The Color of Law_ A Novel - Mark Gimenez [92]
“Sue, I’m putting these documents on your desk. Copy them and get them up to Dibrell ASAP. Put the originals in Scott’s…I mean, in my office.”
“Yes, Mr. Greenberg.”
“Sid?”
Sid spotted Scott and said, “Oh, hi, Scott. Sorry to hear the news. Good luck.”
“You’re taking my client, my secretary, my office? I taught you everything you know!”
“Yeah, Scott, you did. You taught me practicing law is just business. Nothing personal.”
“I wasn’t talking about me!”
Sid shrugged lamely and walked off. Scott turned to Sue, her hands extended toward him. Scott took his briefcase and 9-iron from her.
“Good-bye, Mr. Fenney.”
“That’s it? Good-bye? Eleven years you’ve been my secretary. Don’t you care?”
Sue got a look on her face he had never seen and she seemed to grow six inches.
“For eleven years I’ve fetched your dry cleaning and coffee, run your personal errands, paid your personal bills, shopped for gifts for your wife and child and clients, lied to clients for you…Did you care about me? About my life? You never once asked about my life. Do you know I have a handicapped child and that’s the only reason I’ve put up with you for all these years? Because I needed the money? You didn’t know and you didn’t care. Did you care when Mr. Walker got fired? No. Like every other lawyer here, you care only about yourself.”
Scott turned from this stranger standing on the marble floor in the lobby, talking to him like that in front of a gathering crowd. Followed by the two guards, he walked to the elevators and pushed the down button. The doors opened and they stepped in. One of the guards said, “What happened, Mr. Fenney?”
“I got fired.”
“’Cause of what you did, standing up for that girl?”
“Yeah.”
“I know where Mr. Ford parks his Mercedes down in the garage. You want I should flatten his tires?”
“Yeah.” Then Scott shook his head. “No.”
The doors started to shut, but at the last second a hand pushed in and the doors receded. Standing there was Sue. She said, “John Walker’s wife died last week.”
They stepped outside the store and Pajamae froze.
“Boo, there he is again.”
“Who?”
“The bald man in the black car.”
“Where?”
Pajamae motioned with her head to the parking lot. Boo turned that way, but Pajamae said, “Don’t look!”
They turned and faced the store window. In the Village, cars could park in slanted spots right at the sidewalk. Then there was a little one-way road for cars to drive around the center and then two more rows of parking in the middle of the open parking area. The bald man in the black car was parked there, maybe thirty feet away. Boo acted casual and kind of looked around at different things and finally got around to glancing at the bald man in the black car: he was staring straight at them. Boo turned away.
Pajamae was frantic. “Let’s run, Boo!”
Boo took Pajamae firmly by the arms. “No. Act normal. He can’t grab both of us, not here. He’s just trying to scare us.”
“Honey, it’s working!”
Boo started patting around her pockets.
“What are you doing?” Pajamae asked.
“I’m pretending I’m looking for something.” She threw up her hands and pointed inside the store. “Now I’m acting like I left something inside. Come on, we’ll go back in and I’ll call A. Scott. He’ll come for us.”
“He better get here fast.”
“He drives a Ferrari.”
They walked back inside and Boo went directly over to the same saleslady. “Ma’am, may I use a phone? It’s an emergency. I need to call my handsome father.”
Scott had always enjoyed the ride home at the end of each day, jumping into a $200,000 automobile, exiting the parking garage, saluting Osvaldo like the president saluting the Air Force One attendants, and pointing the Ferrari north toward Highland Park…Driving leisurely through the Uptown area just north of downtown where the singles commingled, young men and gorgeous girls,