A Verdict for Love (8 page)

“Just get your purse and whatever,
honey. I’ll explain everything on the way home.”

As Grace hurried off to comply, Chiara
turned to Sheila.

“I resigned.”

“Damn it all!” Sheila couldn’t avoid
the outburst.

“I don’t have time to fill you in
right now so just listen. I want you to get some movers in here.
All of my personal files and anything else that the firm does not
have a legal claim to retain needs to get boxed, put under seal and
sent to storage.”

“Gotcha.”

“Until that is done no one comes in
here. I know this puts you in a bind as well but when the dust
settles I will make sure you aren’t left out in the cold. If anyone
gives you any grief you call me.”

“Gotcha. Go on and don’t worry about a
thing.”

“You’re the best, Sheila.” Chiara gave
her a hug as Grace reappeared. The girl had all she could do to
match Chiara’s long strides to the elevator.

As they stepped off the elevator onto
the fifth floor of the parking deck, they hurried toward the car.
Grace was looking intently at Chiara, having never seen this level
of intensity or anger on her beautiful face.

When they got in, Chiara gunned the
engine and tore out of the parking deck like a wild thing. Grace
was more than a little worried, though on some odd level, Chiara’s
vigorous attitude aroused her. She wasn’t quite sure
why.

When they finally arrived at the house
and parked the car in the garage, Chiara sighed and let out a deep
breath as though relieved. Grace understood somehow that it might
be wise to remain quiet and allow Chiara to tell her what the hell
was going on in her own good time.

Inside the large living room, Chiara
sat down exhaustedly in the big blue leather chair. Grace sat
across from her on the sofa.

“Breathe, Chiara.” Grace said
softly.

Chiara smiled at her and took a good
deep breath before sharing what was going to be some tough
news.

“Grace, our affair was noticed and
frowned upon. Smith called me into his office to tell me that I
should fire you because you’re gay and that I should climb back
into the closet again or they would shut me out.” Chiara cleared
her throat slightly before going on in an even clearer voice, “I
resigned. I also told him I would be suing them for discrimination.
They have absolutely nothing on us in terms of impropriety or
anything else. So you’ve nothing to worry about in terms of your
future or your reputation. But with regard to the firm, you may as
well face the fact that you’re finished there…and so am
I.”

“Oh my God,” Grace said with a shock.
“It’s my fault, Chiara. I shouldn’t have pushed you to be open
about us. I should have been more circumspect about the whole
thing. I’m so sorry.”

Grace began to cry softly, burying her
face in her hands. She trembled slightly.

“No, Grace. No. It’s really not your
fault. A lot of them were looking for a reason, any reason they
could find, to fault me. I almost think they hated promoting me.
They really like having total control of everyone under them. I
played along for years but always held something back. They never
liked that.” She continued, “I could have laid down for them and
played dead again. But today I said no to it all! I’m taking my
life back. What you and I have found together could never be
replaced by big yearly bonuses and that view of the
skyline”

“What do you mean?” Grace asked,
wiping away her tears.

“What I mean is that I am going to sue
the hell out of them. This is a civil rights violation as plain as
day. They were ready to fire you and me for being gay. That, my
dear, though still being fought through the courts on a case by
case basis, is illegal.”

Grace sat back, feeling proud of
Chiara for being so brave in the face of this kind of Philistine
behavior on the part of people who had disguised themselves as her
friends.

“I have enough money to get us by,
more than enough. And I am going to retain another lawyer to fight
for us. Tamika Jones is a civil rights expert who is way outside
their circle of influence.”

Grace moved over onto her lap, kissing
away the lines that were spoiling Chiara’s usually smooth
brow.

Chiara loosened up a bit and allowed
herself to be comforted by the touch, enjoying the feeling of soft
fingers running through her long dark hair.

They snuggled in the big blue leather.
It was a bond, an unspoken mutual determination to fight against
the injustice that was being hurled at them. They were destined to
remain together and nothing was going to come between
them.

Later that night, Chiara carefully
slipped out of bed. She had too much on her mind to sleep but
didn’t want to wake Grace.

Chiara considered making an
appointment with Tamika Brown for the following afternoon but was
thinking it might be better to just show up. They had never met
though Chiara had caught the woman in action one afternoon in
Fulton County Superior Court some years back.

Brown had taken a company to task over
a discrimination case filed by a young black woman. She had held
their feet to the fire. That company no longer existed except as a
name on some worthless stock certificates. They would go kicking
and screaming but verdicts like Ms. Brown had won were a sure sign
that the days of the white guard and their carte blanche were
ending. Yes she would go in person.

With that settled she was able to ease
back in alongside Grace and drift off.

T
he
down at the heels building off Boulevard in the Old Fourth Ward had
once been a hotel. Its upper two stories were only leased out for
storage now. What had once been the lobby had become office space
shared by the local Legal Aid services and Tamika Brown. The desks,
chairs and benches scattered around the unpartitioned space were a
motley collection, all second hand. A high molded ceiling and
cracked marble floor were the last remnants of the hotel’s once
genteel glory.

Attorney Brown had bought the building
after receiving one of the few sizable settlements of her career.
She allowed Legal Aid to operate there as well. It was a gift from
her but also a tax write-off. Tamika enjoyed the semi-privacy of
what had been the manager’s office. It was “semi” because with no
intercom the door was left open so she and her secretary, Alice,
could shout through it over the neighboring din.

All the noise was generated by the
Legal Aid activity. Most every day the two pro bono lawyers and
their handful of volunteer assistants struggled to sort out the
problems of dozens of troubled souls. Before switching to injury
litigation Tamika had cut her legal teeth working for civil rights
in just such environments. The organized chaos didn’t really bother
her but Alice was a different story.

