Perri O’Shaughnessy - Breach Of Promise

In the small library-conference room next to her office, Paul was waiting, drinking a cup of coffee. “Hey, lovely lawyer-woman,” Paul said. He set his cup down and put his arms around her.

“Hi, Paul,” she said, allowing herself to disappear for just a moment into his chest and let his heat surround her. “How have things been in Washington?”

“Almost as cold as they have been up here,” he said, playing with her earring. “It’s been slow. Lots of delays because of the weather.”

“You know what? I’m really happy to see you!” she said.

“Ditto,” Paul said, smiling at her.

“I missed you.”

“Me, too.”

“You missed yourself?” she asked.

“Don’t be cute.”

She stepped back from him. “We need to get right down to it tonight.”

“Good idea!” he said. “Let’s entirely dispense with the preliminaries. Where will it be this time, the floor, this big wide chair, or hey, here’s this nice long, comfy table…” He patted it, pushing files over to one side. “A little scratchy. But you’ve got a tough little rear end…”

“Do me a favor.”

“Anything, as long as it involves those delectably painted toes of yours.”

“Can you please disperse that fog of lust you hang around in long enough to tell me what you’ve found out?”

“It’s more entertaining than you think in here.”

“Come on, now.”

He planted a final kiss on her nose and took a chair. Nina sat opposite.

“Oh, before we start, I forgot to ask.” Nina messed with the papers on the table in front of her and tried to keep her tone casual. “Have you made up your mind about the job yet? I mean, it sounds like a great opportunity.” She had spent more than a few long nights pondering the job he had been offered on the East Coast, finally deciding she should encourage him to do what was best for him. That was the right way to care for a good friend like Paul. “You’d probably be a fool to turn it down. You’re in the prime of life, at the height of your profession…”

“Wait a minute. Last time we talked, I’d be selling my soul to take that job.” He sounded more than a little annoyed.

“Well, you would be,” she said lightly. “I’m just trying to say the right thing here, Paul. I don’t want to be selfish and hold you back. On the other hand, I want you to make the decision that is right for you.”

“I see,” he said, looking at her with an expression she could not interpret. “Well, I’m playing it cool. I haven’t said one way or another.”

“You haven’t turned it down?”

“No.”

“I was just wondering,” Nina said.

“I’ll let you know when I decide,” he said.

“Oh, good.”

There was a short pause. Nina looked for something in her briefcase and Paul looked at her. “So how did the pseudo-trial go today?” he asked finally.

“Alarming. Provocative,” Nina said quickly, eager to move on in the conversation. “Not that our substitute Riesner looks or acts anything like Jeff Riesner at all. He’s an attorney friend of mine named Rufus who can talk the same talk, but has an entirely different effect on me. He sounds darned reasonable. I can’t speak for the pseudo-jury.”

Paul grinned. “That dirty rat Riesner. Just your luck to get him on the other side.”

“But who better to represent Mike Markov? In court, he’s pure, scorched-earth aggressiveness. He’s going to have the jury believing they have to strike down this evil, predatory female. ’She can’t let go.’ Something like that will be his pitch. Oh, if it was only someone besides him. Someone decent like Rufus. I win, I take him out to lunch. With Riesner, I win, I watch my back.”

“So who won the case today?”

“Well, you have to understand. First, this shadow trial is a pretty pale rendering of the real thing. It lacked several real elements. Drama. Passion. Tedium. Andrea was Lindy. She laughed a few times in the wrong places, and Winston had a handkerchief hanging out of his back pocket like a fluffy little tail for the longest time that nobody even noticed except the jury. I guarantee that won’t happen at trial.”

“Where was your notoriously clever jury consultant during this kinky event?”

“Quietly running the show from the sidelines. Generating these statistical models she likes so much. I reminded her she promised to protect me from that stuff, so now we skip to the generalizations. Anyway, we started by running through the testimony, at least the way they think the testimony will be presented at this point. As I figured, the stickiest mess was the one relating to that separate property agreement Lindy supposedly signed one fine evening, Rufus’s favorite toy and probably Riesner’s when the real time comes.”

“And?”

“In our first opening and closing arguments, we emphasized the promises made verbally, that unofficial wedding ceremony they went through years ago, the assumptions and expectations of the parties.”

“How’d your jury like that?”

“They didn’t. We lost. We ran through another version, where we stressed Lindy’s role at the company and kept up the attack on the agreement. That one seemed to ring the right bell. Our second approach proved more persuasive. We won, sort of. They awarded her twenty-five percent of the net worth of the stock.”

“Surprised?”

“Not really. I felt all along that Lindy’s work would make or break her case. That’s a visible thing. We can point to real evidence of her contributions, evidence of Mike’s reliance on her, evidence of her regular participation in big business decisions, evidence that directly links her efforts to the success of the corporation.”

Paul nodded.

“After it was all over, before collapsing into a heap, Winston, Genevieve, and I did a quickie analysis and discovered things were exactly as Genevieve had predicted based on her preliminary research, questionnaires, and statistical models. We had a sexual Armageddon on our hands. The men initially sided with Mike, the women with Lindy. Of course, that picture changed as we got into our arguments, and that’s another place Genevieve comes in. She needs some time now to go over the results along with some questionnaires and interviews she’ll be conducting over the next couple of days. Then she’ll write up specific recommendations.”

“So is any of this going to help you win?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Do you believe in this, Nina? Shouldn’t you just put your best case on, and hope the unpredictable crowd somehow fumbles its way to justice? People aren’t cattle. You can’t presume to predict which cereal they’ll choose on a given day.”

“Rice Krispies for Andrea, Raisin Bran for Matt, Lucky Charms for Bob, and Grape Nuts for me, pretty much every day except Sunday. So don’t be so sure, Paul.” Nina found a fresh piece of paper and poised a pen above it. “Now, let’s go over where you are.”

His notes neatly arrayed on the side opposite hers, Paul ran a hand through hair that looked blonder than ever and longer than Nina remembered. He had accumulated an extensive file on Mike Markov, which held a lot of detail about his long friendship with Galka and recent indiscretions with Rachel. He was also working with a woman in the marketing department at Markov Enterprises who thought she remembered a video from a sales show made a few years before that might help them nail Mike in a lie at trial.

“And here’s something you might not know. Rachel is still friendly with her ex-beau Harry Anderssen. Sees him once in a while for dinner, without Markov.”

“The male model?”

“That’s right. She lived with him for years and picked up most of the tab because his income has always been erratic, except during the time he worked at Markov. I’d say their financial involvement goes way back.”