Rosato and Associates: Legal Tender Part 3

Eureka! I yanked the directory off the shelf, found the listing, and called. "Meyers Placement?" I said weakly, when a woman picked up. "Uh ... I may be out of a job soon and I need to talk to someone."

"Hold please," she said, then the phone clicked and another woman came on, with a professionally soothing voice. "May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm calling from R & B, Rosato & Biscardi? I need to find a job, I think."

"To whom am I speaking?"

"I, uh, can't say. I'd die if my boss found out. She's a real b.i.t.c.h."

A surprised laugh. "Well, you can send us a confidential resume. Address it to-"

"Am I the only one from R & B who called you? Or have you gotten a call from Renee Butler?"

"I'm not at liberty to give out that information."

"But I'm not the only one, am I? I won't send my resume if I'm the only one." I was hoping she'd see her exorbitant fee slipping away.

"No, you're not the only one."

"Is it Jeff Jacobs or Bob Wingate? I bet it's one of them."

"I can't confirm either of those names."

"I know Jenny Rowland's miserable here. She says it sucks."

"I really can't reveal our clients, dear. I do have three resumes from R & B, but that doesn't mean we can't place all of you."

Three resumes? Three a.s.sociates wanted out? That was almost half the crew. My heart sank. I didn't listen to her sales pitch, just waited until she stopped talking, thanked her, and hung up. Three? What was going on?

I felt stricken. I'd talk to Mark about it as soon as he got back. A firm our size couldn't sustain that sort of blow, not now. Mark's commercial business practice was booming; my First Amendment practice, representing media clients against defamation suits, was finally at the point where it subsidized the police misconduct cases. Mark and I were bringing in a million in billings a year and paying ourselves a hundred thousand each, not to mention feeding thirteen mouths. Doing well and doing good, with a genuine rock 'n' roll esprit. Until now.

I looked back at my desk, piled high with messages, correspondence, and briefs. I'd better stay ahead of it if we were heading into crisis mode. d.a.m.n. I pushed my worries to the back of my mind and set to work, ignoring the sounds of the a.s.sociates as they got home. I heard them laughing and joking, then the ringing of phones and the song of modems as they got back to work. Two of them, Bob Wingate and Grady Wells, were arguing a point of federal jurisdiction in the hallway, and I c.o.c.ked my head to listen. Sharp, sharp lawyers, these. I liked them and was sorry that three were unhappy. Maybe I'd try to talk them out of leaving. Right after I spanked them.

At the end of the day I shook off my work buzz and went downstairs. I could hear from the commotion Mark had returned. The whole firm usually met at the end of the day in the library, and I gathered he was holding forth down there, regaling the a.s.sociates with war stories from the Wellroth trial. Did you hear the one about the water pitcher?

But when I reached the library's open door, I saw it wasn't our usual in-house confab. Mark was sitting at the conference table with Eve, and next to her was Dr. Haupt from Wellroth and a bluff older man I recognized as Kurt Williamson, the company's general counsel. I veered left to avoid interrupting them, but Mark stood up and motioned to me.

"Bennie, come on in," he said expansively, but there was an edge to his voice I didn't like. His jacket was off, his silk tie loosened. "I have some good news for you."

"Good news? About the trial?"

"No, on another matter. Other matters, in fact. Kurt is sending us two of Wellroth's largest new matters, including the structuring of its joint venture with Healthco Pharma. A major, major deal." His eyes were sending nasty signals, which I read as a so-there after this morning's debacle.

"That's wonderful," I said, though what I meant was, that's lucrative. "Mark is a terrific lawyer, Kurt, and I know he'll do a great job with it."

"He has so far," Williamson said, nodding. "His opinion letter gave us a whole new perspective on the joint venture. Did you see it?" He leaned over the table and handed a thick packet of papers to me.

"Nice work, creative work," I said, skimming the opinion letter for the second time. No opinion left R & B without my review because of the malpractice exposure; I'd seen it when it was a research memo prepared by Eve and Renee Butler. I flopped the memo closed and handed it back to him. "Very creative."

Eve smiled tightly at the praise and so did Dr. Haupt, or at least I think he did. The fissure in the lower half of his face s.h.i.+fted like a fault line.

"I agree," Williamson said. "One of the problems with the pharmaceutical business is controlling the product once it's developed, as you can see from our present dispute over Cetor. Developing a successful product is a complicated process, often involving interlocking patents. Interdependent patents, more than a dozen."

