Elizabeth stared at the case files in her hand in disbelief. He’s sticking me with the trash again, she thought angrily. Her fingers crinkled the edge of the pages as she turned them, but she couldn’t focus on loosening her grip while she was still breathing the same air as her boss. Condescending prick.
“Of course you’ll be paid handsomely,” Donald was saying in his lazy Tennessee drawl. “The agent has booked you for the duration. Simple drug charge, accusation of using performance enhancers, stripped of his titles, all that.”
“Why do we care if this cowboy is doping?” Elizabeth raised her eyes to Donald’s toadyish face, and he flinched at the sharpness of her tone. “That has nothing to do with us.”
“The drugs in question are an illegal concoction currently being evaluated for classification under Schedule I narcotics.” Donald blinked again. “You know, drugs that have no medical use by law.”
“Like crack?” Elizabeth asked. “He was using something like crack to improve his performance?”
“I am not a chemist,” Donald said impatiently, waving his fat hands in front of him as though the distinction was a simple case of semantics. “I don’t know. What I do know is this will be a very easy case for you, and a nice paycheck to pad this month out. All you have to do is make sure this fella gets scared straight, so to speak, and you’ve got yourself a few car payments for an Audi R8.”
Elizabeth knew her face was starting to harden into a mask of contempt. “With all due respect, I don’t want easy. That’s not why I became a lawyer. Why am I never assigned to a case with an outcome that actually matters?”
“I resent that!” Donald said, and he sounded very mildly scandalized. “I have personally handed you many cases that got your name in the paper.” He fiddled at the buttons on his suit nervously as he spoke, his beady eyes darting around the corridor as though he was afraid of being overheard.
“Those were vanity cases that did nothing to help the community,” Elizabeth countered. She folded her arms, even though she knew her green pantsuit might crease from the action. “I want to make a difference! I don’t want to sit around and look pretty!”
“That’s unfortunate,” Donald said pleasantly. “You do it so well. But I have no doubt that this case is going to surprise you with its depth. I think Mr. Brighton is going to bring a lot of attention to our little town, and then you’ll be moving on in no time.”
He didn’t give her any time to respond to his last remark; it was probably for the best, since nothing that came to mind would have done Elizabeth’s career any good. She uncrossed her arms and looked down to see her hands shaking with rage, had to close her eyes and take three deep breaths in a row before they slowed their trembling. I have to get out of this job, she mused. I’m not going to live to see thirty five this way. As she watched Donald Douglass’ wide body disappear around the corner, she wondered how someone so full of corruption and laziness could possibly ascend to the position of District Attorney; then again, most of her co-workers weren’t any better. She remembered clearly being shunned for her first two weeks on the job, until Donald stepped in to make everyone stop their open hostility toward her.
Though the town was slowly filling up with hipsters and their ilk to replace the dwindling baby boomer population, it was at a grueling place that simply wasn’t fast enough for her. The weight of being the only black lawyer in Claiborne, Tennessee was starting to crush her spirit, and it wasn’t going to get better unless she tried to do something about it.
Maybe I can check some of the ads from the papers near the bigger cities, Elizabeth thought as she made her way through the courthouse. I can’t stay here much longer, not if I want to have my own practice one day. It had been three years, but the constantly polished floors of her three story court building were finally starting to look blackened with the slime that crawled through. Donald himself had supervised cases that saw drug barons walk away without so much as a slap on the wrist. It was more than just tiresome now, and it had been implied that she would lose more than her good reputation for speaking up; the words “replaceable” had been thrown around more than once. She’d made some connections between law school and the present, so it should be easier than it was before to find a position. She would just have to consider moving, maybe even out of state.
