“Okay, I seriously doubt I’ll be able to hustle injury cases in hospital emergency rooms. And I doubt if either of you knows how to do it either.”
Todd said, “You’re right, but we can learn. We have to learn. It’s a matter of survival.”
Mark said, “Oh, I think you’ll be a natural, Zola. A beautiful young black woman in a killer dress, short skirt maybe, with stylish heels. I’d hire you in a heartbeat if my wife got banged up in a car wreck.”
“My only nice dress is the one I wore to the funeral.”
“We’re upgrading your wardrobe, Zola,” Todd said. “We’re no longer law students but real professionals. New clothes for all of us. It’s in the firm’s budget.”
“That’s the only promising thing I’ve heard yet,” she said. “And let’s say we get some clients and we need to meet them at the office. What then?”
It was obvious they had thought of everything. Without hesitating, Mark said, “We tell them our offices are being renovated and we meet them downstairs in the bar.”
“The Rooster Bar?”
“Sure. The drinks are on the firm as we go through the paperwork,” Todd said. “They’ll love it.”
Mark said, “Keep in mind, Zola, most of our clients will be small-time criminals who pay in cash. We’ll meet them in court or in jail, and the last place they’ll want to go is a law office.”
Todd said, “And we will not be having conferences with other lawyers. Nothing like that.”
“Of course not.”
Mark said, “If we get backed into a corner, we can always rent a room at a business center for a few hours. There’s one around the corner.”
“I guess you guys have thought of everything.”
“No, we don’t have a clue, Zola,” Todd said. “But we’ll figure it out, make it work, and have some fun along the way.”
“What else is bugging you?” Mark said.
“Okay, I doubt I can keep this from Ronda. She’s a close friend and she’s worried about me.”
“She also has the biggest mouth in our class,” Todd said. “You have to keep her in the dark.”
“That won’t be easy. I doubt if I can drop out of law school without her knowing it.”
“Does she know about you and Gordy?” Mark asked.
“Of course she does. He hit on her during our first year.”
“What have you told her?” Todd asked.
“She wanted to talk so I met her for a sandwich last night. I said I was really struggling and skipping classes for the time being, that I might take off a semester and pull things together. She didn’t pry too much, just wanted to talk about Gordy and his final days. I didn’t say much. She thinks I might need to see a therapist, someone for grief counseling. I said I’d think about it. She was really sweet, and I needed that.”
“You gotta cut the cord, Zola,” Mark said. “Stiff-arm her, but do it gently. We have to pull away from the law school gang. If word gets out that the three of us are skipping our last semester, the school might start asking questions. That’s no big deal, unless of course it decides to notify DOE.”
“I thought we weren’t worried about the loans.”
“True, but we need to delay default as long as possible. If the loan servicers find out that we’ve withdrawn, they’ll start barking about repayment. When they can’t find us, they’ll turn the files over to lawyers who’ll hire investigators to sniff around. I’d rather deal with that down the road.”
“I’d like to avoid it altogether,” Todd said.
“Oh, I think we will.”
“But you have no idea, do you?” she asked.
Mark and Todd exchanged looks and nothing was said for a moment. Todd’s cell phone vibrated and he pulled it out of a pocket. “Wrong one,” he said, and pulled another phone out of another pocket. Two phones, the old and the new. One for the past, one for the present. He read a message and said, “It’s Wilson, says, ‘Hey, man, you skipping classes again today. What’s up?’?”
“This might be harder than we thought,” Mark said.
18
By 8:45, they were gathering in nervous little groups in the wide hallway outside courtroom 142 in the District Courthouse. A sign by the door said it was the domain of the Honorable Fiona Dalrymple, Criminal Division 19, General Sessions Court, District of Columbia. Those summoned to the day and hour were, generally speaking, a rough-looking bunch from the tougher neighborhoods, most with black or brown skin, almost all either holding the piece of paper that had commanded them to be there or standing close to a loved one with such paperwork. No one was alone. Those accused brought with them spouses or parents or teenage children, and everyone wore some version of the same frightened, hopeless look. At the moment, there were no lawyers preying on the victims.
Zola and Todd arrived first, both dressed casually, and began watching everyone else. They leaned against a wall and waited for Lawyer Upshaw, who soon appeared with a nice suit and an old briefcase. He joined them and they clustered like the others, whispering, waiting as if someone might be chosen at random for an execution.
“I like that guy over there,” Todd said, nodding in the direction of a little round Hispanic man of about forty with a piece of paper and a fidgety wife.
“I like him too,” Zola added with amusement. “He could be our first client.”
“There are so many to choose from,” Mark said, almost under his breath.
Zola said, “Okay, Mr. Big Shot, show us how it’s done.”
Mark swallowed hard, offered them a fake smile, said, “Nothing to it,” and walked over to the couple. As he drew close, the wife lowered her eyes in fear while the husband’s eyes grew larger.
“Excuse me,” Mark said in a low voice. “Are you Mr. Garcia? Looking for Freddy Garcia.”
The man shook his head no, but said nothing. Mark’s eyes seized upon the citation clutched in the guy’s right hand and asked, “Are you going to court?”
Stupid question. Why else would the guy be missing work and waiting outside a courtroom? He nodded quickly, yes, while managing to maintain silence.
“What’s the charge?” Mark asked.
Still not speaking, the man offered the citation, which Mark took and managed to scan with a frown. “Simple assault,” he mumbled. “This could be bad. You been to court before, Mr. Lopez?”
Fierce shaking of the head. No. His wife broke her gaze from her shoes and looked at Mark as if she wanted to cry. Other people were moving about as the crowd grew.
“Look, you need a lawyer. Judge Dalrymple can be tough. You understand?” With his free hand, Mark whipped out a brand-new business card and forced it on the guy. “Simple assault can carry some jail time, but I can take care of that. Nothing to worry about. You want some help?”
Nodding yes, yes.
“Okay, look, my fee is a thousand bucks. Can you pay it?”