AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She shouts something that’s lost in the sound of cab horns and the subway running beneath my feet. I’m pretty sure she used at least one expletive, and I’m almost certain she doesn’t make cupcakes for a living. There’s a good chance she also likes birds.
I head to my office but not without casting one last glance at the curvy, stubborn woman with the sweetest damn smile I’ve ever seen. She has crossed the road but turns to look right back at me. I raise my coffee and shake my head.
Crazy, indecisive Brit. Manhattan is going to eat her alive.
* * *
‘Holy crap, you’re smiling. Is the world about to end? Give it to me straight.’
Meet Sarah, my overpaid legal secretary whom I couldn’t live without. She falls into step beside me as we head from the elevators to my office: the corner office, on the fifth of five floors the firm owns in the building. Incidentally, the top floor of Lexington Tower, also known as ‘where the gods sit.’
I straighten my lips. ‘Are my briefs ready?’
‘They’re already at court with your associate.’
‘Good. I need you to file the Donatella application for me by eleven, latest, so that I can—’
‘Already done.’
We step through the glass door into my office. ‘Good. Is my tie crooked?’
Sarah stands in front of me and tugs on my tie, wiggles the knot, then sets it right. ‘Better,’ she says, patting my chest.
‘Do I look like I’m going to kick ass?’
She winks. ‘Damn straight.’ With the dramatic flair only she possesses, she turns on her stiletto heel and struts out of my office, flicking her long, brunette waves across her shoulder as she goes.
Thirty-five minutes later, I’m pulling up outside the courthouse. I fasten one button of my suit jacket as I step onto the sidewalk, almost in sync with Charles Wickman. He’s the lead attorney for the US Securities and Exchange Commission, more commonly known as a spineless jackass. Oh, and the guy I’ll be facing in court today as he tries, and inevitably will fail, to put my client behind bars.
Wickman finishes the bite of breakfast roll he’s chewing. ‘Ah, if it isn’t the infamous Drew Harrington.’
The guy has one of those faces. You know, the type you want to smack and watch rebound into your fist over and over again like a speed bag. We studied at Columbia Law School together. He was a nerd back then. Realistically, he still is. But four years ago, he made his name taking out a big city gun in front of a grand jury. Since then, he’s been slicking his greasy hair to the side and strutting around Manhattan like he runs the place.
‘Wickman, I see they let you out of your pen.’
‘Make all the jokes you want, Harrington. Let’s see who’s laughing when your guy is sitting behind bars.’ He finishes his sentence with a sniff, flicking a knuckle under his nostrils. He could be wiping away a crumb. More likely, he’s just being a pretentious dick.
‘The only joke is that you think my guy will end up behind bars.’ I take a step toward him, close enough that I can smell egg on his breath. ‘I don’t lose, Wickman. I’m the best goddamn defense money can buy.’
‘There’s a first time for everything.’
I lean closer so that passersby won’t hear when I tell him, ‘There is. And by the way, after the trial, if you still have a problem, we can always step outside to discuss it.’
For some insane reason, I want to finish that statement with,Shove that in your bagel and eat it.
2
DREW
‘A toast. To the most ruthless son of a bitch in the state.’
I raise my glass of scotch level with Marty’s. That’s Marty Statham, by the way. Of Statham Turner. The named partner who will end up backing me to get my name on the door one day. And one of my closest friends.
We met when I was new to the firm and he was a jumped-up associate who thought he could order me around. It was the definition of a love-hate relationship. We both hated each other and… Nope, it was just a hate relationship and we eventually came to respect each other. The thing is, if you spend enough hours locked in a glass tower together, respect and a good working relationship eventually blur the line between business and friendship. A mutual love of sports and good liquor got us a long way.
‘Ah, Jesus, Drew, Wickman didn’t know what hit him. You came at him so hard and fast, he didn’t even see your turbo ass blazing right by him to the finish line.’
‘You say that like I was ever behind him in the race.’ I sip my fine single malt on the rocks.