"That many?" I said, though he didn't seem to require any response to continue. Corporate clients love to talk about their business. Listen or somebody else will.

"Even more. In the joint venture, the rub is which company will control the patents should a successful product be developed. Mark's idea was that half of the interdependent patents should be held by each party. All the patents would be rendered useless except in combination with the others."

"Really," I said, though I remembered it from the memo. "So the patents would fit together."

"Like keys to a lock."

"Amazing," I bubbled, though the simile had been mine. I had edited out the metaphor the memo had used, comparing the patents to keys to a treasure chest. It was too cute for an opinion letter, where the language is supposed to be so bland n.o.body could remember it, much less hold the firm liable for anything.

Williamson stood up, smoothing his b.u.mpy seersucker jacket. "Well, I really must be going. The Paoli train calls, and so does my wife."

Mark and I laughed in unfortunate unison. We always laugh at our clients' jokes, but we try not to be so obvious about it. "I'll walk you out," Mark said, rising to help Williamson gather his papers. Dr. Haupt rose, too, and Eve put the file back together, working smoothly.

"Thanks again, Kurt," I said to Williamson. I shook his hand as he left, and he mock-withered in my grip.

"Still rowing, are you?" he asked, smiling. "I haven't sculled in ages. I'm getting older."

"You too? What a coincidence."

Williamson laughed as Mark gave him one of those elbow touches that qualify as business intimacy, and Williamson let himself be cuddled out. Dr. Haupt followed silently, leaving Eve and me alone in the conference room. I decided to be nice to her. "Congratulations on the new business, Eve."

She continued gathering the papers, but she was frowning. "They're s.e.xist, even Dr. Haupt. He didn't even acknowledge me."

"Hey, Eve," called a boyish voice from the door. It was Bob Wingate, the Deadhead with gaunt cheekbones, sunken brown eyes, and an alternative pallor. Dressed in a Jerry T-s.h.i.+rt and khakis, he ambled into the library and climbed onto the window seat. "How goes the Wellroth trial?"

Eve masked her pique. "Great, just great," she said, and I chose not to contradict her.

"Cool." Wingate nodded. "Did Mark let you do a witness?"

"Sure. I cross-examined two of them and argued a motion at the end of the day. An evidentiary motion."

"f.u.c.k," Wingate said, scratching his longish hair. "I worked my a.s.s off all day on one brief. When's he gonna let me have a trial? I've done almost fifty depositions in two years. I think I'm ready, don't you?" He b.u.mped his black high-tops against the wall, making scuffmarks on my paint job.

"Wingate, stop with your heels," I said.

He looked at me like an injured child. "When am I gonna get some trial experience, Bennie? I'm ready. I can do it."

"Ask Mark. You didn't want to work for me, remember?"

"It wasn't you, it was your cases. And he always puts me off."

"Then keep after him."

Wingate sulked in the window seat as Eve sat down, fiddling with her charm bracelet: a gold locket, a silver key, a tiny heart. I wondered if Mark had given her the bracelet; he'd never given me anything so expensive.

"I thought that went very well, didn't you?" Mark said, returning like the conquering hero. "Eve?"

"Fine," she said, smiling. "It went great."

"What went great?" asked Grady Wells, drifting into the library, dressed in a gray suit and Liberty tie. Above his broad shoulders was a pair of gold wire-rimmed gla.s.ses, an easy smile, and thatch of curly blond hair no amount of water could civilize. It was the only unruly thing about Grady, a tall North Carolinian with Southern manners and an accent that fooled opposing counsel into thinking he was slow-witted. Nothing could be further from the truth.

"We're talking about the Wellroth trial," Wingate said. "Eve did two witnesses. Meantime, what are you dressed as, Wells?"

Grady looked down at his suit. "A lawyer, I think."

"But isn't this your Ultimate Frisbee night? The last night of the season? The big party?"

"I have to miss it. I'm meeting a client."

Wingate snorted. "Maybe there is no ultimate night of Ultimate Frisbee. Maybe every night is the ultimate. You're the golden boy, Wells. You tell me."

"Renee!" Mark said, beaming as Renee Butler arrived, wearing a loose smock of Kente cloth. "Come in and celebrate. Wellroth is sending us some very significant new business, including an ant.i.trust case. I want you and Wells to work on it. It'll be a monster."

"If you need me," Renee said.

Mark turned to Grady. "Wells, how about you?"

