Those were good times… “I could give you some advice for sure, steer you the right way so you don’t screw this up.”
“Yeah? So you’re an expert on women now, huh? As if getting relationship advice from you is even close to a good idea.”
“What’s wrong with getting guidance from me?”
“You’re the type of guy to tell someone who asks for suggestions on where to take a woman for a first date, to take her to a dog fight for a romantic night on the town.”
“I’m very knowledgeable in this area, I’ll have you know!”
“I’d be better off asking a priest which prostitute gives the best head in a whore house! Ya got an ex-fiancée from when you were in the Marines, before ya met Mom, who left ya because you were bat-shit crazy. Her words, not mine. Then, Mom got tired of your shit and ditched ya, and now you’ve got a wife who flees from ya every chance she gets. The difference between you and me is the fact I embrace how fucked up I am and how I might not be ideal marriage material!” He snorted. “You’re in total denial, so no thanks, Dad. I’ll take my chances on Ms. Party Girl from the bowels of sin.”
“Yeah, you’ll be sorry. Call me back later.”
“Nope.” He ended the call, slipped his phone in his pocket, and made his way inside.
“Oh, Nixon, there you are! Thank God! I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“What’s up?”
“Oh, damn it!” Adrian, one of their paralegals, began to rifle through a bunch of papers he had in his grip. “It’s not here. Let me go get it! Stay right here.” He pointed at him as he walked backwards, looking out of breath. “I need you to look over a copy of that contract before we’re called in again. I know you told us to handle it, but Harper found a discrepancy. I saw it but realized the date they had on the contract does not match up with the others. There’s also a clause in there about overtime pay. The wording is really strange.”
“And you’re just now telling me this?” He threw up his hands. “You begged me to let you handle reviewing the paperwork, you told me I did not need to check this contract since I was swamped, that you had it all under control. I didn’t want to give up control, but I did, so you could prove yourself. Shit! Adrian, damn it… this was supposed to be cut and dry.” The guy’s face turned bright red and he looked away. “Never mind… yelling at you won’t help.” He took a deep breath. “All right. hurry up. We’re about to be called back in. Break is over soon.”
The guy raced off in the opposite direction. As Nixon stood there, his jaws tightened. He nodded at another attorney walking past, then pulled out his phone to call his personal assistant.
“Yo, Julia,” he said, pacing slowly up and down the hall. “Nixon here… your favorite pain in the ass.”
“Hi, Nixon, and yes, you are my favorite, but never a pain in the ass, honey.”
He smiled at her words.
“That’s nice of you to lie to me. Look, hey… I need a favor.”
“Sure thing.”
“Look up a Camden Riser for me please. Oh, and while you’re at it, get the 411 on Terrell Fairman, too. He’s at Steinberg & Fairman Law Offices. Both of them are, actually. I need you to check out Mr. Riser’s work history, any trouble with the State Bar, disciplinary actions, stuff like that. Do the same with Terrell but focus mainly on Camden. I want to know everything about this guy, any divorces, layoffs, brushes with the law, problematic posts, strange social media activity, political affiliations, any sexist, homophobic or racially charged jokes he may have liked or retweeted, anything that looks suspicious or unappealing.”
“Okay, let’s see here… Are they medical malpractice attorneys?”
He could hear the woman typing. He looked around him, then leaned against the wall, crossing his ankles.
“No. Criminal defense team. They’ve gotten some pretty high-profile cases. And the firm is in good standing. Naturally, they’re linked tight with the prosecutor – not in a good way, of course, but that goes with the territory. And they’re local. Ya got it?”
“Yes, got it all down. Since you’re in court all day, you just want me to text the information after I get it?”
“Send it to me in an email. Run full-background searches, Julia. I want every juicy detail.