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TEDDY AND I WENT OUR separate ways after the last hurrah in my old office. My meeting with Nick Pierce and his lawyers was the next morning, and I couldn’t afford to be up all night, no matter how enticing that idea was. Teddy didn’t seem to mind, and we parted ways breathlessly.
The aerobic activity sent me straight to sleep when I got home, allowing me to wake refreshed and ready to face my greatest adversary. I had done so much work in preparation, there wasn’t anything left to do at the eleventh hour. I had a decent breakfast of a whole wheat muffin and egg, took a shower, shaved, and got dressed. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I could see the affect Teddy had on me. I was invigorated. I knew no matter what happened that day, I could go home and see her that night. It lent a calm reserve to my appearance that was unmistakable, though most people wouldn’t know where it came from.
The meeting was to be at Pierce’s lawyers’ office. We had conceded the home field advantage because we wanted to get the deal over with. It wouldn’t solve anything to bicker over whose office had the better view, since we both recognized it for what it was: a pissing contest. Nick and his team took it as a win that we had capitulated. My lawyer and I didn’t care. We’d agreed to let them push as far as they wanted to. In the end, we were going to win, and that was the only thing that mattered.
I circled the building after the GPS pointed it out. I still had ten minutes until the meeting time, but I knew they couldn’t start without me. Finally locating a parking spot, I eased my way in, pressing the parking brake. I didn’t bring anything with me other than my wallet. My attorney had all the files; I didn’t need to do anything other than show up.
The building was impressive. Classy smoked glass enveloped the front, with golden trim on the door handle. I breezed through, knowing that Pierce was spending a fortune on legal representation. It was all about appearances, and while I appreciated their posturing, I was anything but impressed. It would take a palace to impress me, and this downtown office with its sky-high rents fell far short of the Taj Mahal.
The secretary was efficient but cold. She glanced up at me through bifocals, pausing in her typing to give me an up and down look that told me she was estimating the size of my bank account. I wore a suit that probably exceeded the annual income of their paralegals, so I let her look.
“Brad Miller,” I said.
“I know who you are,” she countered.
I wasn’t sure what to do with that. Of course, my name was out there in the business pages and the local social scene. I wasn’t unfamiliar with being recognized; it was just the way she said it, as if I were a cockroach that had scurried into the place and demanded equal representation under the law.
“What room are we meeting in?” I asked politely.
“2B,” she answered. “Take the elevator up to the second floor, and it’s right in front of you.”
“Thanks,” I left her to whatever important task she was working on, feeling her eyes on my back as I waited for the elevator.
In the conference room, my lawyer was stationed on one side of a massive table, facing down a pack of attorneys all on his own. He smiled warmly when I arrived, gesturing toward the chair beside him. I spared a glance at the other side of the room, counting four lawyers in addition to Pierce himself.
“Miller,” Pierce said.
“Pierce,” I identified him as blandly as he had done me.
“Thank you for coming,” my lawyer opened, exponentially more gracious than anyone else in the meeting.
“Are you ready to play ball?” Pierce asked.
Two of his lawyers glanced over, raising a hand to caution him against too much chatter. I chose not to dignify his snide remark with an answer, sitting down in an attempt to bring the meeting to order.
Pierce’s team opened with a declaration of innocence. They threatened to counter sue for defamation of character, pointing to my recent legal troubles as proof of my shady character. I kept my mouth shut throughout their diatribe, knowing that we had a secret weapon to deploy. When it was our turn, my lawyer looked the enemy leader straight in the eye and said no.
“We’re not going to accede to any of your demands, and I’ll tell you why. We’ve got you by the balls.” It was a crude turn of phrase, but there were no women present. Sometimes you have to take the gloves off and get down in the dirt to make a point. No one blinked an eye, and no one objected, though Pierce’s lawyers seemed surprised.
My lawyer took copies Alyssa’s bank statement out of his briefcase and slid them over to the other camp. He gave them a beat to appreciate what they were looking at, and then topped it off with Retro’s financials showing a check going out of the company account on the same day. We had photos from social media depicting Pierce living it up after the sale, along with some cryptic postings in his own words that alluded to the fact that he had walked out of the deal with more than he should have.
It was damning evidence. The only thing we didn’t have were Pierce’s bank accounts, showing the second half of the pilfered funds. But it would be enough to convince a judge, and that was all that counted.
I watched Pierce’s face go from self-satisfied to afraid, the color draining from his features in a glorious display of failure. He was trapped, and he knew it. There was no way he was going to get any money from me, previous lawsuits notwithstanding. My lawyer was right; we did indeed have them ‘by the balls.’
They took all the evidence and turned inward to confer with each other. I caught strings of words and even entire phrases but tuned them out to give them the illusion of privacy. There was only one direction that they could turn, and I didn’t need to watch the gears shifting.
“...where it came from...”
“...too many coincidences...”
“...settlement...”
I turned to my own lawyer and whispered, “They never saw it coming.”
“Poker face,” he whispered back.
I couldn’t help but smile. With all the business dealings I had conducted in my life, I should have known how to maintain a stoic appearance, but I was jumping for joy inside, and it was obvious. There was no way out for the man across the table. He had been a thorn in my side for too long. I allowed myself a quiet, victorious smile, knowing that they were watching.
When they were ready to come back to the bargaining table, the only question was how much? How much would it cost them to settle the deal and walk away unscathed?
“We only want the exact amount that your client stole,” my lawyer said. “We’re not interested in pain and suffering.”
That information lit a fire under the opposing counsel. They turned to their client in unison, practically begging him to take the deal. Pierce himself was savvy enough to know a gift horse when it was presented to him. I could have easily asked for millions to cover the costs of my time and agony in dealing with his bullshit.
What I wanted was enough money to make the payments that should have been made almost a year ago. That was it. I didn’t care about making a point—or making an enemy. I just wanted to set things right, and though it took a lawsuit to get my way, I didn’t need to punish the man.
“Where did you get Alyssa’s bank statement?” Pierce asked suspiciously.
“We have a crackerjack team of financial researchers,” I lied smoothly.
There was no way I was going to out Alyssa for the one action she had taken to help me. Our relationship had been volcanic and painful for the most part. We’d come together in a pantheon of lust that had fizzled out when she dumped me to run off to Paris. Her consistent attempts to win me back afterward only helped nail the coffin shut, but she had come through in the end. It was the least I could do to protect her identity as our informant from her father. After all, she had to live with the man for the rest of his life.
“That can’t be legal,” one of the enemy attorneys speculated.
“I assure you, it was entirely legal,” my lawyer responded.
“Fine,” Pierce muttered, pulling out his checkbook.
“You can send my office a cashier’s check.” My lawyer stopped him, collecting the evidence back from the opposing team.
“Gentlemen,” I said, standing up.
We left them in the dust, cruising out the front door like champion football players after a winning homecoming game. I even winked at the secretary on the way out. It was a petty action and potentially dangerous in a law firm, but I didn’t care. I’d bested the whole damned lot of them. Score one for the good guys.