"No thanks," he said, with a confidence afforded by his credentials. A Duke grad, he'd clerked for the Supremes and before that had been an editor of the Harvard Law Review. It was a coup R & B got him; he chose us because he had a girlfriend in Philly at the time.

"You don't want even a piece of it?" Mark asked, but Grady shook his head.

"Ant.i.trust is drying up, anyway," Wingate mumbled. "It's been dead since the eighties."

"Hey, everybody!" called Jennifer Rowland, from the door. A pet.i.te Villanova grad, Rowland effervesced constantly, like a Dixie cup of 7-Up.

"Come in, Jen," I said, and moved over to let her squeeze in with our two remaining a.s.sociates, Amy Fletcher and Jeff Jacobs. The library was so small that at the end of most workdays it looked like the stateroom in a Marx Brothers movie, but I didn't mind it. I enjoyed hearing about the day's legal problems, and the a.s.sociates enjoyed airing them. Well, now we had a real problem. I decided to deal with it. "You know, gang, I'm glad you're all here, because there's something we should discuss. I've been hearing some rumors."

Mark's head snapped around. "Rumors? What about?"

"About Wells?" Wingate said. "Is he really a Republican?"

Mark cut him off with a hand chop. "Wingate, if you were funny it would be different. But you're not, so shut up."

Wingate flushed red, and I cleared my throat. "Rumor has it that some of you are circulating resumes."

"Resumes? You're kidding," Mark said, looking as surprised as I was. He was undoubtedly p.i.s.sed I hadn't spoken to him privately, but I wasn't about to wait. Suddenly his dark eyes began scrutinizing the faces around the table. "Who's looking for a new job?" he asked. "Who?"

"Mark, that's not the point. It doesn't matter who's looking. I didn't bring it up because I expected somebody to tell us."

"You mean you're not trying to out anybody," Wingate said tensely.

"No, I'm not. But I wanted to tell you, and I speak for Mark, too, that we would hate to lose any one of you. You've all been working very hard and that takes a toll. So if you're unhappy about your hours or about anything else, just come to us privately and tell us why. Maybe we can fix it, and n.o.body has to leave R & B. Now, that's all I'll say about it, unless you have questions."

Jennifer Rowland raised her hand shyly. "Bennie? I was wondering about something."

"Of course. Anything."

"We've been hearing some rumors that you and Mark ... you know." She looked awkwardly from Mark to me, and since it was my role to be graceful in defeat, I spoke.

"Well, Jenny, it's true that Daddy and I did, in fact, break up. But it wasn't your fault and we love you the way we always did." The a.s.sociates laughed and so did I, though it killed me. Mark reddened and glanced at Eve.

But Jenny was waving her hand, trying to silence everybody. "No, actually, I knew that you and Mark broke up. What I heard was that the firm was breaking up. That you and Mark were dissolving the firm."

Mark went white, and so did I. "Jenny, of course that's not true," I said, but Mark was already on his feet.

"People, I think this has been enough of a therapy session for one night. Everybody out of the pool." He clapped his hands together to get the a.s.sociates moving. "Come on, everybody out."

"Wait a minute, Mark," I said. "They have a right to ask, a right to know what's going on. It's their jobs."

"Bennie, stop." He held up his hand. "I know what I'm doing."

The a.s.sociates were already leaving. Amy Fletcher and Jeff Jacobs left together, with Jennifer. Wingate popped off the window seat and hustled to the door behind Eve and Renee Butler. Grady was the last to go and glanced back at me, his large gray eyes full of intelligence, and something else. A trace of sympathy. There, then gone.

I shut the library door and faced Mark.

Chapter 6.

It's over, Bennie," Mark said.

"I know, I noticed we weren't sleeping together."

"Not us. R & B. The firm. It's true."

"What?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My face felt red, my throat, thick. A fist of pain and anger formed in my chest. "What are you talking about?"

"I want to go out on my own."

I told myself to stay calm and control my tone. I didn't want us to start screaming at each other. It hadn't gotten us anywhere but apart. "You're already out on your own."

"I want to start over, make a new firm. I need a fresh start." He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his suit pants. "It's too hard, with you and Eve in the same firm."

"Slow up a minute. This is my business you're talking about, my livelihood. The stuff with Eve is personal. I know the difference."

"Then what happened today, with the water pitcher? Eve thinks you did it because you're jealous of her. She doesn't see how she can stay, with you here."

I gritted my teeth. "Then let her go, it's my firm. You know and I know today was about business."