As Elizabeth entered the main hall to exit the building, something caught her eye at the edge of her vision. She turned her head to the right, and the man that had been staring at her turned around abruptly and walked in the other direction. She froze, fear flooding her body as she tried to identify the squat man in the brown suit that no one else was acknowledging as he fled deeper into the courthouse. He looked over his shoulder once more as he entered an elevator, and the bright blue eyes called a name from the back of her mind immediately: Dale Cunnings, the Mayor’s aide. Disgusting creep. Mayor Hare had requested her help with an anti-drug crusade two weeks before, and when she’d refused, Dale tried to win her over with his masculine charm. Unfortunately for Dale, Elizabeth knew how to spot a sleaze ball on sight, and she brutally rebuffed him until she threatened him with a restraining order. She hadn’t been serious, but it had worked—or so she thought. If Dale was following her again, maybe she really would need to get that restraining order. She smiled when she thought of his potential reaction to the paperwork, and it lifted her spirits significantly.
The sun was almost blinding in its brilliance, but Elizabeth thought it was just because she’d been in the courthouse since before dawn, like always, finishing up the remaining bit of paperwork from the last week. She represented two young shoplifters whose fathers bought their way out of serving time and scored them a few hours of community service. She was glad to see the end of the case; the teens had been rude on top of unrepentant, and she was sure she would see them again if she stuck around Claiborne. The types of teenagers she wanted to help weren’t born with silver spoons in their mouths, or at least didn’t take them for granted.
The drive back to her house was short, since most people were already at work or school at nine thirty; Elizabeth loved driving her little Honda through the empty surface streets and counting all the elderly couples walking hand and hand past all the kitschy looking storefronts on Main street. The shops were all covered with fake wood paneling in front so that the town looked more “Old Western,” helping to draw in travelers. In the middle of March, there were few tourists drifting across their paths, so the shoppers were mostly stay at home mothers or teenagers ditching school. By the time she pulled into the driveway of her two bedroom house, she’d only counted three couples, and one hunch-backed old man with a bright green cane making his way into the bank.
A soft chime sounded when Elizabeth walked into her darkened living room, startling her even though the sound was low; she started to panic before she remembered it was just the answering machine attached to the ancient landline she’d had installed. Her cellphone service would sometimes fade out in parts of town, and when her mailbox got full, there was no other way to reach her. Apparently, she had forgotten to clear her messages again. She walked across the room to punch the glowing red button and collapse into the easy chair next to the phone and began taking off her shoes.
Beep. “It’s Matty. I was just wondering how you’re doing...maybe we could meet up for a drink? Call me; let me know how you are.”
“Not nearly desperate enough to call you back,” Elizabeth said under her breath as she nervously tugged on the loose coils of her hair. I have to get this re-weaved, she thought absentmindedly. Maybe next week, in case I get in an interview.
Beep. “It’s Douglass. Chase’s agent wants you to meet with him this evening, six pm. Don’t be late!”
Dammit. She’d have to meet with him before she got a chance to line up another job; she’d been hoping the arena cowboy would drag his feet since his trial wasn’t set to begin for another few weeks. Why was he so eager? Guys like him got off so easy they often never had time to feel anxiety before they were out the door again. God knows she’d had enough arrogance for one lifetime, and Chase Brighton was probably so coated in it you couldn’t keep his grip in a handshake. Maybe I should just turn down this case, she thought desperately. But they’d probably try to fire me before I could quit.
She opened her phone and caught sight of a headline from a news app on her home screen: HARE’S HARASSMENT WOES, read the block letters. The article detailed the dozens of sexual harassment lawsuits brought against Mayor Hare, many of which were settled out of court. It was just one more horrifying reason to get out of this town. I wish there were some way to take him out with me.
Elizabeth stripped down to her panties and climbed under her sheets for a quick nap, vowing to search the want ads for a few hours before she had to go meet with her new client. If she was lucky, maybe she’d have something by the end of that week. If she was really lucky, perhaps the end of the day.
And if luck had any real weight in this world at all, you’d have never been in this town in the first place, Elizabeth thought. Seconds later, she was fast asleep.