Baewatch - Xavier Neal Page 0,26
to leave not only my office but possibly my life, indicates whatever it is I’m not allowing him to say deserves its day in court to be heard.
Easy pun intended.
“Start at the beginning,” I quietly command at the same time I usher my hand towards the empty seat in front of me. “And no technicality bullshit.”
Ax offers me a nod of understanding and returns to the previously abandoned chair. He carefully places his cup back on my desk, making sure to avoid the paperwork I really should be focusing on, and proceeds to explain, “I come from a wealthy family that has included a long line of attorneys. Both my brother and father are attorneys as well. My grandfather and great grandfather and great great grandfather were all attorneys, too.”
“So, you aren’t actually a business owner?”
“I am,” his hand flies up to pause me from making more accusations, “it’s just more complicated than I care to admit.”
Uncertainty grabs me by the neck again.
“Let me start by saying, I have no real interest in the world of law.” He innocently shrugs. “There’s no passion for it. There never has been. There, most likely, never will be. It just happens to be something I’m particularly good at or, more accurately, disturbingly good at.” There’s an adjustment made in his seat, one that feels as though everything leaving him isn’t easy. “My father has his own firm, which he took over from my grandfather when he retired and restructured it. It’s currently number three in the state for criminal defense and in the top fifteen of the country, usually number eleven; although if you are speaking to my father, he will insist top ten because he doesn’t believe in the fluctuation of his status.”
“Criminal defense?” My head tilts to the side, certain I misheard. “Criminal as in you help murderers and rapists and thieves go free?”
Another cringe crosses his face. “It’s not that simple.”
“Not feeling like it’s that complicated.”
“But it is, Brooklyn, because not everyone who ends up branded as a criminal is one. My job, when I take a case, which we will get to all of that momentarily, is to prove that they don’t deserve that stigma. That there is a doubt it was them. That the prosecution has yet to do its job. That they are indeed continued to be labeled and treated innocently until it has been fairly declared otherwise.”
“God, you sound like a lawyer.”
Pain suddenly pierces through his gaze, yet he nods. “I know. And, believe it or not I actually hate how it sounds, too.” After giving his wet blond hair a ruffle, he continues, “I, Scott Maxwell – as I have to be called when conducting myself in the world of law, alongside my brother and father – am a white-collar criminal defense attorney. They specialize in larger, longer cases but never hesitate to reach out when they need another set of eyes or a hand. They deal with the normal shit you think about when you hear the phrase ‘white-collar crimes’. Father typically handles cases of embezzlement, money laundering, and fraud. Harrison, my older brother you had the pain of meeting last night, takes on cases regarding copyright infringement and cybercrimes. While I…,” he pauses to take a swipe of the lips I now loathe myself for touching without knowing more about him, “manage one case a year that tends to involve bribery. I’ve taken on other types in the past…,” the sentence seems to be censored, “but more often than not, I take on clients dealing with that accusation. It’s easier than the others, and I only directly involve myself in cases I know won’t require too much of my time. Either ones that are so sloppily put together by the prosecution that it’s a joke my client was ever arrested, or ones where they’re willing to admit their guilt but want a next to nothing sentence negotiated on their behalf. I never represent something I expect to eat up that much of my focus. Only things that allow me to do what it is I really love in life.”
“Running the shop and surfing.”
He instantly nods.
“Then why be an attorney at all?”
“I made a deal with the devil.”
The swift response is equally startling and shocking.
“I’ve never wanted to do what it is I’m doing. I’ve never wanted to be who it is my father wanted. Scott isn’t me. Even growing up, long before I got the lecture of a lifetime, I didn’t want the