These Foolish Things (3 page)

Liz put her hand over her bad eye. It was hurting even
worse. “Dan, I don’t care if you’re playing with the Budweiser Clydesdales. You
know how I feel about going into court. Get someone else or do it yourself. I’m
not prepared.”

Dan was smooth. “Sure you are. Like I said, you wrote all
the memos and pleadings and they’re great, Liz, really fantastic. Very tightly
argued. Liz, you know this case better than I do. You’re the man.” Liz looked
at him sharply. “Okay, you’re the woman.”

“You want me to go into a courtroom looking like this?” Liz
pointed to her eye.

“Might be good for sympathy points.” Dan was still grinning.
Liz could have rammed her knee into his private parts, probably with the
encouragement and cheering of Dan’s long-suffering wife and any other woman who
had ever met him.

Liz looked at her calendar again. “You’re just trying to
avoid Judge McCafferty, aren’t you?”

Dan scowled. Bingo, thought Liz.

“He hates me,” said Dan. “The man is a lunatic. F.L.
McCafferty. Stands for “Fucking Loon” if you ask me. I can’t set foot in his
courtroom without getting some kind of bullshit contempt citation.”

“Maybe that has something to do with you trying to hit on
his daughter-in-law in front of him and his son a couple of years ago, Dan.” Dan
Dennis was a dedicated skirt chaser.

Dan’s scowl deepened even more. “Yeah, well, I get sick of
hearing ‘Did you bring your toothbrush, Counselor?’ every time I open my mouth.
You go argue the motion.”

Liz sighed. “Is that an order?”

“If it’ll get you to do it, yeah.” Dan unseated himself from
Liz’s desk and practiced chip shots with an imaginary golf club.

She shrugged. “Who am I arguing against?”

Dan shielded his eyes to watch an imaginary tee shot bounce
a non-existent 250 yards straight down an 18th fairway at Augusta that was only
in Dan’s mind, along with a politely enthusiastic gallery and an imaginary
Tiger Woods clapping him on the back. Liz wondered for a split second if she
could get him committed.

“Tyrone Hadley.” Dan eventually answered.

Liz was on her feet. “What? No way!”

Dan looked at her curiously. “What’s the problem?”

Liz pointed to her shiner, its impressive swelling and
extensive range of colors. “Who do you think did this to me, Dan? It wasn’t the
Easter Bunny.” Not to mention, she didn’t want to make her maiden argument in
front of a notoriously picky judge. This was a nightmare. She hoped. All she
needed was to look down and see herself naked and she could take comfort in
knowing that she was just dreaming. Liz looked down.

She was fully clothed. Dammit.

Dan putted out on an invisible 18th green. Liz wanted to
wrap the imaginary graphite shaft around his neck. Apparently, he sank it,
because Dan looked up, smiling.

“Okay, so you beat him in a softball game on a very close
call at home. What’s the big deal? I mean it’s not like you’ve slept with him
and he never called you.” Dan looked at her curiously. “Have you?”

Liz closed her eye. “No, Dan, I haven’t slept with him.” Dan
shrugged. “Didn’t think so. You’re not his type.” He frowned and looked hard at
her. “Come to think of it, whose type ARE you? I never see you with anyone.”

Liz cut him off, “You know, this is the kind of conversation
that’ll get me hundreds of thousands of dollars in a harassment suit.” His
words stung. “Besides, you’ve got me working too many hours for a social life.”

Dan headed for the door. “Whatever. Go argue the motion. If
White offers settlement, refuse. Frankly, I think they’re both idiots, but as
long as Randazzo’s checks don’t bounce, I don’t give a damn. Oh and one more
thing,” Dan paused before he actually exited. “Make sure you remind Hadley he
lost a bet to me on the game. He owes me $1,500. Get it.” With that, Dan closed
the door and he was gone. Liz sank down into her seat and gingerly buried her
head in her hands. She had to go to court. Wonderful. That was cause for
main-lining antacids. She had to argue the Randazzo v. White case, which was
basically a pissing contest between cousins-in-law. Bring on the aspirin. She
had to do it with a black eye and no preparation. And, the frosting on the cake
was that she was making her courtroom debut against Tyrone Hadley. If God was
truly merciful, Liz reflected, He’d kill her right now.

She buzzed for Corey.

“Yes, Madam Cyclops?”

