I looked through the window, seeing that the bailiff was handing her a box of Kleenex.
“Are you on a new prescription?” she asked. “Drinking? Smoking something other than Cubans?”
“Because I’m having one bad day in court?”
“Because you’ve had several bad days in court.”
“I don’t recall calling any of my other witnesses f**king liars…”
“You called for an objection during the reading of a verdict.”
“Maybe I didn’t like the sound of it.”
“Maybe, but you never mess up in my court.” She paused. “Ever…Please go get yourself checked out, Mr. Hamilton. I’d really hate to be the judge presiding over your very first loss.”
She motioned for me to follow her out of her chambers. She took a seat in her chair and announced that the current trial was being postponed due to a rare rule brought up by the defense, and that we would reconvene two weeks from now.
Relieved, I closed my briefcase and ignored a red-faced Miss Everly.
“Mr. Bach,” she said, glaring at me, “I would really like for us to win this case, so could you please—”
“It’s already taken care of,” he said, cutting her off. “No worries.” He gave her a reassuring smile and asked Mr. Greenwood to walk her out to her car. Then he turned and looked at me.
“Andrew, Andrew, Andrew…” He sighed. “I think you need some time off. I’ll take over this case, alright? And Mr. Greenwood and I will be in contact with any of your clients who have cases within the next few weeks.”
“You’re overreacting,” I said. “It’s one f**king case.”
“One f**king case that you’re on the verge of losing.”
“I never lose.”
“I know.” He patted me on the shoulder. “Go home, Andrew. You’ve actually never taken a vacation anyway. Maybe it’s what you need right now.”
“No.” I grabbed my briefcase. “I’ll see you at the Reber consultation tomorrow morning.”
He called after me, but I ignored him. I sped back to GBH, prepared to immerse myself in more work. I was avoiding my condo as much as possible lately; I could hardly stand to be there.
Unopened condoms lined my wet bar—a reminder of how long it’d been since I had pu**y, empty liquor bottles lined all of my window sills, and my Cuban cigar selection was long gone.
“Are you okay, Mr. Hamilton?” the main secretary asked as I walked through the firm’s doors.
I ignored her. Too many people were asking me that question lately and I was tired of hearing it.
I shut myself inside my office and pulled my phone’s chord out of the wall. I didn’t need any distractions.
For the rest of the morning, I read over my files in utter silence—not even answering emails from my own clients.
“Jessica!” I called her once the clock struck noon. “Jessica!”
“Yes, Mr. Hamilton?” She walked in right away.
“Is there any reason why you suddenly decided to stop organizing my case files by date?” I slid a folder across the desk. “Any reason why you’ve decided to stop doing your goddamn job?”
“You think I actually have time to organize all your case files by date? Do you know how long that takes?” She raised her eyebrow. “That was Miss Everhart’s idea. I told her it was a waste of time, but I guess not. If I have some free hours in between the Doherty case next week I’ll try to do that.”
“Thank you.” I ignored the fact that my heart skipped a beat when she said Miss Everhart. “You can get out of my office now.”
I pulled the papers from the file and began reorganizing them. As I clipped all of the witness testimonies together, Jessica cleared her throat.