Billionaire Secrets of a Wanglorious Bastard (8 page)

“Good. Be in your office tomorrow morning at eight. A client is gonna call you to do a four-hour research assignment.”

“I haven't done criminal law in almost one year.”

“Well, you have all night to jog your memory.”

“I didn't know we did criminal work.”

“Eight in the morning. Don't be late.”

***

I wouldn't wait until eight. I did prep work as soon as I took my morning dump.

I was on a coffee-fueled tear. Frantically reading encyclopedia-sized books like
MASTERS ON CRIMINAL LAW
,
JOHNSON ON CRIMINAL LAW
,
CRIMINAL LAW TREATISES VOLUME XIX
.
 

That night, I fought sleep, burned the midnight oil.

And fell asleep at my desk.

“Rufus.”

It was Tani.
 

I wiped the crust from my eyes. Shit. Had I missed the call? According to my phone light, I hadn’t.

Tani said, “Kind of early.”

“Never left.”

30

I STARED AT
the phone

The clock read “10:00.”
 

Eight, my ass. I was done. I got up to leave. My checked-out library books? Fuck 'em.

The phone rang.

I rushed to it and answered. “Hello?”

A bro voice said, “Rufus?”

“Yes?”

“I never thought I'd get out. Go to your inbox and you'll see my situation. You get me some answers and fax me back in an hour.”

“I thought I had four hours.”

“Things change.”
 

He hung up.

Who was that? Maybe the inbox would tell me. I saw an electronic fax waiting.

The title.

“Burglary?”

31

IN THE LIBRARY,
I waded through rows of books, pulling them off the shelves and piling them on a cart.

In my office, I typed like a madman, frequently thumbing through bunches of books.

At my printer, I saw a paper jam.
 

Of all times? Now? I fiddled with the printer to no avail. I kicked it and it spat out my work. I pounded a number in the fax machine and sent my work. The clock read “11:00.”

I paced and stared at my phone for feedback. At 1:00, I received it.

The phone rang and I picked up.

“Hello?”

“Rufus?”

“Hi. Did you get the fax?”

“Yes.”

“Is it what you wanted?”

He hung up on me.

32

“AND THEN DOUG
got on the subway!” That was Enos. Laughing at some froofy bar for yet another attorney departure.
 

This time it was Xandra.

She didn't even bother showing, which made me sad. I could've used one of her hugs. It was more action than I got from Rhage, that was for damn sure.

Tani said to me, “When we were summer associates, this guy named Doug—”

Enos butted in. “He said, I'm sorry, I thought it was the fish!”

Tani chortled. “That's right!”

Everyone busted out laughing. Everyone but me. I flashed a fake-ass smile. Inside I cried.
 

Tani said, “Rufus, you just had to be there to get it.”

Enos said, “And Johnny?”

Tani wildly waved his arms. “I'm sitting down. I'm sitting down.”

Someone I didn't recognize said, “That's him, man! Oh shit! You got him down!”

He high-fived Tani.
 

I tried to laugh. “Sitting down on what?”

Tani said, “You should have been there, Rufus.”

Enos said, “Yeah, you really missed out.”

No accent? I needed to cover for him. “That's a great American accent you're putting on, Hiro.”

Tani said, “He's my hero.” He raised his glass. “Who else could pull it off?”

Did Tani mean Enos pulling off the Hiro stunt or Hiro putting on an American accent? I felt really hot and sweaty.
 

Enos pointed at me. “You really care, cuz. Thank you.”

I scanned the bar. “Are you sure it's safe?”

Enos said, “Why wouldn't it be?”

I said, “If you get caught, you're—”

Enos said, “Set for life.”

I said, “How's that?”

Enos leaned in to me. “Partners assuming I'm Japanese? Confusing me with another associate—”

Tani said, “Who summered with us, but never came back.”

Enos took a swig. “Set for life.”

I said, “What about his checks?”

Enos said, “I get paid in cash. Remember that envelope Gladys gave me on your first day?”

Could it be that easy? “Wouldn't you be seen as a willing participant?”

