Outside Counsel

4. Good guys, bad guys

Hollywood, Los Angeles

Harvey Specter might just be the most articulate man I had ever met.

His words gave away nothing but the information he planned on giving. And his eyes held as little emotion as two very finely constructed hazel beads.

Emphasis on the finely constructed.

He had been talking for the last twenty minutes, and I had been listening intently for that same amount of time.

There was no time for my mind to digest the information being given. He was pacing the pauses between his sentences in a way that allowed me to hear the words, place them in the back of my mind, and hurry back to listening before I could properly consider them.

"-so this all goes back around to whether you have any experience dealing with Fraud charges."

I took a sip of my wine, "Harvey, if this was a usual case, and you were a usual client, I would show you my record, which, dare I say, isn't too bad."

"But?"

"I'm curious if I were to refuse...Who's the next guy?"

Something finally flashed in his eyes, though I couldn't quite catch what it was, at least my words were affecting him. Emotional men were more likely to show, if not tell, the truth. His response was quick, despite the slight hesitation "There's plenty, Mickey." He spread his hands, "And I don't need you to show me your record, I have it right here." He pointed at his phone. "It is impressive, I must tell you. And that is a contributing factor as to why I'm talking to you first."

He said first as if me sitting here with him was a privilege for me. I decided to pause the dance for dominance and focused on what he had been telling me for the last twenty minutes. "Let me see if I've gotten this all right. Your associate, Michael Ross, is being looked into by the D.A for fraud. And you want me to represent him."

"That's about right."

"Who's the D.A?"

"Anita Gibbs." He said the name with clenched teeth.

I nodded, not having heard the name before. But it made sense, my territory was in L.A, and I'd heard of almost all the prosecutors here. But only knew one or two from other states. "Have you got her record?"

"I do."

When he made no motion to retrieve it, I got the sign. He was not going to show me more than what he had just told me lest I get the information but refuse to cooperate. I smiled at his cautiousness.

Now I needed to make a decision. Whether to sign on and board the ship or to shake my head and exit the restaurant.

There was one element that I hadn't heard from him, one that would help my decision. I knew he left that out for a reason, and even if prompted, probably wouldn't tell, but I had to give it a try. "One last question."

"Shoot."

"What is he?"

The question hung in the air, growing bigger and bigger as time dragged on. The phrasing was vague, but he knew what I meant.

Was the man an innocent one that desperately needed defending, or a guilty one trying to bend the laws? Because the laws could be bent, and no one understood it more than a lawyer, even a fraud one.

"Does it matter?" He said, his tone neutral.

That answered everything.

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