“Y’all win a big settlement,
girlfriend, y’all best move us outta here. I needs fo’ walls and
some peace and quiet to work in!”

Tamika had promised but no such case
was likely anytime soon. Her practice was simply too small to
handle class action suits effectively and she still had too much
self-respect to snake around outside hospital waiting rooms. Though
it might come to that soon. Her bank account badly needed a shot in
the arm. She had just finished on the phone with a county filing
clerk when Alice poked her head in.

“There’s a white lady out here wants to
see y’all an’ she wearin’ monay wid a capital M.”

“What do mean by wearing
money?”

“I mean she wearin’ mo’ on her back
than y’all paid me this year.” Alice answered archly.

“Well don’t let her get away then.”
Tamika laughed.

The woman came through the door and
Tamika saw that Alice’s assessment had been right on. This one
looked like she would be more at home strolling around Phipps
Plaza. Dulce and Gabbana threads were seldom seen around the Old
Fourth Ward. She introduced herself and Tamika returned the favor
over their handshake.

“Just dust off a chair and sit
down.”

“Thank you.”

“Hmmm….Chiara Bianchi? Your name is
ringing a bell…” she snapped her fingers, “Got it now! The Shay
business.”

Chiara waved it off with a deprecating
smile. Realizing who Chiara was caused Tamika’s eyes to narrow in
speculation.

“Well you may as well tell me why
you’re here. I know it’s not to hire me into your fancy
firm.”

“I’m no longer with that fancy firm,
Ms. Brown.”

“Look, just call me Tamika. Ok…so why
are you here?”

“I do want to hire you. But to
represent me and a friend.”

“Uh huh…So you suing or being
sued?”

“Suing…my former firm.”

Tamika let out a low whistle and then a
short laugh. The phrase ‘former firm’ was very telling. The lady
wanted to launch a vendetta.

“You want little ol’ me to go in
against one of the best connected firms in the whole state? Did you
walk in here with blinders on? Alice out there and yours truly are
the only players in my act, baby doll.”

“Oh, I have checked you out completely.
I think you are just who we need...for very specific reasons.”
Chiara stated calmly.

“Such as?”

“Considering the limited resources at
your disposal you have an admirable record. I caught your ‘act’ as
you call it once. You were good. You know how to connect with
jurors…and you are an African-American woman.”

“And just what plus is my race for
you?”

“One of the things I will have going
for me against the good ol’ boys and their connections will be that
any jury selected is probably going to be an ethnic mix of men and
women.”

“Oh yes, I see now. Just why did they
dump you? According to the paper you were a star over
there.”

“I resigned. They fired my
friend…actually my lover. They got their balls in an uproar over
the fact that she and I have a lesbian relationship.”

Tamika burst out laughing.

“Is it me being coerced into giving up
a fifteen year career or my sexuality that you find so
funny?”

“No…none of that. Please excuse me.”
Tamika’s face turned sober, “It was just your choice of words.
Look…Miss Bianchi… I really don’t think I am your best choice for
this.”

Instead of answering Chiara switched on
the little pocket recorder. She watched as Tamika listened to the
replay of the exchange with Peter Smith. At the end of it she
nodded.

“That is incriminating but did he agree
to a recorded conversation? If not you know they’ll move to
suppress.”

“Probably so but it could be played for
the judge in chambers which might help. Look, I want your help and
not to be rude but it seems as though you could use some cash flow
here.” Chiara gave the office a slow once over to punctuate her
point.

A third voice intruded.

“Lady, I ain’t never seen no rude
money. Y’all best he’p this nice lady out now, girlfriend.” It was
Alice hanging in the doorway. Her curiosity had demanded some
eavesdropping.

“Get the hell back on out there and
close that door!” Tamika scolded. Alice made a face but
obeyed.

“You should listen to her. I don’t
expect you to gamble on this. I’m willing to pay a guaranteed
retainer.”

“You’re mixed up if you think my work
on civil rights also puts me out there for gay rights. I don’t know
anything about…I mean I never…” Tamika stammered, “It’s not my zip
code…I don’t roll that way.”

It was Chiara’s turn to laugh. “Hey
don’t sweat it, baby doll,” she mocked, “it’s not
contagious.”

Tamika was so used to the shabby
confines of the office that its appearance had lost any importance.
But she had to admit that it was probably a turn off for any but
the poorest and most desperate client.

“What amount did you have in mind as a
retainer?” she asked.

Chiara opened her purse and extracted
two neatly banded packets of crisp green hundreds. She laid them on
the desk and tapped the cash with a perfectly manicured
finger.

“Two grand to seal the deal and eight
more before you face the jury.”

Tamika knew Alice would be out there
with her ear to the door. If she didn’t pick up the money she’d be
dead before she ever heard the end of it. Hell, it was not as if
she didn’t want the money. It was that she was not at all sure she
could beat the system on such a case. In Georgia they didn’t wave
rainbow banners…they waved Confederate flags. And she hated
losing.

“It might be hard for you as an
attorney to follow my lead…”

“No. You’d be the boss on this.” Chiara
promised.

Chiara waited through a long silent
pause and was finally able to smile when Tamika reached for the
green.

“Ok. Let’s see if we can’t put a
squeeze on those roaring balls you mentioned.”

They both laughed together this
time.

A
t
111 West Peachtree Peter Smith had called a war council. This time
in the same conference room Chiara and Grace had used. In addition
to the partners Adam Clay was present. He was the ace litigator
they had chosen to bring in from Barnes, Lee and Stuart.