Justine
I thank the powers that be I had to scrounge together enough business attire last summer to work at Legal Aid, because without this black skirt suit and pressed white blouse, I’d be feeling majorly out of place as I walk through the doors of Grant Bentham Beckett and ask the receptionist behind the big granite desk where I can find Vito Richards.
As she puts in a call, I wait in the modern leather seating area and watch the stock quotes stream along the bottom of a flat-screen TV on the wall. The talking heads are muted but it wouldn’t matter anyway, because Mr. Richards doesn’t leave me waiting long.
“Ms. Porter,” he says, hand outstretched. “It’s great to meet you in person. Justice Grant has had so many great things to say about you.”
I shake his offered hand. “Thank you. I’m really excited to be here.”
And that’s no lie. I truly am excited, despite the crushing nerves. This job is going to go a long way toward paying off my debt, and that’s what matters right now.
He drops me off for orientation, and I spend hours filling out forms for HR and learning the computer system and programs. When I think my head’s going to explode with all the information, Vito Richards opens the door to the orientation room and steps inside.
“Glad you’re still here! I figured we would’ve scared you off with all the details.”
I adopt a cheery smile, hoping like hell he can’t tell how completely overwhelmed I am. “Of course not. I think I’ve got it all.”
Richards nods. “Great. I’ll walk you out and we can talk about your schedule.”
I follow him out as he confirms what hours I can work and whether I want to try to work more hours than I did at the library. We pause at a cluster of chairs and a coffee table in the lobby, and I write down the hours he’s hoping I can squeeze in. After a mental check of my schedule, I assure him it can work.
Altogether, I’ll be putting in about fifteen hours per week, and maybe twenty if they decide to have me work some weekends. It’s not many more hours than I’d work at the library, but I’m going to have to cut out of school as soon as class is over to hustle my butt downtown to get to work on time.
And without a car . . . that means I’m going to be at the mercy of the bus system unless I ask for a ride. Since asking for help has never been a strong quality of mine, it’ll more than likely be the bus.
Not a big deal, I reassure myself. I got this.
Day two at Grant Bentham Beckett is my first actual work day. I had an eight o’clock class and made it here by eleven. Ryker wouldn’t hear of me taking the bus, and dropped me off.
He pressed a kiss to my lips before I slid out of the car. “They’re going to love you.”
His words of confidence buoyed me through the doors and up the elevator to my new office.
Attorneys have the offices along the outside of the hallway with windows to the outside. Legal secretaries have cubicles running down the white interior hallway, and paralegals and research assistants have tiny interior offices with no windows, but at least we have doors. It comes through loud and clear as a design to reinforce the hierarchy around here. Ryker’s mention of firm politics hovers at the forefront of my mind all day.
Vito’s office is directly across the hall from my interior office, which is tucked behind the secretarial cubicle. I stash my bag in my office and retrieve a notepad and pen from my desk drawer before sticking my head in the doorway.
“Come on in, Justine. I was just talking to Ron about the projects we want to have you start on today,” he says as I knock and peek my head inside the open door.
I enter the office, smiling at the man across the desk from Vito, and take a seat in the remaining vacant chair when Vito nods to it. He introduces me to Ron Lane, a fellow appellate partner I’ll be supporting with research.
“We’ve got some exciting projects for you to work on, ones that we hope you’ll find interesting and engaging.”
He spends the next twenty minutes outlining the facts of the major case he’s working on, and I scribble furiously on my notepad to make sure I don’t miss any details. I ask a few questions to ensure I understand the issues, but it’s pretty straightforward. My electronic research skills are excellent, so I don’t think I’ll have any trouble tracking down cases for him.
When he flips the file closed, I’m poised to stand, but Vito isn’t finished.
“I also have another case I’d like you to help with, even though the issues aren’t typically something we handle.”
Interest piqued, I flip to a new page on my notepad. “Whatever you need, sir. I’m happy to help.”
“This one is a favor for a friend of a friend, and actually probably hits quite close to home for you.”
I frown, wondering what kind of case he would have that would hit close to home for me.
