A week went by. Steve didn’t hear from LaSalle or his buddy, but he did spend their money.
He gave Slbodnik another check, one that wouldn’t bounce. And bought a new suit. Not an expensive one. Off the rack. But it at least made him feel like he was on the way up again.
There was a DUI that settled on Monday. If it had gone to trial, Steve would have been able to get another fifteen hundred dollars from the client. But he well knew most of the time that things settled. DUIs were a volume business. You could scrape by if you got a lot and pled out most. But this was the only DUI on Steve’s plate. He started counting the days when LaSalle would get out and hand him five more grand. At the very least he could have a good long talk about what happened, what kid was burned in that fire. And why LaSalle was contacting him now, after all these years.
Steve spat out a form motion for reduced sentence and credit for time served, to be used in the Mendez sentencing.
On Thursday afternoon he was in his office and got a call.
“Wanted to check in,” Sienna said. “I hadn’t heard from you.”
“What? Was I supposed to call you?”
“I’m checking to see if you’re okay.”
“Sure I’m okay. Why shouldn’t I be okay?” He stopped himself.
“Look, sorry, okay? I was sort of on the downslope back there. Now maybe I’m on the upslope. A paying client and everything.”
“LaSalle?”
“You’ve got a good memory.”
“It was only a week ago.”
“Yeah, LaSalle.”
“What’s he want?”
“I don’t know yet. He’s not out.”
“You may need some help.”
Steve laughed. “You would still consider working with me? After the way I treated you?”
“Let’s just say I’m still looking for some work.”
“When do you want to start?” He imagined her walking into his office again, saw her at the door. Keep hope alive, Reverend Jackson.
“Anytime,” she said.
Go for it. “How about now?”
“Now?”
“How long will it take you to get here?”
An hour, as it turned out. She was dressed in a soft blue blouse with a silver cross necklace, and jeans. She had her hair down. It was long and silky. Made Steve think of a Fourth of July picnic, and the green flecks in her eyes were sparklers.
“Do you know anything about dead bodies in California?” Steve asked.
“It’s nice to see you too,” she said.
“Come on in.” He closed the door behind her. “The law of exhumation. As in, if I want to have a body exhumed, what do I do?”
“You want me to find out?”
“That’s what I hired you for, isn’t it?”
“Hired?”
“I’ll cut you a check right now.”
As she typed away at the computer, researching in a California-specific legal database, Steve looked at her silver cross.
“So, are you a Catholic like Madonna?”
She kept her eyes on the screen. “Nobody’s a Catholic like Madonna.”
“Good point. Catholic?”
“No.”
“Fundamentalist? Evangelical?”
“Christian.”
“Theocratic government type? Or laid-back, pro-choice type?”
She cast a quick look at Steve. “You want me to research here, or talk about religion?”
“You ever heard of multitasking? Come on, I’m interested.”
“You know, don’t you, that under California law you can’t ask me that question.”
“As a basis for employment. I’m just asking as a fellow human being. I still qualify there, don’t I?”
She stopped typing. “Okay. You have to file a request with the court and cc the county coroner’s office. There’s a form with points and authorities. You want me to print it?”
“You’re very good,” Steve said.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She hit the print command and Steve’s printer started spitting pages.
“Maybe now would be a good time to formalize our agreement,” she said. “How does fifty an hour sound?”
“Expensive.”
“I’ll take that as a yes too.”
“On a per project basis,” Steve said. “I don’t want you billing me while you’re playing golf. You can do that after you pass the bar.”
“Done,” she said.
He would have paid her twice that. Because he wanted her around. He was liking her. She was smart and attractive. Not surface-level beautiful like some airbrushed model on the cover of Vogue. Hers was a more substantial allure.
Like Ashley’s. She was an Ashley type, and he was on the rebound.
So what? What was wrong with a rebound? It could be the best thing in the world bouncing your way, and you could miss it, and he had missed so many things already. Years of missing things, feeling things were just out of reach — like a sense of normalcy. Big deal. Rebound. Take it. Start majoring in the art of forgetting Ashley.
“It’s almost dinnertime,” he said. “You have any plans?”
She narrowed her gaze. “It’s also not wise for an employer to make a social move.”
“You going to sue me?”
“I am going to go home. I’ll be available next week.”
“For dinner?”
“For research. Thanks for the check. Are you ready for Monday?”
“What’s Monday?”
“Mendez sentencing.”
“Oh, right. As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“If you need me, you know the number.”