Riding the Corporate Ladder (Indigo) (2 page)

Presley vs. Emmanuel Baptist

“He sued a
church
?”

“Won it, too,” Deena confirmed. “That one was a slip and fall.”

Mr. Fogarty sat back in his chair and wiped his forehead again. He sighed and Deena watched the stress melt away from him. “He’s a
faker
,” he concluded.

“A lawsuit whore,” Deena confirmed. “He’s also about to get evicted. You wouldn’t believe how much debt he’s in.”

“Well, we’re-
we’re
not going to be his payoff.”

“I should think not,” Deena agreed.

“I-I want a press conference,” Mr. Fogarty announced. “This asshole slandered us on the front page of every major newspaper. Our stockholders are going
crazy
. I want him locked up. I want them to print a retraction. He can go to jail for this, right? I want him in jail. I-I wanna sue
him
.”

Deena smiled. “I’m already working up the paperwork. No one attacks our client and gets away with it. Don’t worry. Everyone will know the truth by day’s end.”

Mr. Fogarty leaned forward and scanned the damning paperwork again. “You-you guys did good work,” he said, and then looked away sheepishly. “I’m-I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Deena leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s okay. But I don’t ever want you to walk into my office with that look on your face—the one you had when you came in. When you see
me
, you should know that your troubles are about to go away.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t know, but…but I know now. You guys are the best. You,
you’re
the best.”

Personally, Deena could care less about this fat bastard’s opinion of her, but if her actions helped change Mr. Fogarty’s stereotypes
just a little
, she was happy to take part in that.

“Thanks,” she said. “But it’s not such a big deal. I’m your lawyer. This is what I’m supposed to do.”

He met her eyes and nodded.

“One more thing,” Deena said.

“Hmm?”

“In the future, you might want to avoid slamming papers down on my desk,” she kidded. “If you put a scratch on my baby, I’ll have to cut you.”

The big man rubbed his hands together and grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Deena didn’t think Mr. Fogarty was serious about the press conference, but the soda rep was quite adamant about settling things before he left the building. Deena got her secretary to call a few news agencies, and they were eager to get the scoop on this hot topic.

Several media vans showed up at the firm midway through lunch. Deena and Mr. Fogarty met a handful of novice reporters on the front steps for an impromptu and highly irregular Q & A session.

And much to Deena’s surprise, the Fizz Cola spokesman changed his demeanor dramatically when the cameras started rolling. Mr. Fogarty put his hankie away, adjusted his comb-over, and didn’t stutter at all while defending his company. Deena realized she badly misjudged his competence.

“…And this,
man
,” Mr. Fogarty bellowed, “this so called
victim
, well, he’s no more than a common
crook
! Let me tell you, this guy’s sued more companies than he has fingers! He slips and falls everywhere he goes! He’s got…”

He reached back and urged Deena forward with a meaty paw between her shoulder blades.

“Here’s my lawyer. Tell them. Tell them about the other cases…”

Deena felt suddenly uncomfortable with all of the microphones and cameras thrust in her face, but she didn’t let it show. She looked back at one of the firm’s directors who came out with them, but Mr. Markham didn’t budge. This was her case and her show. He smiled and nodded his encouragement.

Deena shook off her anxiety and imagined all of the media personnel in their underwear as she always did when public speaking got the best of her. The camera man from Channel 9 News was a sexy, dark chocolate brother. Deena pictured him in a pair of red silk boxers, and that loosened things up considerably.

“Um, Mr. Fogarty is correct,” she said. The sun beamed on her face, but it was only mid-April and still temperate in Overbrook Meadows, Texas. “The plaintiff says he became violently ill after ingesting our client’s beverage, but this is the exact same scenario he used in a lawsuit against Tom Thumb. It was later determined that the complainant contaminated
his own
food, and that case was dropped. I assure you, the same outcome will come from this suit against Fizz Cola.”

Deena got a little more swagger as her confidence grew. “We’re talking about a man who has sued countless corporations, from 7-11’s to Baptist churches. Everywhere he goes, he either slips and falls or becomes violently ill, but he’s not going to get away with it this time. Not only are we going to get this suit dismissed, but we’re going to see to it that the complainant is prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

“Fizz Cola is safe and delicious, and all claims of contamination are completely bogus.”

Mr. Fogarty stepped forward again, and Deena gladly relinquished the spotlight.

“That’s right. You heard it; there’s nothing at all wrong with our product. And while we’re on the subject of
deliciousness
, I would like to take this moment to announce a new addition to the Fizz Cola family: This summer, we’re introducing Fizz Cola
Candy
! It’s going to come in all your favorite flavors; strawberry, watermelon, and lemon lime…”

Deena couldn’t help but shake her head at that.

* * *

After Mr. Fogarty finished his spiel, they opened the floor to questions from the reporters. Deena had to speak again on the specifics of Mr. Presley’s previous lawsuits, but the whole thing was wrapped up in just twenty more minutes.

Deena headed back to her department afterwards amidst adulations from the peers she encountered along the way. She finally made it to the ninth floor and was happy to get back to the relatively quiet confines of her office. She found her secretary, Karen, lounging on her ottoman when she walked in.

“Hey, hey.”

Karen turned and gave her a bright smile. “Well, look at you! All on TV and stuff…”

Karen was twenty-two years old, a sophomore at Texas Lutheran University’s law school. She had short hair, smooth, dark skin, and she wore glasses. Deena thought she was the cutest thing ever, but Karen was also a focused scholar. She wore a blue skirt today with a white blouse and black stockings. She turned the television off and closed the doors on the armoire when her boss entered.

