North and Shaw Out of Office - Gregory Ashe Page 0,7
so that it looked like the men had hauled Pari backward instead of Chuck pushing her. The last moment he showed the Romney boy was Pari sitting up on the table, her face a mask of shock and horror, her mouth clearly forming a noise that could have been—must have been—No, while the boy groped her breast.
“That’s totally wack,” Romney boy said.
“Totally wack?” North said. “What is this guy? Sixteen?”
“Sixteen and living in 1987.”
“You’re lying. You’re making up this shit.”
“Tell them about Cousin Rodney,” North said.
“Oh, right.” Shaw met Romney boy’s eyes. “He wants me to drop the whole private investigator gig and go to law school.”
“Not that part.”
“It’s context. He might need to know.”
“Shaw, he doesn’t need to know that you can’t score higher than the 130s on the LSAT.”
“Hold on. Hold on. Those were practice tests. And I took them junior year. And you know I had a cold—”
“Dude,” Romney boy said. “What the fuck?”
“That’s what I’m saying,” North said. “And he thinks he can be a lawyer.”
“No,” Shaw said. “I never said I could be a lawyer, I just said I could score higher than you on the LSAT if I actually tried.”
“Just tell him the important part.”
“What? Oh. Right. I’m sending stills of those three moments to Cousin Rodney.”
“What the fuck?” Romney boy said, glancing left and right. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Rodney Preston? Associate Dean of Students at Chouteau’s law school? He’s not going to be happy.”
“See,” North said, “if I were a lawyer—”
“If we were lawyers,” Shaw corrected.
“There’s no way he’s going to believe that, Mr. 133 on the LSAT. Let me finish. If I were a lawyer, I’d probably be ethically obligated to disclose the full video or something like that. I’d probably have to give context. I’d probably risk some sort of career-ending punishment if I tried something like that.”
“Yeah,” Shaw said. “If we tried something like that, it could end our careers. As lawyers.”
“I’m telling you, if you’d just study, just read the practice book, you could beat 133.”
“I was sick. I’d probably get a 170 if I took it right now.”
“Fine. Let’s go back to the office. You can do one of the online practice tests right now. Tonight.”
“I didn’t mean tonight tonight. I was just making the point that—”
“Dude,” Romney boy screamed.
“What?” Shaw said. “Go home. Pack your stuff up. Get ready to explain to Mommy and Daddy and the trust fund angels why you got kicked out of Chouteau Law. My partner and I have to settle this.”
“You can’t do that. You’re, like, totally fucking with the Me Too movement. You’re like making a mockery of it.”
For a moment, Shaw honestly had no words. He glanced at North.
Shrugging, North said, “He’s kind of right.”
“Guess that makes us a really special kind of asshole, doesn’t it?”
North nodded.
“Does it make it any better that we were aided and abetted by a pair of lesbians?”
North rocked his hand.
Then, looking back at the Romney boy, Shaw said, “You’re still here?”
“Listen, we won’t come back. These dykes won’t ever hear from us again. Just don’t send that picture.”
“Ouch. You shouldn’t have called them dykes.”
“And he shouldn’t have said anything about your face,” North said before punching Romney boy so hard that he popped right out of his loafers.
6
THEY SAID COMPLIMENTARY drinks,” North said, grabbing the cherry bobbing at the top of Shaw’s glass and popping it in his mouth. “But six Cokes in a half hour seems like you’re stretching their generosity.”
Shaw’s feet were tapping. His hands skittered along the bar. He looked ready to crawl out of his skin, and he was so pretty North could have died.
Daksha and Bud approached from behind the bar, passing an envelope to North which he tucked behind the small of his back.
“Thanks,” Daksha said.
“It’s a little too ‘white savior’ for me,” Bud said as she shook their hands. “But thank you.”
“You’re white,” Shaw said.
Bud glared at him as he slurped more Coke.
“We should get going,” North said, tugging him off the stool. Shaw stretched out his neck, trying to get a little more Coke before North dragged him away. “If they bother you again, let us know.”
“It’s early,” Shaw complained as they crossed the rapidly emptying dance floor. “I don’t understand why people get tired. Are you tired? I feel great. I feel like I could go all night. I mean, you definitely look tired. You probably shouldn’t have had that second beer, but maybe you’re not sleeping enough, I always try to get