Just Be True To Me

As Anita continued on her soliloquy, Mia’s attention returned to the man. The way his eyebrows raised made his pronounced chin all the more so. His eyes, pinched in the corners, showed a hint of disdain for the people staring up at him. When paired with the minuscule grin tucked in the corners of his mouth, it was easy to see his sense of superiority. He backed every word his lawyer spoke with a single nod.

“Mia. Mia! You’re doing it again.”

“You said you were thinking about cutting your hair shorter and dying it light brown,” she said.

“Uh, yeah. So what do you think?”

He took a step. His aura forced everyone to take a step back. The reporter whose microphone he stole didn’t protest. His, along with every one of his peers’, mouth was pressed into a thin line, a combination of fear and admiration sealing it shut. The pause sucked the air out of their lungs. The right side of his mouth lifted. “Questions.”

“Mom, I gotta call you back.”

***

Mia’s blood began to rush as soon as she stepped into the office. She stood a little taller, a bit more confidence leaking into her steps. Mondays were usually the bloodiest days of the week. It was when dirt was pulled on the opposition, when the plan to use the opposition was drawn up.

Today was different.

Dropping off her purse and briefcase in her office, she swiped the newspaper off one of the associate’s desks. “I’ll bring it back,” she said over her shoulder. Turning on her heels, she said, “Thank you Bobby.” Her added wink made the young man blush. She entered Milton’s office without knocking.

“I’ll call you back. You’re alive.”

They hugged. “I am. Thank you for forcing me to take the week off, by the way. I needed it more than I thought.”

Milton pulled out his Dictaphone. “Say that again. With a little more volume.”

She cleared her throat. “Thank you boss.”

Listening to it once, he screwed around with some of the knobs. “One more time. With a little more life.”

She snatched it and laid the paper in the middle of the desk instead. “You know who that is?”

He didn’t look down. “An asshole trouble maker that we’re not taking on. If you need more of a description, he’s the man that has fired the firm, our firm, not once but three times; one of those times firing me, personally.”

“What was the first thing you ever taught me, Milton?” she asked.

“Don’t get emotional. I know, I know.”

“Then you won’t argue when I say I want this case.”

Milton fell back into his chair. His chest deflated to half its volume. He ran his fingers through what remained of his graying hair. His buttons strained across his stomach each time he leaned back. “I don’t know, Mia. I’m not doubting your abilities, you know that, but, the streak.”

“Really? That’s what you’re worried about.”

“I liked bragging about having the best lawyer in the whole city,” he said with a smile. He smoothed his beard down and ran his fingers through his hair once more. “I’ve been around you for a long time, so I know what denying you something you want does.”

She began bouncing and clapping her hands. Her ears itched to hear the magic words.

“Go ahead.”

Pressing the record button, she held the Dictaphone out. “Say that one more time.” Her chuckle turned into a full blown laugh after he snatched it out of her hand. “Too soon to ask for a hug?”

“Get outta my office.”

Back in her office, she wasted no time in googling her newest client. She said his name as she typed it out. “Let’s see what you’ve been up to.” She skimmed through the multitude of articles that raved about his genius and bravery, completely skipping over the ones that spoke of his charitable works. The thing that made her such an excellent attorney was her ability to find her clients’ dirt before the prosecution could.

After two hours, her face was still attached to the screen. She answered the knock without looking up. “What can I do for you, Bossman?”

“Lunch.”

“Bring me back something.”

“No tomatoes.”

“No tomatoes, no onions,” she said. “Thank you. You’re my favorite.” Searching Google images, she found a picture of Clifford from his younger days.

The picture led back to an article that highlighted Clifford’s childhood. The find pulled her in deeper as she hadn’t yet found anything personal on the man other than his mishaps with women. It mentioned a few quotes about his mother, nothing on his father except him being the source of his name; Clifford being his father’s middle name. In the end, she gathered that he’d had a tough childhood that served to be the source of his endless motivation.

“Great. He has mommy issues.” Finding the article writer’s number, she gave him a call. Luck was on her side as he still had the number Clifford had used to set up the interview. She dialed the first six numbers, deleting them a second later. She dialed them again on the office phone.

“This number has been disconnected.”

The raspberry she blew tickled her gums. Her breath made the screen fog as she returned to his website. She sent a quick email via their contact form before scouring the page for a phone number. When she couldn’t find one, she searched for his assistant on Facebook.

“Millenials,” she said, upon finding the girl’s phone number.

“You are a millennial,” Milton said, walking through the door. He set the bag in the middle of the desk before taking a seat. “Double meat with cheese, no tomatoes, no onion.”

Mia’s stomach growled. Grabbing a couple of fries, she stuffed them into her mouth as she typed a text.

“How’s it going?”

“About to see in a minute.” She tossed him the phone.

“Met Cliff last night at the club, lost his number,” he read her message to the girl.“There’s no way—“ the phone vibrated “Call…” he read the number the assistant had sent back in disbelief then pushed himself to his feet.

“You’re not gonna watch me work my magic?”

“Gotta work some magic on my own.” They bumped fists. He scurried out of the room, choking on the fries he stole as he laughed.

Mia picked her nails as she listened to the phone ring. Prepared to leave a message, she gasped when his deep, raspy voice seeped through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“Hi, uh, is this Clifford Knight?”

“This is he. With whom am I speaking?”

“Uh, this is Mia Bishop from Lent-Hendricks Law. This is gonna sound crazy, but I saw your press conference last week. I was wondering if you still had representation.” A lengthy pause followed. Her nervousness grew. She glanced around the room, ensuring that he hadn’t magically appeared.

“Tell me, Mrs. Bishop.”

“Ms., I’m not married,” she said.

“Ms. Bishop. How do you think I should feel about a lawyer calling me? I don’t know much about how these things go, but shouldn’t I be calling you?”

“I, uh, I was just curious about your situation.” Catching a glimpse of her reflection restored her confidence. “I believe in taking initiative. I’m not a sit-back-and-wait kind of girl. That’s what’s gonna set me apart as your lawyer. That’s what’s gonna get you off.”

“I never said you were my lawyer.”

“Call me back after you look me up. We’ll see what you have to say then.” Her adrenaline caused her to slam the phone in the cradle. Mia pumped her fist in the air and spun around in her chair. Needing to move, she began shadowboxing in the middle of the room. The restlessness stung her legs. With her eyes, she delivered a kick to the target in her mind. Her hands flew over her mouth upon seeing the pile of that glass that once was her best attorney award.

“I’m guessing your magic worked,” Milton said with a chuckle.

She held up her index finger and thumb. “Little bit.” Sitting back down, her hand shook with excitement. Taking a breath helped the emotion pass. She turned on her classical music playlist. Situating the earphones on her ears, she delved head first into work mode.