Enos burped. “They created a hostile work environment for me. I told a partner that I really was Enos. That there was a mistake. But they still called me Hiro. So I feared losing my job.”

I said, “Which partner?”

Enos said, “The best one. A dead one.” He toasted Tani. “Of course. I'm rich in this bitch. You, on the other hand, need protection.”

I didn't want to hear it. “Not interested.”

Enos said, “Rufus, we have a good gig here at Krueller. Nobody knows we're related because they're all inbred idiots. They have no clue that we have each other's back.”

“What about Tani? We related to him, too?”

Enos buzzed his lips. “He's an unofficial member.”

Tani raised his glass. “Unofficial.”

Enos said, “Enough about him. You could be me, cuz. Get with Rita.”

“You on this shit again? I told you, my girl—”

“Then just do her once.”

“My girl?”

“Rita. Just once. That's it. Then you'd be bulletproof. Protected because of some quid pro quo hostile work environment shit. They can't fire you. And to get this? All you have to do is stroke once, unlike my ass engaging in some elaborate bullshit on the job. Just once. Now, you need—”

“I still have hours to bill.” I got up to leave.

***

Instead, I went to a new coffee shop and drowned my sorrows with latte.

A voice said, “Don't you think you've had enough?”

I was wired, so I popped up. “What?”

It was Sif, with a coffee pot in hand.

I said, “You work here, too?”

“Compared to what's driving you here, I don't think you can call it working.”

“You wouldn't know a thing about where I work.”

“Krueller, right?”

“You stalking me?”
 

“You came here. And Tully told me.”

“He doesn't know the half of it. Nobody does.”

“I think I have an idea.”

“Trust me, you don't.”

“Let me guess. Billing is everything. People are weird. Partners are even weirder. You're there all the time and questioning why you did it in the first place.”

“How did you—”

“I left Krueller last year.”

“You didn't like it?”

“Let's just say it wasn't what I thought it was. And I wasn't what they thought I was.”

“Now you're a slave to the coffee bean.”

“Hey, leave the coffee bean alone. Unlike your clients, it never pulled a gun on anyone. Never embezzled funds. It just provides warmth, energy.”

“And caffeine addiction.”

She faked a laugh. “Hardy har-har.”

Some scruffy dude came out of the kitchen. Her boyfriend? “Closing time, Sif.”

She waved him away without looking. “Okay.” She stared into my eyes. “You like
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
? It's playing in the park for free.”

Guess not. “Unfortunately, I have to go back to the cuckoo’s nest.”

As I walked out she said, “So what is gonna be? The pillow or the garbage can.”

What did she mean by that? Soon as I turned, her “man” locked the door. Sif waved and went to the back. And I went back to work.
 

I had Rhage's birthday the next night. I sent an email to Stack, and he said it would be fine for me to take the night off.

After working all day, I dropped off a thick pile of papers on Stack's chair.

I went to my office, stumbling from being worn down. I turned off my computer, and as soon as I was about to leave, my phone rang. I leered at it and was relieve to see the LCD screen read “OUTSIDE CALL.” I picked up

“Hello?”

I should have never picked it up.

33

IT WAS STACK.
I had to do more work. Some emergency assignment. I called Rhage but she wasn't at home. I would've called her cell phone, if she had a cell phone. She didn't want the phone waves affecting her creative brain waves. Seemed bogus, but whatever. I called the restaurant and left a message that I was running late and would be there as soon as I possibly could.
 

Then I typed like a fiend, writing a memo from hell while frantically looking at a wall clock.

I hurriedly retrieved a printout then saw a typo. And realized I needed to do more research.

About two hours later, I was finished. I dropped the memo on Stack's empty chair, left the office, and then returned. More typos.

I typed like a man possessed and dropped a new report before dashing out.

The waiter took me to our table. It was filled with empty dishes and sake bottles. No Rhage.

The waiter said, “Will you be paying cash or charge?”

Rhage wasn't home either. I slept alone. And woke up the same way.

34

“WHY'D YOU ANSWER
the phone?”

That was Sif. At the coffee shop. “It said outside call. How was I supposed to know that Stack would be calling?”

