Page 35 of A Legal Affair
“And who better than you, right?” Brandon suddenly snapped his fingers, his eyes twinkling with amused excitement.“Yo, you know what I was thinking about yesterday? Remember how we used to talk about starting our own law firm someday? We envisioned some sort of multinational firm with a large civil rights division and a dedicated pro bono team to serve marginalized communities.” He smiled a little. “I still think about that sometimes.”
“Me too, man,” Caleb admitted with a nostalgic chuckle. “Creeps up on me every now and then.”
Settling back in the white painted porch swing, Brandon gestured grandly with his hand. “Just imagine our names on the door: Chambers, Thorne and Associates.”
“Has a nice ring to it,” Caleb mused thoughtfully. “Thorne, Chambers and Associates sounds even better.”
They both laughed.
“Seriously, though.” Caleb swallowed some whiskey. “You know my old man’s been trying to lure me back to the firm for years. He’d probably lose his shit if I went rogue and launched my own empire.”
“Probably,” Brandon agreed, smiling. “Good thing it’s just a pipe dream, right? I mean, you’ve found the joys of academia, and I’ve found the unique joys of shouting down political opponents and telling foreign lobbies to kiss my black ass.”
“Brave man.” Caleb gave a mock shudder. “Academia’s hella safer than Capitol Hill, that’s for damn sure,” he asserted, the words ringing hollow in his ears. Safer? With Daniela Moreau in his classroom,nothingfelt safe anymore.
Brandon, ever perceptive, caught the subtle shift in Caleb’s demeanor. His gaze sharpened, a flicker of interest crossing his face. “What was that about?”
“What?”
“You winced just now.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. How’s Tamia?” Caleb asked, changing the subject to Brandon’s wife, a brilliantadvertising guru who’d put her career on hold to manage the demands of political life and motherhood.
Brandon’s expression softened immediately. “Tamia’s doing great. She’s inside feeding Tatiana; probably dozed off with her. And last I checked, Mom was trying to sweet-talk Junior into wearing a bowtie for dinner. Little man wasn’t having it, and I don’t blame him. He’s three years old—he’s got plenty of time to be forced into suits and ties.” Brandon chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound of domestic bliss. Nothing put a brighter light in his eyes than talking about his wife and children. “Never a dull moment, bro. Pure, beautiful chaos.”
Caleb smiled quietly. “Lucky man.”
“So this is where you wandered off to,” boomed an off-screen voice, deep and resonant.
Brandon glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, Dad. Come say hello to Caleb.” He stood and panned the phone camera to reveal Governor Bernard Chambers, a man whose presence commanded every room he entered. He was tall and imposing with broad shoulders, smooth dark skin and shrewd dark eyes. His salt-and-pepper hair was impeccably groomed, his suit expensively tailored.
“Caleb, my boy!” His words had the polished cadence of wealth, education and good breeding blended with deep Texas roots. “Always good to see your face, even if it’s only on a screen.”
“Governor.” Out of habit, Caleb stood a little straighter. “Good to see you too, sir.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, young man.” The governor walked closer, his gaze steady and warmly paternal. “Just spoke to your father last week, actually. He’s doing well, isn’t he? Still trying to run the world from his home command center.”
“Yes, sir,” Caleb said, chuckling.
His father and the governor were cut from the same cloth. Both were forces of nature, men who saw life as a series of battles to be won. They shared a mutual respect born of years in the same rarefied circles. But while Crandall was a self-made billionaire, Bernard Chambers had been born into a blueblood dynasty.
“We’re planning on getting that golf game in next month.” A flash of competitive fire lit the governor’s dark eyes, belying his joking tone. “Your father’s convinced he’s finally going to beat me on the back nine. Poor man is delusional. But he’s an old friend and one of my biggest donors, so maybe I’ll go easy on him.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it,” Caleb humorously advised. “If he finds out you gave him a mercy win, he’ll never forgive you.”
The governor laughed, nodding his head. “Excellent point. You know your father all too well.”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
The governor slid his hands into his pockets, his expression becoming more serious. “Now, Caleb, I trust you’ve marked your calendar for the fall gala? It’s a critical fundraiser, and frankly, I expect you to be there. We need the best and the brightest supporting the party, son.”
Caleb inwardly groaned at the thought of attending the political event. The endless small talk, the plastic smiles, the posturing, the not-so-subtle maneuvering to be the center of attention. It was a world his father thrived in, a world Brandon navigated with effortless aplomb, but one that Caleb actively avoided.
Before he could come up with a diplomatic refusal, First Lady Gwen Chambers glided into view with her usual graceful elegance. Her skin was the color of maple, her hair was perfectly coiffed, and she was dressed in a pale lavender silk sheath that spoke of quiet wealth and impeccable taste.
“Dinner will be served shortly,” she announced in cultured, refined tones laced with unmistakable authority. Spotting Caleb on Brandon’s phone screen, she wafted closer and exclaimed, “Caleb, darling, how wonderful to see you!”
He smiled warmly. “Hello, Mrs. Chambers. You’re looking lovely this evening.”