Liz scowled at the intercom. “Don’t start, Corey or I’ll
hand you over to Dan as his new assistant. I need the Randazzo file in its
entirety and I need it yesterday, along with a Notice of Appearance.”

There was a pause. “You’re serious.”

“I’m due in McCafferty’s courtroom at 10:30 AM and I’d like
to be somewhat prepared. Move, Corey.”

Within minutes, Liz not only had the Randazzo file, but
Millie and Corey. Corey wouldn’t have to be subjected to any torture greater
than cutting up his Filene’s card to get him to spill his guts, so naturally he
had stopped to tell Millie on his way to retrieve the file. Millie’s face
registered astonishment.

“You’re actually going to court. For God’s sake, Liz, why?”

Liz looked at Millie. “I didn’t volunteer, if that’s what
you’re thinking. Let’s look at this logically. Dan Dennis is the attorney of
record. The presiding judge is F.L. McCafferty. I believe Dan’s contempt fines
in front of Hizzoner are equal to Rhode Island’s annual budget. Dan claims he’s
scheduled to play golf at The Country Club in Brookline with a couple of
Bruins, although knowing him, it could be a guy in a bear suit and miniature
golf at that dinosaur place in Saugus.” Liz smiled ruefully. “I must be stupid
or a masochist because I keep working for the guy.”

She smiled bleakly. “Want to hear the kicker?”

Both Millie and Corey nodded.

“I have to make this argument against Tyrone Hadley.”

Corey clutched his chest and Millie clutched her head.
“You’re kidding.” They looked at each other.

“The psychic was right,” Millie said, wide-eyed. “Oh, my God.”

“This is so cool,” whispered Corey. “Liz got swept off her
feet by her dream man and now she’s going to see him again.” He snapped his
fingers. “Now, Liz. THIS is your novel. This is a million seller, guaranteed.”

Liz shook her head impatiently, a move she regretted because
it made her eye hurt even more. “That is such bullshit. It’s a coincidence,
that’s all. Besides, he didn’t sweep me off my feet. He knocked me on my ass.
There’s a difference.”

“What are you going to do, Liz?” asked Millie.

Liz opened the file. “Kick the two of you out so I can
prepare and pray. After court, I plan to drink. Heavily.” The two took the hint
and left. Liz buried herself in the file.

Close to the appointed hour, Liz paused outside the
courtroom to which her case had been assigned. She’d done her best to focus on
the case and the facts, but here she was outside a courtroom and shaking. The
last courtroom exercise she’d had in law school, Liz had spent the half-hour
before it in the ladies room, throwing up. She’d won her argument, but the
stage fright never went away.

She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and entered
what she considered a private hell. It wasn’t bad enough that she was about to
make her first argument as an attorney. She was also alone, felt unprepared and
couldn’t see out of her right eye. Liz smiled at the bailiff who directed her
to the defense table with raised eyebrows. He didn’t say anything but stared
pointedly at Liz’s eye. She didn’t offer an explanation, just busied herself
retrieving files from her briefcase and trying to will herself not to throw up.
All she needed was five minutes, clear, free and silent in which to gather her
forces to meet her impending doom with courage and grace.

No such luck.

“Counselor.”

The voice. Masculine, deep and with a rough edge. A fleeting
thought went through Liz’s mind: the only piece needed to complete this jigsaw
puzzle of stress would be a fire breaking out in the courtroom.Liz turned
toward the voice. He was standing on her blind side.

Elizabeth Gardner once again found herself face to face with
Tyrone Hadley.

Instead of a baseball shirt, shorts and cleats, Liz found
herself looking at a man clad in an expensive navy blue suit with a conservative
silk tie. She wondered if his initials were monogrammed on the cuff of his
shirt. Could be. His clothes fit him like they were all custom made, even the
highly polished shoes. She felt shabby by comparison and the eye didn’t help
matters. Liz unconsciously rubbed the toe of her right shoe against her left
leg, trying to add shine to it.

“Counselor.” Liz returned the greeting.

“How’s the eye?” Hadley asked the question casually. He was
leaning against the plaintiff’s table, arms crossed. Liz was aware that
although the pose was relaxed, he was taking in everything. Including and
especially her.

“It’s just a black eye. How are you?” It was then that she
noticed a cut on Hadley’s lip and a faint bruise near his eye. “Oh, no. Don’t
tell me.”

Hadley smiled tightly. “Two of your buddies escorted me
outside the bar after the post-game and roughed me up. One was the guy you
called Joey and I didn’t get the name of the other guy.”

