Page 13 of Danny Hall Gets a Lawyer
Cash nodded in silent agreement.
“Maybe. Like Wilder said, he was checking him out too,”
“That’s because I’m fucking incredible,” Wilder said, throwing his head back and shaking his shaggy hair around like he was a supermodel or something. “Everyone checks me out. Chase is right, though. I think he was into you.”
I shrugged like it didn’t really matter, and in the big scheme of things maybe it didn’t.
Still, it would be nice if he called.
CHAPTER 4
MILLER
Iheaved a sigh of relief as we pulled into the parking lot back at the office and wondered if I could add a clause to my employment contract stipulating that the longest I ever had to be in a car with Marty O’Brien was ten minutes. Maybe five. I’d stopped at the gas station in Goose Run and grabbed myself a cup of the world’s worst coffee and Marty had loaded up on snacks, so I’d had a vain hope that they might distract him enough that he’d be quiet on the drive back. But no, he’d spent the first half of the trip babbling at me through a mouthful of Doritos about possible options for the case. The most annoying part had been that he’d seemed to know what he was talking about, and I’d been forced to agree with him no less than three times.
He’d paused for breath at one stage and I’d thought he was done, but no. The next ten minutes were spent telling me how Danny was hot for me, that he’d been checking me out, and that when he’d given me his number it “wasn’t for tree stuff, bro. Trust me.”
I mean if Marty was right—and he claimed to have a sixth sense about that stuff—I wasn’t unhappy about it, just to be clear. Danny was cute in a scruffy, Podunk town kind of way, andonce he’d lost that “deer in the headlights” look he’d had when we arrived, he was kind of charming too. I’d assumed he was straight because that assumption was always safest, but then I’d turned around and caught him staring at my ass, and I’d had to rethink my initial assessment.
Not that I was going to do anything about it even if hewasinto me. He was a client, and I wasn’t looking to date. Hopewell was a pit stop, not a destination, and the last thing I needed was a messy personal life, let alone an attachment to anyone from somewhere like Goose Run. We’d spent about half an hour in the place, and that was more than enough. Still, it was flattering to think Danny had noticed me.
Marty got out of my car and climbed into his bright orange Jeep and then pulled out of the parking lot with a cheerful wave. I let my head fall back against the headrest and spent a few minutes enjoying the blessed silence before making my way inside the offices of Fisher Law. It was well past closing and Callahan had left for the day, so I didn’t hang around, only staying long enough to get my notes in order.
I was renting an apartment across from Heritage Gardens in a building the property manager had told me had been built by DuPont in the early 1900s to house workers for the guncotton factory. I didn’t give a shit about the history of Hopewell, and I had no idea what guncotton was—I just liked the industrial feel of the building with its brick exterior and the sleek, modern refit inside. The building had a metropolitan vibe that the rest of Hopewell sorely lacked. It was close enough to work that it was almost walkable—just not in the summer heat, and especially not if I had to go out of my way to grab food on the way home because everything east of Hopewell Street was almost entirely devoid of restaurants and markets. But it wasn’t like I’d be staying there long term, so I made it work.
I got home and cranked up the AC, showering and swapping my suit for a pair of shorts and a tank top. I settled on the couch with a takeout box of leftover spicy noodles and a beer, and the tension of the day faded as I ate and drank and soaked up the peace of being in my own space.
I wondered idly if Danny ever got any peace at his place. I’d shared a room at college and that had been bad enough, but living with three other guys? No way. I was happy living alone. And if I did find I had an itch that needed to be scratched? Well, it wasn’t far to Richmond. I didn’t hook up in Hopewell, not willing to risk running into a former one-night stand at the courthouse or the coffee shop and having to make awkward conversation—or worse, having them want todateme.
After dinner I pulled out some reference books and fired up my laptop and spent some time studying up on tree law and in particular the Hawaii Rule. Partly because if Marty knew more than I did he’d want to come with me when I had to visit Goose Run and I planned to avoid that at all costs, but mostly because I wanted to build a solid case for Danny and his housemates and get them a decent payout. I’d seen the state of the truck that was parked in the driveway and the interior of the house. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they could really do with the money. That a win would be good for my professional reputation was just a bonus.
