who’d been telling the same story for years, all too aware that no one was listening. He said it with a conviction that made me think it was the obvious truth, that it couldn’t be any other way. Matt’s sister was lying.
We talked a while longer. Reilly tried repeatedly to bring the conversation to a close, but Steele wanted none of it. Eventually, Reilly stood as he spoke, forcing a conclusion. When Steele and I shook hands, he held on tight and seemed reluctant to let go at all.
3
Liz cupped her wine glass with both hands and leaned forward on her elbows, peering at me over the glass. “So what are you working on?”
“You ever heard of attorney-client privilege?”
“Oh, come on, they’d never let you touch anything that’s worth keeping a secret.” I knew she was right. She leaned back in her dark blue suit and adjusted her oval shaped glasses. She’d chosen the frames because she thought they made her look older, like a woman who should be taken seriously. She watched me and waited, knowing my disdain for large law firms wouldn’t permit me to keep a secret for long. But I turned the table on her.
I said, “Then tell me what you’re working on.”
“I’m trying to protect a citizen’s group of mostly single mothers who’ve been taken advantage of by abusive lending institutions and credit companies.” Liz was basically me before I sold my soul, and she loved to remind me about it. She was helping people. I was selling my life, an hour at a time, to the highest bidder. When we’d met during our first semester of law school, we started dating and then vowed to each other that we wouldn’t sell out, that we were there to do good, not get rich. But then the economy melted down and you had to take work where you could find it. I just happened to find it at K&C making three grand a week. Who can turn down that kind of money? Liz went on.
“You wouldn’t believe what these companies will do. There’s this one woman whose credit report shows three bankruptcies, and she’s never filed for bankruptcy. She can’t even get anyone to rent her an apartment and she’s got three small children.” She took another sip of her wine. “Fucking credit reporting company is probably a client of yours.”
She smiled, and I sat back and shrugged. What could I say? Finally, she asked, “So what’s it like over on the dark side? Is everyone evil and sinister?”
“What does that mean?” I knew exactly what it meant. It was the K&C myth, the aura that surrounded the place.
“Well, they don’t call it the Death Star for nothing, do they? I picture all the partners dressed like Darth Vader, with that heavy breathing.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty much like that. All the communications over the P.A. end with James Earl Jones saying ‘I am your father.’” I did my best impression of the booming voice and Liz laughed. “But basically, it’s like anywhere else in that it’s not what you think it’ll be. You know? People are silly.” I tried my best to sound unimpressed.
“I guess,” she said, warily. “Like the director at Legal Aid is completely gay. I mean, flamboyant, big hand gestures, real excited. It’s funny because it’s just not what you expect. I mean, he’s totally the stereotype, but you never expect to actually see the stereotype. So, yeah, not what I expected.”
I watched her face. At twenty-four she still had the exuberance of a teenager and it bothered her. She was afraid of not being taken seriously. In her suit and glasses, carrying her leather briefcase, she looked more like a girl dressing up as a young professional than the real thing. But I would never tell her that.
Despite her father leaving when she was eight and her mother’s struggle to run an ailing video store in San Diego, Liz had remained upbeat about the world and her own potential. She’d also put herself through school, and I suppose that was the first thing that attracted me to her. Unlike me, Liz never expressed resentment toward the students from privileged backgrounds. She seemed to genuinely believe that she could share in the same kind of good fortune, but I knew part of her feared that disaster lurked around each corner — some cruel fate she was helpless to avoid — the lot of the working poor.
“But really,” she asked, “what’s it like over there?