Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 52699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 211(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Medium-sized.
I can’t believe she offered this to me with a straight face.
“Sir?” Someone tapped my shoulder from behind. “Sir, are you one of the involved parties in this crash?”
I turned around to see a familiar police officer.
“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Carter.” He smiled. “What do you need from me this morning?”
An arrest warrant. “A…” I paused.
There was no point in plotting my revenge right now. “I just need a report for my insurance and a tow truck for both cars.”
“Where’s the driver of the Honda?”
“She left to seek medical attention.” I bailed her out for now. “She didn’t want to wait for an ambulance.”
“Well, the tow truck is on its way,” he said. “Do you need a lift to your firm?”
“That would be nice.”
“Give me one second.” He took pictures with his tablet, tapping the screen. “Do you have any idea what the other driver looked like?”
Sexy as hell. “It was a woman.”
“Um, can you give me a few more details than that?” He clicked his pen. “Eye color, height, hair?”
“She’s five foot six with green eyes and dark wavy hair that falls past her shoulders.” She also has a mouth with perfect bow-shaped lips and a body that deserves to be worshipped.
“Did she give you her name by chance?”
“Miss Lawyer.”
“Huh?”
“No,” I said. “We never got that far, but I’m not pressing charges.”
He looked over at the damage. “Are you sure?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You’re a far bigger man than me.” He printed a ticket before escorting me to his patrol car. “With that type of car, I’d be plotting her murder.”
There are things far worse than that.
Three traffic jams later, I strolled through the doors of Hamilton & Associates.
“Good morning, Damien.” My long-term partner and only friend, Andrew Hamilton, greeted me with two cups of coffee. “You’re late.”
“I was in a fender bender, Captain Obvious.” I reached for one of the cups, but he didn’t give it to me.
“Which car?”
“The McLaren.”
“How bad is the damage?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I reached for a coffee again. “One of those coffees isn’t for me?”
He took a sip from each one as we walked to his office, answering that question.
“That’s why you don’t have any friends,” I said.
He laughed and set them on his desk. “I’ve split today’s interviews in half, and then I left a few for us to do together.”
“Remind me why Human Resources can’t do this?”
“Because they’re tired of us firing every person they recommend within a week,” he said. “One of these interviews should be a breeze for you, though. You wrote him one hell of a recommendation letter.”
“Come again?”
He picked up a sheet of paper and cleared his throat. “This candidate is highly engaging with a passion for the law that is one of a kind, with the most impressive mind I’ve ever taught at Harvard.”
“Is this an early April Fool’s joke?”
“If you don’t take a chance,” he continued reading, “it’ll be the biggest mistake you’ve ever made. Also…”
I shook my head as he continued to read, confused as ever. I’d only taught online classes at Harvard, and I’d never written a recommendation letter, let alone been compelled to do so.
I read most of my students' essays in awe that they’d been accepted into the university, and I handed out C’s and D’s like candy.
“You also gave this student an A.”
“Okay.” I was done with this joke. “I’ve never given anyone an A, Andrew. They probably copied and pasted my name by mistake on a letter meant for someone else. So, he clearly didn’t do his due diligence and we can cancel his interview.”
“It’s a ‘she.’”
“It’s a fraud,” I said. “Now that I think about it, my back is starting to hurt from the fender bender. I may need to take the day off and see a doctor.”
“I dare you.”
“What the hell is going on in here?” Jessica stepped into the room. “We’re already an hour and a half behind. Which one of you is handling the first interview?”
“He is,” we spoke in unison.
“Seriously?” She crossed her arms. “Do you both hate interviews this much?”
Our silence was the answer.
“Fine.” She pulled out a quarter. “I’ll flip a coin.”
CROSS-EXAMINATION (N.)
THE OPPORTUNITY FOR THE ATTORNEY (OR AN UNREPRESENTED PARTY) TO ASK QUESTIONS IN COURT OF A WITNESS WHO HAS TESTIFIED IN A TRIAL ON BEHALF OF THE OPPOSING PARTY
ELIZABETH
My heart was stuck in my throat. I couldn’t stop looking over my shoulder every few seconds—checking to see if Mr. Not Guilty was following this cab.
If today were any other day, I might’ve stayed at the scene and struck up a conversation. Maybe pretended like we lived in similar worlds, and see if he were the type to ask me out on a date.
Then again, he looked like the type of man who kept a Rolodex of women at his beck and call.