Randy Singer - The Justice Game

The office furniture arrived just before noon-two hours late-and Jason directed its placement while simultaneously meeting with representatives from the phone company and broadband provider. By 2 p.m., he had moved most of his legal files from his truck to the floor of his office, just in time to start the five back-to-back interviews he had scheduled.

The week before, Jason had placed want ads for a legal assistant in the bar association newsletter and local paper. Of the first three candidates, only one had any legal experience, and that was twelve years of real estate closings. One of the three candidates tried way too hard, giggling incessantly, the second had the personality of a tree stump, and the third, the one with real estate experience, spent too much time asking about disability, sick leave, and personal days. “I can’t work weekends or evenings,” she said, as if the job were already hers.

You won’t have to worry about that, Jason thought.

The fourth candidate, Tami Pershing, walked off the cover of Runway magazine and into Jason’s small conference room, rendering him speechless. She wore a short skirt and tight-fitting sweater and looked Jason right in the eye when they shook hands. Even factoring in the heels, she must have been nearly six feet tall.

Tami had an associate’s degree and had just moved to Virginia Beach, she explained. She had no legal experience but Jason immediately began downplaying that factor. “Join the club,” he joked. “We can learn together.”

The practice of law, Jason knew, was grueling. Having someone like Tami in the office would give him some incentive to get there early. Plus, male clients wouldn’t mind waiting a few extra minutes in the reception area.

He got Tami’s basic information-experience as an assistant, typing speed, computer skills, etc. She didn’t have any of the fatal personality flaws of the earlier applicants-and even if she did, Jason was now grading on a curve, so to speak.

“What brings you to Virginia Beach?” Jason asked.

“My boyfriend’s a fighter pilot,” Tami responded. “He just got stationed at Oceana.”

It wasn’t exactly the response Jason would have scripted, but as a lawyer, he was used to looking for loopholes. Boyfriend, she had said. Not fiance or husband. She wasn’t wearing an engagement ring. And she hadn’t automatically dismissed working nights and weekends. He wouldn’t try to break up a solid relationship, but sometimes things just happened.

Tami’s forty-five minutes seemed to go much faster than the previous applicants, confirming that she was the best choice so far. They were talking about how much they both liked the beach and how they couldn’t wait for the weather to warm up when they were interrupted by the next applicant.

A short lady, heavyset with thinning blonde hair and hound-dog eyes, peeked around the corner of the conference room door that Jason had left open. “I’m Bella Harper,” she said in an Brooklyn accent that sounded like something from My Cousin Vinny. “I was supposed to meet with Jason Noble.”

“That’s me,” Jason said. “Have a seat in the reception area; we’ll be done in just a minute.”

Five minutes later, Jason and Tami wrapped it up. Jason escorted her out to the reception area, introduced Tami to Bella, and was struck by the contrast. Tami handled herself with the elegance of a model-straight posture, easy smile, a “nice to meet you” greeting. She towered over Bella, who was slump-shouldered and stiff in her movements, her reading glasses hanging from a lanyard around her neck.

“Good thing these aren’t volleyball tryouts,” Bella joked.

Tami gave her a quizzical expression and a curious smile. Then Jason saw a glint of mischief in Tami’s eyes. “Oh,” she said, her face reflecting surprise. “You thought I was interviewing to be Jason’s assistant.”

Jason watched Bella, who seemed to have lost a little of her color.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Tami said.

Before Jason knew what was happening, Tami reached over and squeezed Jason’s arm. “See you later, honey,” she said, and gave Jason a quick peck on the cheek.

“Okay, thanks,” Jason said, reddening. “See you tonight.”

He turned to Bella Harper, who was looking at him with a curious expression. “Let’s talk in my conference room,” Jason said.

His BlackBerry buzzed, and the number on the screen belonged to Andrew Lassiter. “Give me just a minute,” Jason said to Bella. He answered the phone and wandered down the hall to his new office, closing the door behind him.

He wanted to get Lassiter involved in the Crawford case as early as possible. They had already negotiated a consulting agreement. “Can you come to Virginia Beach and watch the video of Melissa Davids’s deposition?” Jason asked. “She’s a little difficult to coach. It might help get her attention for trial prep if we could show her the reactions of a few Virginia Beach focus groups.”

Jason had intended to make it a quick interview, but Bella wasn’t cooperating. She had nearly thirty years’ experience as a legal assistant, knew about all the courts and procedures in the Hampton Roads area, possessed superior typing and filing skills, and even knew how to keep the financial records required for trust accounts and operating expenses. “Mr. Carson didn’t need to hire a bookkeeper for the first five years,” she said proudly.

It would be nice, Jason thought, to hire Tami as a receptionist and let Bella to do the grunt work. But he couldn’t afford two staff members just yet.

He studied Bella’s resume. She had jumped around when she first entered the workforce, but the last twenty years had all been at one firm. “Why did you leave Carson and Associates?” Jason asked.

“Brad Carson is probably the best lawyer in this area,” Bella said defensively, as if Jason had just insulted the man’s character. Her face changed expressions, and Jason thought he noticed her get a little misty-eyed. “I was with him when he started. But lately, well… um, to be honest, he brought in a hotshot young lawyer who thinks she’s God’s gift to the legal profession, and, well, we just fought constantly, and I finally decided it was time for one of us to move on.”

“Does he know you’re interviewing?” Jason inquired.

“No. He’d probably try to talk me into coming back. He’s very persuasive, and I love him like a son, but I… well, you know.”

Jason didn’t know, but figured he probably shouldn’t probe any deeper. Bella had about thirty years on Tami in the experience department. But Bella was brusque and seemed to be a little emotional. And Tami had already proven herself to be pretty quick-witted.

“Thanks for coming in and meeting with me today,” Jason said. “I’m going to take a couple of days to think about this and then get back in touch with everyone.”

Bella didn’t move.

“Should be no later than Thursday or Friday,” Jason said, standing. “Should I use this e-mail that’s on your resume?”

“Can I be frank?” Bella asked.

Jason gave her a twist of the head, a nonverbal cue that the answer was no. But what came out of his mouth was, “Sure.”

“You do a lousy interview, Mr. Noble. But then again, there are lots of questions you probably can’t ask without getting sued.”

Jason stiffened. At least she was making his choice easy. The last thing he needed to deal with every day was a brash New Yorker.

“I’m single,” Bella said. “I work weekends and nights. I might complain about it, because that’s what I do, but I really don’t even mind getting your dry cleaning.

“You seem like a nice young man and probably need somebody in the office to play the bad cop. That just happens to be my specialty. That, and collecting fees. With all due modesty, if it wasn’t for yours truly, Brad Carson would have been bankrupt about three times over by now.”