“Rocco Metucci. Joey’s best friend. I’m sorry. Those two get
to be a little overprotective. If you like, I can have a word with Joey’s Mom
and she’ll flatten both of them for you.”

Hadley chuckled. The sound went through Liz in a pleasant
zinging sensation. “That’s okay. I guess we’re even now. By the way, we weren’t
formally introduced the other day.” He stepped forward and offered his hand to
Liz.

“Tyrone Hadley.”

Liz took his hand. He had a firm grip and a softness that
showed these hands hadn’t been used for manual labor. She remembered the touch
against her face and felt herself getting hot. She wanted those hands on her,
everywhere. But, for now:

“Elizabeth Gardner. Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Hadley.”

He chuckled again. She felt the zinging and a desire to kiss
him again. “My friends call me Ty.”

“Liz.”

He still held her hand and she wasn’t about to end the
contact.

“Where’s Dan? I thought I’d be arguing against him today.” Ty
looked around, the action pulling his hand away from hers.

“He had an emergency and since we’re just arguing motions…”
Liz couldn’t believe she could say that and sound casual. “He asked me to pinch
hit.”

Ty chuckled again. “Let me guess. Either he got invited to
the Country Club in Brookline or he finally realized that McCafferty’s hearing
the case.”

Liz smiled in return. “Both.”

“He give you any great advice this morning?”

“If I remember rightly, his parting words were to remind you
that you lost $1,500 betting on the game and I should be the one to collect.
Didn’t that kind of thing get Pete Rose banned from baseball?” Liz tried to
keep it light.

Ty nodded. “Sounds like Dan. He has his priorities.”

Liz crossed her arms. “Well, I’ve done my duty and delivered
the message.” Damn Dan for putting her in this position. She could feel the
shaking beginning, not from the impending proceeding, but from being so close
to an attractive man. She stood up and perched herself on the desk. Liz’s gut
told her that it would be good to be at eye level with Tyrone.

Ty folded his arms. “So, was there a big celebration at
Hoffman, Lovell and Dennis? Did they carry you around on their shoulders?”

Liz laughed softly, relaxing a little. “You were present for
the only victory celebration we had. And thank you for the drink, by the way.

“No. Nothing special at the office this morning. Let’s see.
I had some people singing ‘I get knocked down, but I get up again’. Another
group broke into Queen’s ‘We Are the Champions’ in a wonderful four-part
harmony. The ultimate,” she continued, “was a Johnny Mercer enthusiast who
treated me to a chorus of ‘Something’s Gotta Give’ in a very fine baritone.”

Ty frowned. “How does that one go? I can’t quite remember.”

Liz laughed. “Something about ‘when the irresistible force
meets the unmovable object…’”

“‘Something’s gotta give, something’s gotta give,
something’s gotta give’” they finished together and both laughed.

“Look, I’m sorry about your eye.” Ty offered. “You’d be the
unmoveable object. Do you always stand your ground like that? I thought for
sure you’d have sense enough to get out of the way. I didn’t intend for you to
end up looking like Tony Conigliaro.”

“Wrong eye,” said Liz. She raised her chin and met his gaze
with her good eye, saying quietly and firmly. “I stood my ground because I had
to. I wasn’t going to be the one who lost her nerve and lost the game. Anyway,
as the wise man once said ‘that’s how the game is played.’” She noticed that he
looked uncomfortable. Good. “You don’t hold back if you want to win.” She saw a
quick look flash across his face. Respect?

Ty smiled again and chuckled. He spoke. “No, you certainly
don’t but,” He leaned in a little and spoke in a conspiratorial tone, “You and
your friend held back, though. Dan got himself a couple of ringers. I checked
up on you. College softball champ. Nice.”

I could warm myself on the light in those eyes, Liz mused.
She tightened her crossed legs to suppress the shaking.

“We’re legit. Millie and I are both attorneys for this firm.
You can check our billables. We played the entire season for the team, not just
the one game. We just happen to be very, very good at softball.”

“Are you a couple?”

Liz sighed. “Why does everyone assume that all female
softball players are lesbians?” If I was, she thought, do you think I would
have kissed you? “Neither of us is gay. Millie has a boyfriend and I’m…” her
voice faltered as years of rejection tightened her throat, “working too hard
for Dan. It doesn’t leave me a lot of time,” she finished lamely.