“This isn’t technically an appeal we’re handling, but I said I’d look into any grounds for an appeal in a drunk-driving case that one of your fellow students got caught up in.”
Chad. He has to be talking about Chad.
Vito’s right, this one does hit close to home for me, even though Chad is gone and uncommunicative. Every text I’ve sent to check in on him has gone unanswered since the e-mail where he told me he was dropping out.
I know our friendship wasn’t the strongest lately, but with our history, I expected a little more. But if there’s a chance I can help him in any way, you better believe I’m going to do it, whether he wants my help or not.
“Whatever research you need, I’m your girl,” I say, hoping it’ll encourage him to move on more quickly to the details.
“As you probably know, Chad France was convicted of a DUI this past summer based on an accident that took place right after finals.”
There’s no way I could ever forget. “I remember.”
“He worked for a friend of mine who asked for a favor, but doesn’t want to get involved due to conflict issues. I told him we’d review the case for potential grounds for appeal. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth another read. I’d like you to review the file and the court transcripts. Our best shot is finding a procedural error at this stage.” He nods to a file box on the floor.
Oh, wow. No pressure there or anything, Justine. For Chad, I’ll read everything three times just to make sure I don’t miss anything.
“Do you have any ideas about what I should be looking for? I’ve taken Criminal Law and Criminal Procedure, but I’m no expert on procedural grounds for appeals in this situation.”
“Just read through the files and see if anything stands out to you. The details are all there. I’ll set up some time with one of the partners in the criminal law group, and he can give you a rundown on some of the most common errors and what you should be looking for.”
That’s exactly what I was hoping he’d say. Find me an expert I can ask a million questions. I’ll do my best, Chad. I promise.
“Okay. That sounds good. Thank you.”
“These are going to be great cases for you to cut your teeth on. Let me know if you have any questions as you dig in. Work on Chad’s case whenever you get some downtime. It’s not your first priority, but we’ll do what we can.”
“Understood. I’ll get to them both; don’t worry.”
He smiles before I leave the office, lugging the heavy box of files.
I waste no time once I’m back in my little white-and-beige cave. I’m sucked into my research and don’t pull myself away until my stomach is grumbling and my watch says it’s time to go home. But I can’t leave without at least starting to look at Chad’s case, so I flip the lid off the box. Dozens of file folders stand upright, and it’s crazy to think that the fate of my childhood friend was decided among these pages.
The night at the bar comes back vividly in my memory. If Chad hadn’t gotten hit and arrested, I wouldn’t have needed help from Ryker. He wouldn’t have kissed me. He wouldn’t have stood me up. I wish I could erase it all for Chad’s sake, but it’s still crazy to think of how different things could have been. But then again, I have to believe that Ryker would have asked me out again. Would I have kept resisting?
Vito sticks his head into my office, interrupting my musings. “You should head home, Justine. You don’t want to be the last one in the office on your first day. You’ll be setting the standards pretty damn high.”
“Sorry, I was just thinking about looking through Chad’s case before I left. I would love to be able to find something helpful, and sooner rather than later.”
“Save it for tomorrow. It’s not going anywhere. What happened to him really was a crap deal. Only a fraction of a percentage over the legal limit, and he probably never would’ve been picked up had it not been for the driver who ran the light and hit him.” Vito pauses. “I’m not saying he didn’t commit the crime, but it’s just hard to see a kid, who by all accounts was smart and a hard worker, go through something like this.”
I nod, because I couldn’t have said it better. I hated that this happened to him. “I’ll dig through everything and see if anything stands out. When can I talk to someone in the criminal law group?”
“I’ll set that up for later this week. Now, get out of here.”
I’m heading down the stairs, my bag over my shoulder, when my phone vibrates in my hand.
RYKER: I’m outside. I’m taking you to dinner.
My mouth tugs wide with a smile as I tap out my reply.
JUSTINE: I’m not going to argue with that.
RYKER: Then get your sweet ass down here.
JUSTINE: On my way.
Everything else fades away as I head out of the building and see him waiting for me at the curb.