“I’ll take it,” he replied.
“I was about to work on these case files. Would you mind getting started on them? And we will take it from there, I guess,” I tried to sound encouraging.
“Alright! But I have to say. I am flattered you think of me as a surfer from Venice Beach!” he laughed all the way to his desk.
* * *
As the morning progressed,I immersed myself in my upcoming court battle that was to take place on Wednesday. It was a celebrity lawsuit, and I hated the media attention even though I knew that the media has been known to sky-rocket the careers of some lawyers. I just could not get used to all that publicity. Nevertheless, it was a case in which the famous songwriter, Malibu Kenny (his real name Kenneth Mann), was suing his former girlfriend and popstar in her own right, Cami D (real name Camilla de Silva), for using a song that he had allegedly written.
My client, Cami D, claims that she wrote the song herself and that her ex-boyfriend was just trying to derail her career–it was a case of sour grapes. Of course, the media frenzy surrounding the case had been akin to swimming in a shark tank with a bleeding wound. Luckily, Cami D was not as famous as she would have liked to believe. So, thankfully, the case was not carried by any of the bigger news networks.
I grabbed a lunch smoothie at the juice bar downstairs and went straight into preparing my witnesses. Over the next crucial 48 hours, Chris was surprisingly helpful, especially with the female witnesses. And he proved to be rather insightful in building up the line of questioning, so I asked him to prepare the files on witnesses while I prepared my cross-examination questions. I also asked him to prepare the evidence files. By Wednesday morning, however, there was one crucial piece of evidence that was still missing–it hadn’t been sent from the IT department of the police station as yet.
“Chris, I can’t wait on this evidence any longer. Please, can you bring it to court as soon as it gets in? This is the hard evidence we need to prove that Cami D did, in fact, write the song herself,” I asked Chris, who had been proving himself by jumping through the rings of fire I had set up for him the whole time.
“Sure thing, Marilyn. This case is a slam dunk. Good luck. I will rush this to you at the courthouse asap,” he responded supportively.Maybe having Chris for a PA would work, after all,I thought wistfully as I raced to the courthouse with just 20 minutes to spare.
The hearing was going well, but Chris was nowhere to be seen, and I was running out of time. Just when I was about to ask for a recess, he flew in with the file.
“I thought you weren’t going to pitch!” I fumed.
“I almost never made it. I had to go to the precinct to demand that they give me the file. The officer who was handling this text conversation didn’t come in for work today. Can you believe that?”
“Well, in that case, thank you for going the extra mile, Chris. I appreciate it,” I said hurriedly but meant it.
In my haste, I didn’t even open the file to verify that it was the correct one–I assumed that Chris had done the double-checking before he left the precinct. It was the wrong file!
“Is this supposed to be some sort of joke, Miss Alexander?” bellowed Judge Steinberg, her face turning a scary shade of purple–she had a history of high blood pressure and had landed herself in hospital a few times already.
“I–I don’t know what–”
“This ‘evidence’ consists of illicit photographs that have nothing to do with this case!”
And it was at that point that I knew I had lost the case.
This was exactly why I had refused to get a PA in the first place.If you want something done right, you’d better do it yourself. That has always been my motto. How could I have messed up so badly by entrusting such an important task to Chris, of all people? This is entirely my fault.My thoughts were reeling as I drove back to the office–utterly humiliated and feeling completely inept.
A few people who’d heard about what happened tried to talk to me.
“Hey, Marilyn. I’msosorry,” began Chris. I walked right past him wordlessly.
I simply went in, got some of my files, and left. He knew better than to persist. I informed Laura at the front desk that I would be working from home for the rest of the afternoon.
The company wanted me to try a case out in Las Vegas anyway, so I took everything I needed for the trip on my way out. We only traveled out for our high-profile clients–I usually didn’t like leaving San Diego, but this time I was grateful for the respite from Chris Miller. I wouldn’t be back at the office for a week and a half. Plenty of time for the firm to get rid of him. He had a fantastic personality, and he got things done in a groove that worked for him. But I was not one to share my workload. Look what happened the one time I did. No, Chris had to go.
I would arrange a telephone conference with the partners once I got settled in Vegas. I was a maverick, and that was the way it would have to be.
FOUR
CHRIS
Wishing the Earth would open up and swallow me whole, I watched helplessly as the judge handed down her verdict. After spending most of the morning trying to get a hold of someone from the IT department at the precinct who could help, I eventually rushed downtown myself.
They had me chasing my tail, just for kicks, for a precious forty-five minutes before a rookie simply handed me the file, and I raced out of there like I had the devil at my heels. If only I had checked the contents of the file before I had left the station, the outcome of the case and–more importantly–my relationship with Marilyn would have been cause for a celebration. Instead, she disappeared without a trace.
“Listen, Chris,” explained Farthington, “the transformation we have seen in Marilyn, thanks to you, has won the respect of everyone who has ever tried to disarm her and failed. So, well done. We really like you and want you to grow within the firm. But we hadn’t really thought beyond having someone track Marilyn’s progress and assist her with her daily work. What happened at court today was unfortunate, but you are new to all of this, and I am sure that it was a valuable lesson you are not likely to forget,” he said with compassion and care.
“You’ve got that right, Mr. Farthington, sir,” I replied sincerely.