The news is good, or I think it is, until the partners tell me they’ll revisit my employment after my ridiculous case is over.
No pressure.
“I’m totally committed to the firm,” I tell them. “It’s just that . . . I wish this weren’t the case I was being judged on. I’d rather be judged on the other work I’ve done so far, like the Krielig case.”
Jacoby speaks in that accent that hits just south of British and just north of Bostonian. He’s lived in St. Louis his whole life, so one has to wonder . . .
“There is no unimportant case,” he says. “We’re quite aware that the Darco case is challenging, but Steve Darco’s father is one of our biggest clients, billing in the millions each year, and as small as this is, it’s important. If we were to upset him and lose his business, well . . . all of our jobs would be in jeopardy.”
“Yes, of course.” I don’t mention that it’s odd that they didn’t assign a single partner to this case since it’s so important. But it’s probably because none of them wants to become a laughingstock.
Southerby shoves his unlit cigarette into his mouth and talks around it. I wonder if he sucked a pacifier until he was in middle school.
“Meanwhile, you need to absorb some of the cases the other associates are working on after we notify them that they’re leaving.”
I narrow my eyes. “Can you tell me how many you’re letting go?”
“Nope,” he says. “You’ll know by day’s end.”
“I’m very committed, Mr. Southerby. I will stay long hours and work weekends, even during the Christmas holidays. You’ll see that I have the stamina of ten people.” I can see right away from their expressions that I’ve oversold myself.
“You’ll have to,” Southerby says. “We all will.”
My hands are shaking as I leave the room. I can’t regulate the adrenaline surging through my body now. Coffee will make it worse, but I’m so tired that I need it, so I stop by the break room that is a ghost town right now. I guess everyone is trying to look committed as they wait to be called.
As I get back to my office, Joanie rushes in, her arms full of files. “We’re still here,” she whispers. “I can’t believe it. Imagine being let go because you worked second chair to the worst lawyer in the firm and he messed up the case.”
“Craig was let go?”
“Yes. They escorted him out. It was brutal.”
“Life’s not fair.”
“No, but right now it seems fair to us. I got the Boliver case and the Hilton case, which is interesting because they both have court dates on the same day. I’ll have to get a stay on one of them if I can’t get them to settle.”
I sip my coffee, though the cup trembles in my hand. “I’m only here until they see how I do on the worst case this firm has ever taken to court.”
Joanie covers her mouth and breathes a horrified laugh. “I know it’s not funny.”
“No, my friend, it is not.” My phone vibrates again. “The doctor! I have to take this!” I click it on. “This is Sydney Clifton.”
“This is Dr. Patrick,” the man says.
“Dr. Patrick! Your voice is the most wonderful sound in the world. I want to kiss you!”
He chuckles. “Well, not what I expected.”
“I’ve been calling about my grandmother, Callie Beecher. I wanted to bring her, but we had a huge meeting at my law firm today in which they told us that they’re downsizing some of us, and we’ve been working like dogs to appear committed, so I sent her in a cab and I don’t know if she got there or not, but—”
I guess I’m going on too long, because he interrupts me. “Your grandmother was here.”
“She’s not herself,” I blurt. “I wrote her symptoms on a piece of paper in her purse, but she may have forgotten to give them to you.”
“She didn’t give them to us, but we observed some of the problems, and we ran some blood work and a few other tests. She has a UTI so I’ve prescribed her some antibiotics. UTIs do cause confusion sometimes.”
“Have you gotten results from any of the other tests yet?”
“Not yet. I’m concerned about some of the other symptoms we’re seeing, but I need all the results before I can conclude anything.”
I look down at the stack of files, then my gaze drifts toward the glass wall, where the partners have clustered in the hallway and are talking in hushed tones. Joanie has already slipped back out.
“I’ll call you when I get the results,” he says. “We may need to do more tests.”
“Okay, sure. Do you think she’ll be all right?”
“We’ll talk later, when I know more.”
I’m a little disturbed as I hang up, but I have to push it out of my mind. I have to focus on the court case that starts tomorrow. My opening statement isn’t finished. What I want to say is that the plaintiff brought a boatload of alcohol to a dorm party, got drunk, then crashed into the BK. End of story.
That probably won’t help with my job security. I really need to change my attitude by morning.