12:13 p.m.
“I CAN be there by four,” Cooper told the annoying jerk on the other end of the line.
“As I told you, there are no appointments available today,” said the annoying jerk, who was somehow employed by the top divorce lawyer in the City of Brotherly Love despite being an annoying jerk. “Or for the remainder of the week.”
“And as I told you, this is a professional matter, not a personal one,” Cooper said. “I don’t need a divorce lawyer. I’m already happily divorced.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that there are no appointments available.”
“Tell him it’s Cooper Lamb. Chuck knows me!”
“Chuck knows a lot of people.”
“Do you realize how disrespectful you’re being?”
“I think I’m being extremely respectful of my boss’s time.”
Ordinarily, Cooper Lamb would opt for the dripping-with-honey approach. Kindness and flattery—maybe even a harmless bribe—worked most of the time. But ten seconds into the phone conversation, Cooper had known he was up against a different type of gatekeeper. One who’d been hired because he was a sadist who took great delight in swatting away all potential distractions.
“Let me guess,” Cooper said. “You’re a UPenn grad. You’ve got that Ivy League arrogance about you.”
“Insulting me won’t magically open a time slot.”
“No, but it might make you realize how much you don’t want me showing up uninvited at your office at four p.m.”
“Is that a threat?”
“You catch on quick! You are a UPenn grad!”
“No, but I am a former Temple running back, and I will happily escort you to the sidewalk if you even dream of showing up here without an appointment. In fact, I hope you do. Then I could skip my evening workout.”
Cooper liked this guy. Of course, the dude was still an annoying jerk. But the ex-jock’s passion for quick, insulting responses was admirable. Few people took such joy in their work. Even fewer threatened physical violence so eagerly.
“Listen, Mr. Temple Owl, I’ve gotta go pick my kids up from school. And they get cranky if I don’t take them for a snack right away. But you’ll be seeing me at four p.m.”
“Looking forward to it, Mr. Lamb. I suspect it’s been a while since anyone kicked your ass.”
“You’d be surprised,” Cooper replied. “Do you want me to get you anything from Reading Terminal while I’m there? Maybe a cannoli?”
“I don’t want a cannoli.”
“Who the hell would turn down a free Termini Brothers cannoli? There’s something seriously wrong with you. See you at four.”
The annoyance spiked in the assistant’s voice: “Don’t you d—”