On impulse I googled Goose Run and examined a map of the town. It really was tiny, tucked away back off the highway.Blink and you’d miss it. And it wasn’t like it was located anywhere pretty. It didn’t boast a lake or a scenic waterfall, or even something like the world’s biggest ball of string that might have made it at least vaguely interesting. It was a nothing town, and I wondered why anyone would choose to live there. But I guessed sometimes people lived where they lived because they didn’thave any other choice. If that was me, though? I’d be doing everything in my power to move somewhere bigger and better.
Spurred on by that thought, I opened a bookmarked tab on my screen and scanned the employment ads. There were a couple new listings since I’d last checked, but nothing that grabbed me. And as much as I wanted to move to a city, if the job on offer wasn’t a step up, then I might as well stay here where at least the work was interesting.
There had been one job a few weeks back in New York, working as an associate for a legal firm. It had been everything I was looking for, both work-wise and location-wise, and I’d applied in a fit of optimism. I’d gotten a form email saying they’d received my application, and for about a week I’d gotten my hopes up and tried to figure out how to tell Callahan I was leaving while also imagining my life in New York. But I’d heard nothing back, so obviously I wasn’t what they were looking for. The rejection had stung—didn’t it always?—but I couldn’t say I was too surprised. I was an excellent candidate, but a job like that attracted hundreds of excellent candidates and I wasn’t egotistical enough to think I was better than any of the others. Still, the fact I’d found something that interested me was encouraging, and the right job was bound to turn up if I kept looking, right?
I closed my laptop and set it on the coffee table, rubbing at my eyes. I checked my watch and was surprised to see it was close to midnight. I’d spent more time on research than I thought. Still, at least by the time I slid between the sheets and turned out the bedside lamp, I was more confident about winning the case.
“The answer’s still no,Ms. Thurston-Wallace,” I said, suppressing a sigh.
Missy blinked wide eyes at me, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You can’t mean that, Miller.”
“I’m afraid I do.” I was all about keeping the client happy and assisting with any reasonable requests, but what Missy was asking was so far outside the ballpark of being reasonable that I wasn’t even sure it was in the same state.
Missy’s bottom lip trembled. Obviously, “no” wasn’t a word she was used to hearing. “But Alexander Hamilton needs to be in protective custody while I’m away.” The pug in her lap glared at me from beady black eyes, wheezing like a broken accordion every time he took a breath. There was a long string of drool hanging from his lower jaw, and as I watched, it inched lower, gleaming wetly, and came dangerously close to landing on Missy’s snakeskin pants.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I still couldn’t believe that Missy genuinely expected me to look after her dog for four days while she went out of town on a girls’ trip to Vegas. She’d been so confident I’d say yes that she’d even packed a bag for the dog. It sat on the corner of my desk with a squeaky rubber chicken poking out of the top, its wide-eyed stare a threat and an accusation all at once.
A persistent throbbing ache had set up camp just behind my left eyeball, and I wasn’t sure if it was caused by the overpowering cloud of Missy’s perfume or if it was the feeling of brain cells dying from trying to reason with her.
I tried once again, for the fourth—or was it the fifth?—time, to get her to understand that there was no way it was going tohappen. “I appreciate your concerns, I do. But as I’ve already explained, this is a law office, not a dog sitting service.”
“Exactly! Where else is my precious baby going to be safe from Chad?” She leaned in closer. “Surely y’all can do me this one tiny favor?” Her voice took on a wheedling tone, and it was like nails on a chalkboard.
I was generally a pretty chill kind of guy, but my patience had been hanging by a thread, and it finally snapped. I sat up straighter in my chair, squared my shoulders, and clasped my hands together in front of me, hoping I was projecting “done with your shit”—only politely, you know? “I’m sorry. My apartment doesn’t allow dogs,” I said firmly. “The answer is no.”
Missy’s eyes filled with tears and she let out a dramatic sob. “But he’s mybaby!” she wailed, clutching the dog to her chest. “What am I meant to do with him now?”