“I'm sorry, I forgot the drill. You're on call all day.” She refilled my cup. With decaf. “The lifestyle isn't for everyone. You ever think of doing something else?”

“I'm not going to give up just because of a missed birthday and the makeup for the missed birthday.”

“You're not going to give up, but what about her? This isn't a fluke, Rufus.”

“I can tell the partners further in advance in the future, so I can plan.”

“That's what James thought.”

“James?”

“It was his anniversary and his wife called two months in advance to tell Stack of a surprise party. Two months later at the party, James was nowhere to be found. Stack arrived and helped himself to punch and cake.”

“Did Stack know where James was?”

“Of course. James was back in his office working on an assignment Stack gave him that day. After his wife found out, we all filed out giving our sympathy.”

“What about Stack?”

“He had a second helping of cake. The fucked-up thing? James had no idea his wife planned a surprise party. She didn't have the heart to tell him. The next week, he found out and didn't know what to do. Curse out Stack and lose his job and default on his mortgage or keep his job and spit on his marriage?”

“What did he do?”

“The next best thing. Had a nervous breakdown.”

I choked on coffee.

“You okay?”

I wasn't, but I nodded.
 

“The job's no joke, Rufus. Time is money. Your ass belongs to them. Not to your honey. Not to your mama. Not to yourself. And the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can deal honestly with the choices you make.”

 
I made a choice, all right. I sent Rhage flowers, candy, balloons, and a huge teddy bear with a beret and painter's easel.

35

“FEELING BETTER?”

I was. We were in Enos's office for a sushi lunch. Me, Tani, and Enos. “I don't know, Tani.”

“How come?”

“I was talking to this woman who worked here and—”

“What girl is that?”

“Sif Sanchez.”

Enos said, “Sif Sanchez? As in Dead-end Sif?”

I said, “Dead-end?”

Tani said, “She was my hero.”

“A hero for you?”

“Or heroine.”

“I prefer she-ro.”

Enos nibbled at his volcano roll. “She embezzled funds from our clients.”

“Embezzled?”

Tani said, “That's not what I'd call it.”

Enos nearly choked on a piece of sashimi. “She stole money from a client. Can you imagine? She's lucky she wasn't disbarred.”

Tani said, “Even after all the things that came out about her. The things she did. Man.”

I said, “Things like what?”

Enos said, “Porking a partner's wife.”

Say what?

Enos guzzled plum wine. “That could've been someone else's spot. And to think of all the money they spent training her.”

Tani clapped his hands. “Sweet.”

Speaking of sweet, when I went home that night, the candy, balloons, and teddy bear lay outside my apartment door. I thought the delivery person must have left it.

When I opened the door, I found out otherwise.

36

“I'VE PUT UP
with more than most people would, you know? You're a lawyer and you work tough hours, so what?”

“I want to be with you, Rhage.”

“Actions, not words, Rufus. That's what matters.”

“What about that job I told you about?”

“As a secretary?”

“Paralegal, not secretarial. You know that.”

“Yeah. I know they get treated like shit, too. So what?”

“We could be together.”

“And miserable.”

I took her hand. “Come on, baby. We'd have late hours together. Alone. Just me and you.”

She smirked. “Just me and you?”

Got her. I grinned. “You don't know how freaky an office can be.”

She pulled her hand away. “Isn't that against firm rules?”

“What?”

“Office romances.”

“No. They happen all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, people spend more time with their secretaries than with—”

“Their girlfriends?”

“You know that's not what I meant.”

“No? Then what did you mean? For all I know, you could be fucking your secretary.”

“You're tripping.”

“Look, I can't take this anymore.” She got up to leave. “And I can't believe you.”

“Rhage.”

“I'm an artist, okay? My work depends on clarity of thought. Vision. I can't be bogged down with materialism, capitalism, or any other -ism which distracts me from my art.”

“But—”

“Your suggestions are offensive. You're the breadwinner, not me. You're the capitalist, I'm the artist. And if you can't deal, we are over.”

37

“I CAN'T BELIEVE
you slipped like that.”