“I’m a lawyer. Being an asshole is part of my job description.” Her eyes widened, and I realized what I’d just said. “Forgive me. That was poorly said.”
She nodded but said nothing.
I found the number in my notes and dialed.
The call lasted seven minutes. I used words like “bad faith negotiation” and “emotional distress” and “punitive damages” and “I will ensure this case drags on for two years if I have to.” The other lawyer—some guy named Pinkerton who sounded bored until I started threatening timelines—agreed to speak with his client.
An hour later, Mrs. Chenza’s husband showed up at our office with the bracelet in a Ziploc bag. I took it from him at the building’s sidewalk entrance, never letting him step foot in our office.
Mrs. Chenza cried when I handed it to her.
But this time it was different.
“Thank you,” she kept saying. “Thank you so much. Mr. Sullivan . . . thank you.”
“This is important to you. That makes it important to me, too.”
“You’re not the blood-sucking leech I expected,” she said into my shoulder as she embraced me. I stood there awkwardly patting her back while trying not to cry myself.
Being compared favorably to a leech was not a high bar. In fact, it was pretty funny.
But it felt good.
When Mrs. Chenza left, clutching the bracelet like it was made of diamonds instead of costume jewelry, I sat in the conference room for a long moment, staring at nothing.
Thiswas why I’d gone to law school.
Not for the billable hours or the partnership track or the prestige of working at a successful firm.
For this.
For helping people when everything else in their life felt out of control.
For making a difference, even if it was just getting back an inexpensive bracelet that was priceless to someone.
I left the office around six-thirty. The sun wassetting, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple that would’ve been beautiful if I’d had the energy to appreciate them. I walked to my car in the small lot behind the building. My apartment wasn’t far away. I could walk to work. But I’d lived in Tampa long enough to know that afternoon rainstorms were as regular as squirts after a Nachos BellGrande. The last thing I wanted was to swim home, clutching my briefcase, while hoping its watertight features actually held. So, I drove the one minute and twenty seconds from door to door.
It wasn’t until I sat behind the wheel that I noticed something tucked under my windshield wiper.
I pulled it out, ready to crumple it up and toss it into the back seat, when I saw the logo.
Barbacks.
LIGHTNING vs HURRICANES - TONIGHT! 7:30 PM
Drink Specials! Food Specials! Best Burgers in Ybor!
Come watch the game with us!
Barbacks – voted best new gay sports bar in Tampa by everyone who’s visited this week.
The last line made me chuckle. Clever Finn. Cheeky Finn.
Fucking cute Finn.
I checked my watch. 6:34 p.m.
The game started in less than an hour.