Deena went around her desk and slumped lazily in her executive chair. She exhaled loudly and kicked her feet out like a man. “It was on the news already?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Karen crossed the room and took a seat across from her mentor. “I looked out the window, and there you were. Then I turned on channel eight, and there you were again.” She grinned. “You looked good, too, Miss Newman. You should have been a reporter or something. You could have been the next Barbara Walters.”

“Really?” Deena had small dimples that came out when she smiled. “I was nervous. It didn’t show?”

Karen shook her head. “Uh-uh; no ma’am. You didn’t look nervous at all. You did good. You been on TV before?”

“That was my first time,” Deena admitted. “Did you record it? I want to watch it later.”

“You know I recorded it.”

“You’re the best,” Deena said. “I wish you weren’t in school so I could have you forever.”

“I saw Mr. Markham standing out there with you,” Karen said.

Deena put a hand to her chest. “He makes me so nervous. I didn’t even know he was coming out.”

“He looks good,” Karen said.

“Who you telling?” Deena mused.

Everyone knew David Markham was the most handsome director in the history of law firms. He transferred in from New York two months ago and already had quite a few admirers. He played football all the way through college and still had a chiseled physique some fifteen years later. He had a light complexion with short, curly hair and a baby face. The firm’s partners, Thomas Reagor, Myles Crawford, and Miles Epstein, were all stodgy old fossils. David Markham added a much needed coolness to the building.

“Did you talk to him?” Karen asked.

“No,” Deena said. “I thought he was going to speak at the press conference, but he just smiled at me and nodded.”

“I wish he would smile at me sometime.”

“Have you ever even met him?” Deena asked. There were thousands of employees at the firm. It was very possible to spend your whole career there without speaking to most of them.

“I’ve only seen him twice since I started,” Karen said. “One time the elevator closed right when I was finna get on it with him. The other time he was on his way in when I was on my way out. I held the door for him, though. I smelled his cologne. It was nice.”

The secretary looked up to the ceiling, lost in her memories, and Deena grinned, too. “Thanks for getting the reports together,” she said. “You should have seen the look on Mr. Fogarty’s face when I showed him those files.”

“It’s all right,” Karen said. “I didn’t have anything to do all Friday, Saturday and Sunday anyways…”

“Well, get used to it,” Deena teased. “My first two years of law school, I don’t think I went out one time.”

“I don’t go out much anyway,” Karen said, and then she looked away uncomfortably. “Hey, you know Bruce is getting that Blood Money account.”

Deena sat up with a start. “What?”

Karen nodded. “That’s the word. I mean, that’s what I heard…”

Blood Money was an up and coming record label that specialized in gangsta rap, hip hop, and cutting-edge R&B music. They achieved notable success recently with artists such as Rilla, Tee Toker, and Miss Nasty topping the Hot 100 charts, but Blood Money Records attracted more negative attention than positive: Two members of their crew were facing charges for weapons and racketeering. A few others still had pending drug cases from before their days as entertainers. Their top-selling artist, Rilla, had been arrested for murder just three weeks ago.

“Why would they give it to Bruce?” Deena asked. She’d been banking on that account to beef up her portfolio and maybe put her in the running for a senior attorney position in the next year or so.

Karen shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he has more experience?”

That was true, but Deena was never one to let a little thing like experience get in the way of her dreams. “Has Shelton made an announcement yet?” she asked.

Karen shook her head. “No, but any minute now.”

Deena shot to her feet and headed for the door. “I’m getting that account,” she said on her way out.

Karen didn’t say anything. It was a long shot, but she knew better than to doubt her boss. Miss Newman had proved her wrong so many times already.

* * *

There were over a dozen directors in the building. The one Deena wanted to meet with was on the same floor, but it still took her a while to reach his corner office. Everyone who knew about the press conference wanted to stop and tell her how well she did, oblivious to her rush. Deena placated them as best she could.

“Thanks, honey.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.”

“ ’Preciate it, Bob. Thanks…”

When she got to Shelton Murray’s foyer, Deena didn’t stop to talk to his receptionist. She walked right in, as if expected, and closed the door behind herself. Shelton sat behind his desk wearing a black suit with a gray shirt and no tie. He was forty-two years old and as handsome as George Clooney with his salt and pepper hair. Mr. Murray was clean shaven and surprisingly fit, given his sedimentary lifestyle.

Rather than take a seat across from him, Deena stood in front of his desk with a hand on her hip. Shelton hung up the phone and gave her a quick smile.

“Deena! How’s it going? You did a great job today. You really made an impression with that Fizz Cola rep. That was him I was just talking to. He had nothing but good things to say.”

“Thanks,” Deena said, “but what’s this I hear about Bruce getting the Blood Money account?”

“Aahh…” Mr. Murray pursed his lips as if it pained him to deliver the bad news. “That’s pretty much been decided all month, Deena. I know you wanted it, but Bruce has more experience. He’s actually worked a murder case, you know. You’re good, but it’s the firm’s belief that he would be better suited for their particular needs.”

Deena gave him a sly look. “It’s not the firm’s decision, Shelton. It’s your decision.”

The director leaned back in his chair and grinned haplessly. “Well, yeah…technically…”

Deena went around the desk and stepped between his legs casually. She put her hands on his shoulders and caressed the side of his neck. He looked up at her, and Deena got lost in his blue eyes for a second. Bruce was married with four kids, but the attraction between them was undeniable. They slept together eight times since Deena first joined the firm. She was all for a ninth roll in the hay if it got her the Blood Money account.