December 23, 1969

The mayoral campaign ended, not ignominiously—or at least not as ignominiously as it could have, had J.T. been hacked to pieces by a hail of flying ballots intended for his opponents. Rather than face that inevitability, J.T. deftly removed himself from the race before the balloting, hinting to his media friends that his actions were prompted by an altruistic desire not to split the Republican Party and fragment any chance it might have to succeed in the general election.

Old Deveraux, shortly after J.T.’s mayoral retreat, resigned from the law firm, leaving the irascible young man with the puffy eyes and vaulting ambition to run the place himself. Deveraux was supposed to receive a check from the firm each week, but he always had to call twice before it was mailed.

J.T. kept Deveraux’s old furniture. It was expensive to buy new furniture, and now that J.T. was spending his own money, he found it rather difficult to be lavish. Thus, although some chairs were wobbly and not in any sense commodious, J.T. still used them. After all, his clients didn’t come to see W. & J. Sloane, they came to see J.T. Wright.

And clients did come, all kinds of clients: corporations, socialites, big name criminals, the entire fabric of humanity—well-heeled humanity, that is.

To give the appearance of being tremendously busy, however, J.T. never saw anyone who sought his legal assistance. Not at first, anyway. Levine would interview all new clients. Levine had joined J.T.’s firm as soon as the hubbub about the Tauber affair died down. When clients finally did enter J.T.’s sanctum sanctorum, they found that J.T. had even less time and money to waste on furniture than he spent on clothes.

Levine invariably did the research in J.T.’s office, drew the legal papers, and put together the arguments, which he hurriedly whispered to J.T. as they ran up the stairs of the courthouse, just in time for J.T. to repeat what he could remember to the court or jury.

J.T. missed Marty. True, Levine was useful, but theirs was nothing more than a business relationship. It had been different with Marty. At the end of their relationship, there was not much left of them in an emotional sense. But they had had their days. He would never be that close with Levine; probably not ever again with anyone. He had no time for such things. There was too much to do, too much to take care of, too far to go. He had no time to rest.

DeValen was still involved in acquisitions, still expanding, and J.T. was still on retainer with DeValen, although the guaranteed retainer had expired. J.T. saw DeValen rarely now, either socially or as his attorney. He had new clients to pursue.

With his seemingly boundless store of energy, J.T. was able to maintain the public image of a dynamic man on the go. But secretly he wasn’t satisfied with anything, particularly himself. There was always something just beyond his grasp. If he could only go fast enough and run hard enough, he’d catch up to it. He knew he’d get there if he concentrated only on going fast, and let nothing get in his way.

“Merry Christmas,” said his secretary as she stood in the doorway of J.T.’s office. She had her coat on, and a pile of brightly wrapped packages in her hand.

“Merry Christmas,” J.T. said, a momentary smile on his face.

The girl turned happily and disappeared.

Good thing I’m going to Acapulco, J.T. said to himself. This town is going to be absolutely deadsville for the next week and a half. No one’s going to be doing anything. He straightened out some of the papers on his desk. Won’t be able to get anything done here. At least I can meet some new clients in Acapulco.