“You’re one of the best lawyers around, Sandy, everybody says so.”
“Shit, I haven’t practiced law in years.”
“Whatever works for you.”
“What works for you, Jack?”
Jack felt a slight but perceptible clinch in his gut as he heard his name pass through Lord’s lips. It suggested a coming intimacy that had startled him, despite Jack’s knowledge of its inevitability. Partner? Jack took a breath and shrugged.
“Who knows what they want to be when they grow up?”
“But see you are grown up, Jack, and it’s time to pay the man at the door. So what’s it gonna be?”
“I’m not following this.”
Lord leaned in again, hands clenched, like a heavyweight pressing the exchange, looking for the tiniest opening. Indeed, for a moment, an attack seemed imminent. Jack tensed.
“You think I’m an asshole don’t you?”
Jack picked up his menu again. “Recommend anything?”
“Come on, kid, you think I’m a greedy, egocentric, power-happy asshole who doesn’t give a shit about anything or anybody that can’t do something for me. Ain’t that right, Jack!” Lord’s voice was rising, his thick body half out of his chair. He pushed Jack’s menu back down to the table.
Jack nervously scanned the room, but no one seemed to be paying attention, which meant every word of the exchange was being carefully absorbed and dissected. Lord’s red eyes focused directly on Jack’s, pulling them to him.
“I am, you know. That’s exactly what I am, Jack.”
Lord settled back in his chair, triumphant. He grinned. Jack felt inclined to smile in spite of the repulsiveness.
Jack relaxed a notch. Almost as if sensing that slight release, Lord slid his chair over next to Jack’s, crowding him. For a moment Jack seriously contemplated decking the older man — enough was enough.
“That’s right, I’m all those things, Jack, all those things and more, much more. But you know what, Jack? That’s who I am. I don’t try to disguise it or explain it. Every sonofabitch that has ever met me has come away knowing exactly who and what I was. I believe in what I do. There’s no bullshit there.” Lord took a deep breath, and then slowly let it out. Jack shook his head, trying to clear it.
“What about you, Jack?”
“What about me?”
“Who are you, Jack? What do you believe in, if anything?”
“I’ve got twelve years of Catholic school, I’ve got to believe in something.”
Lord shook his head wearily. “You’re disappointing me. I heard you were a bright kid. Either my reports are wrong, or you’ve got that shit-eating grin on your face because you’re afraid of what you might say.”
Jack grasped Lord’s wrist in a viselike grip.
“What the fuck do you want from me?”
Lord smiled and gently tapped Jack’s hand until the grip was released.
“You like these kinds of places? With Baldwin as a client you’ll be eating in places like this until your arteries are hard as drill bits. In about forty years, you’ll keel over in some sand trap in the Caribbean and leave behind some young and suddenly rich third-time-around honey; but you’ll die happy, believe me.”
“One place is the same as another to me.”
Lord’s hand came down hard on the table. This time several heads did turn. The maitre d’ glanced in their direction, trying to conceal his apprehension behind his thick mustache and quiet air of competence.
“That’s my whole goddamned point, son, that goddamned ambivalence of yours.” His voice lowered, but he continued to lean into Jack, crowding him. “One place is definitely not the same as another. You have the key to this place, you know. Your key is Baldwin and that nice-looking daughter of his. Now the question becomes: will you or won’t you open that door? Which query interestingly enough leads us right back to my original question. What do you believe in, Jack? Because if you do not believe in this” — Lord spread his arms wide — “if you do not want to become the Sandy Lord of the next generation, if you wake up at night and laugh at or curse my little idiosyncrasies, my assholeness if you will, if you really and truly believe you are above that, if you really hate whaling away at Ms. Baldwin and if you don’t see one single item on that menu that you care for, then why don’t you tell me to fuck off? And get up and walk out that door there, your head high, your conscience clear, and your beliefs intact? Because frankly this game is far too important and intensely played for the uncommitted.”
Lord slumped back in his chair, his mass extrapolating outward until it fully engulfed the space.
Outside the restaurant a truly beautiful fall day was unfolding. Neither rain nor excessive humidity marred the blue sky’s perfectness; the gentle breeze rustled discarded newspapers. The torrid pace of the city seemed to have momentarily slowed a notch. Down the street at LaFayette Park, sunseekers lay in the grass, hoping for a few more moments of tan before the really cold weather set in. Bike messengers on break prowled the area looking for unconcealed legs and blouses open just a peek.
Inside the restaurant Jack Graham and Sandy Lord were staring at each other.
“You don’t pull any punches do you?”
“I don’t have time for that, Jack. Not for the last twenty years. If I didn’t believe you could handle the direct approach, I would’ve just bullshit with you and let it go.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“All I want to know is whether you’re in or out. The truth is, with Baldwin, you could go to any other shop in town. You chose us, I’m presuming, because you like what you saw.”
“Baldwin recommended you.”
“He’s a smart man. Lots of people would follow his lead. You’ve been with us one year. If you choose to stay, you’ll be made a partner. Frankly, the twelve-month wait was purely a formality, to see if we were a good fit. After that you will never have any financial concerns, not counting your future wife’s considerable monies. Your main occupation will be to keep Baldwin happy, and to expand that piece of business, and to bring in anybody else you can. Because let’s face it, Jack, the only security any lawyer has are the clients he controls. They never tell you that in law school and it’s the most important lesson you have to learn. Never, never lose sight of that fact. Even doing the work should take a back seat to that. There’ll always be bodies to do the work. You will be given carte blanche to chase more business. You will have no one supervising you, except Baldwin. You will not have to monitor the legal work being done for Baldwin, we have others who will do that for you. All in all, not such a terrible life.”
Jack looked down at his hands. Jennifer’s face appeared there. So perfect. He felt guilty for having assumed she had had Barry Alvis fired. Then he thought of the numbing hours as a PD. His thoughts finally turned to Kate, and then quickly stopped. What was there? The answer was nothing. He looked up.
“Stupid question. Do I get to keep practicing law?”
“If that’s what you want.” Lord eyed him closely. “So do I take that as a yes?”
Jack glanced down at the menu. “The crab cakes look good.”
Sandy exhaled smoke to the ceiling and smiled broadly. “I love ’em, Jack. I goddamn love ’em.”
Two hours later, Sandy stood in the corner of his massive office suite staring out onto the busy street below, while a conference call plodded forward on the speaker phone.
Dan Kirksen walked in the door, his stiff bow tie and crisp shirt concealing a slender jogger’s body. Kirksen was the firm’s managing partner. He had unwavering control over everyone in the place except Sandy Lord. And now perhaps Jack Graham.
Lord glanced at him with uninterested eyes. Kirksen sat down and waited patiently until the conference call participants said their good-byes. Lord clicked the phone off and sat down in his chair. Leaning back, he eyed the ceiling and lit up. Kirksen, a health fanatic, inched back from the desk.