Page 7 of Danny Hall Gets a Lawyer
I blinked. “Did you just say Thirsting-Wallace?”
“Bro, I’ve seen how she looks at you. Thirsting. Wallace.” He hung up, but I could hear him cackling at his own joke all the way from the front desk. And I had to admit, it was pretty funny. Maybe the guy wasn’t a complete idiot.
I took a deep breath and summoned up my customer service voice as I retrieved the call. “This is Miller Clarke.”
“Miller! You have to help me!” Missy’s voice teetered on the edge of hysteria. “Chad wants to kidnap Alexander Hamilton!”
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” I said while wondering if Missy had left my office and gone directly to a bar, because she was making zero sense.
“Alexander Hamilton! Chad’s threatening to keep him. He says I’m an unfit mother!” She let out something like a sob.
Missy was amother?
I racked my brain for any mention of a child—side note, anyone who named their kid after a musical or a politician probably deserved to lose custody—but came up blank.
“I see,” I said, even though I didn’t see at all.
“Chad doesn’t even like dogs,” she said, sniffling. “He’s threatening to keep poor Alexander Hamilton out ofspite.”
Of course Alexander Hamilton was a fucking dog.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Let’s not panic just yet, Ms. Thurston-Wallace,” I said. “I’m sure we can work this out.”
“Do you really think so?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I’m going to do my very best to make sure Alexander stays with you,” I promised.
“Alexander Hamilton,” she said. “He’s pedigree, so we use all his names.”
“I see,” I said again and wondered if I could convince Callahan to go forward with the case instead of me now there was a dog involved. Unlikely, though, since he’d met Missy, and there was no dog in the world that was cute enough to make up for dealing with her and her husband. “What sort of dog is Alexander Hamilton?” I asked, expecting something like a Great Dane maybe. I should have known better.
“He’s a pug,” Missy said, and I wondered why I was even surprised. It figured that the world’s most high-maintenance client would have the world’s most high-maintenance pet.
“Hmm,” I said and hoped it came across as enthusiastic.
“Chad makes fun of him. He once said Alexander Hamilton looks like he ran face-first into a sliding door. But I told Chad if looks mattered to me, he’d still be single.”
Chalk personal insults up as reason number seven hundred and forty-six in their divorce, I guessed.
There was the sound of a throat clearing, and I glanced up to see Callahan standing in my open doorway, a donut in one hand and a file in the other.
“Can I get back to you on this once I’ve spoken to your husband’s lawyer and we have more clarity around the whole situation, Ms. Thirsting-Wallace?”
Fuck.Maybe she wouldn’t notice.
“Or I could come in and we could discuss it,” she said hopefully, so at least I’d dodged that bullet. Now to see if I could dodge a second one.
“I wish I could,” I lied, “but I’m booked up for the rest of this week.”
“Oh,” she said, her disappointment palpable. “Then I guess I’ll wait to hear.”
“That’s probably for the best.”
She disconnected the call without saying goodbye.
Callahan stepped into the office, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thirsting-Wallace, huh?”
I groaned. That name was going to stick in my head forever, and worse, I couldn’t even be mad because it was fucking hilarious. Fuck that intern, seriously.
