National Exposure
“So it all comes down to this?”
The lawyer played with a paperclip, straightening it then bending it in half
again before answering. “I’m afraid so, Wade.”
I rattled the ice in the cut crystal rocks glass, watching the single malt scotch swirl
around the cubes. The reflected lights from the nightlife on
“And there’s no other way
to stop them?” I asked.
“Wade, let’s get this clear. I’ve already stopped them. I’ve stopped every son-of-a-bitch who’s ever dared
to take us on. The laws in this country were written for people like us, and I win every time. The ridiculous part is that the publicity
we get just drives our circulation higher.”
He was right about that. I’d made a fortune giving the public exactly what they wanted.
Scandalous, juicy bits of outrageous gossip that titillates some portion of my readers’ brains that otherwise go to sleep when their
hands touch my paper. Ridiculous pieces of ‘news’ that feed the public’s desire to see their heroes torn from the very heights to
which they raise them. Pieces of trash that in any other context the thinking, reasoning portion of their cerebra would identify as
garbage.
“I know you’ll win in court tomorrow, but that’s not what I want.”
“Then what the hell is it, Wade? What else is there?”
I spun
around and slammed the glass on the boardroom table, smashing it. Pieces of glass and ice flew across the room as the scotch puddled
on the highly polished surface of the rare wood.
“I want this fucking thing settled out of court, that’s what I want. Why can’t you
get that through that thick legal skull of yours? Is it so difficult? Settle it, you asshole!”
The smashing of the glass shocked the
lawyer but not nearly as much so as my tirade. He made a show of wiping the scotch from his custom-tailored suit jacket and cleaning
his splattered glasses while he regrouped.
“They won’t settle, Wade. I’ve told you that.”
I glared at the lawyer, who I knew from experience
would visibly shrink. Predictably, and to my pleasure, he quickly averted his eyes while pretending to pick the glass out of his clothes.
“You
call their ambulance-chaser and get this arranged. I want those papers on my desk by 7:00 a.m. tomorrow morning.”
“That’s what I’m
trying to tell you, Wade. They won’t settle for anything less than an amount that will cripple us. I’ve made all kinds of offers,
and they won’t budge. I tell you it’s just stupid. It’s them, not me. Their own counsel warned them they can’t win, and they still
won’t budge. He’s frantic. He’s working on contingency, so he’s got a stake in this, too. ”
I leaned over the table, balancing on my
knuckles, elbows out. “I don’t care what it is they want. Get the best deal you can. Get it on paper and on my desk by 7:00 tomorrow
morning or you’re fired.”
The lawyer was like a rat caught in a corner. A rat desperate not just because he was trapped but because
he was in danger of being separated from his cheese. “The board won’t approve this,” he warned.
I resisted the impulse to spit. “The
board has never approved any settlement in advance. I’ve never even gone to them before.”
“This is different. It’s never cost us this
much before.”
“Are you threatening to call the board?” I asked.
It amused me that the lawyer had the balls to glare back at me eyeball
to eyeball, but it only lasted for three seconds before he blinked rapidly twice and tried another tack. “It just doesn’t make sense,
Wade.”
“Cut the bullshit, Joel. I know you too damn well – the way your mind works. I don’t have time for your fucking games.”
“Wade...”
“Shut
up and listen. And listen carefully. Don’t even think about an end run around me to the board or any of your other slimy tricks.
I want every damned bit of your creative energy focused on getting the best deal possible. I want a deal that nobody else can get.
And I want it before the verdict. Do you understand that?”
“But we’re going to win, Wade. The judge is going to decide in our favor.
I’ll stake my life on it.”
I felt the color shoot up my neck, turning my face into a cruel mask. “Perfect choice of words, Joel. If
you’re thinking about taking the easy way out by simply showing up for the verdict tomorrow, it will cost you your life.”
Joel laughed
nervously. “Surely you’re not threatening to kill me, Wade.”
I left his words hanging between us for what seemed to be an eternity,
and then, subconsciously, felt the hint of a smile touching the corners of my mouth.
“Do you remember that cute little actress?” I
asked. “You know – the one who died from the overdose two years ago?” I turned my back on him and pretended to look out the window
to let him think about what I’d just said.
“Christ, Wade. What are you suggesting? That I had something to do with that?”
As I turned
back to deliver my last threat, I knew I had him.
“I have some interesting pictures, Joel. I’m sure your wife would like to see them.
I know your father-in-law would.”
The color drained from Joel’s face.
I was already congratulating myself and wondering what
kind of settlement Joel would reach when my world crashed in. It hit me in the lower back like a wrecking ball and flung me to the
floor in a twisted heap, little slivers of tempered glass from the shattered floor-to-ceiling window peppering my hair and clothing.
I remember suddenly hearing the noise from the street below and smelling the ocean breeze as Joel leaned over me, panic written across
his face.
“You’d better hope I die you
son of a bitch, or that you get that settlement.”
And then everything went black.
copyright © J P Roszell, 2010