I’m glad you two are getting along.”
More laughter bursts from me. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I think this will be mutually beneficial from a business standpoint.”
“So I’m guessing her dog pissed on one of your suits?” he asks with a slight smile.
“Yes, my second best.”
I’d saved my best for the wedding, figuring it would be good luck to hold out, which is as far as I’m willing to venture down the path of superstition.
“Tough break.” He shakes his head slightly. “You know she’s a bit allergic to dogs, right?”
