The King of Torts by John Grisham Read Free Book Online Page A

Law School, handsome young man with real character, and he said he was always looking for new talent. God knows it’s hard to find. Said he has an opening for a staff attorney. I said I had no idea if you’d be interested, but I’d be happy to run it by you. Whatta you think?”
    I think I’m being ambushed, Clay almost blurted. Rebecca was staring at him, watching closely for the first reaction.
    According to the script, Barb said, “That sounds wonderful.”
    Talented, bright, hardworking, well educated, even handsome. Clay was amazed at how fast his stock had risen. “That’s interesting,” he said, somewhat truthfully. Every aspect of it was interesting.
    Bennett was ready to pounce. He, of course, heldthe advantage of surprise. “It’s a great position. Fascinating work. You’ll meet the real movers and shakers down there. Never a dull moment. Lots of long hours, though, at least when the legislature is in session, but I told Ian that you had broad shoulders. Pile on the responsibilities.”
    “What, exactly, would I be doing?” Clay managed to get out.
    “Oh, I don’t know all that lawyer stuff. But, if you’re interested, Ian said he’d be happy to arrange an interview. It’s a hot ticket, though. He said the résumés were flooding in. Gotta move quick.”
    “Richmond’s not that far away,” Barb said.
    It’s a helluva lot closer than New Zealand, Clay thought. Barb was already planning the wedding. He couldn’t read Rebecca. At times she felt strangled by her parents, but rarely showed any desire to get away from them. Bennett used his money, if indeed he had any left, as a carrot to keep both daughters close to home.
    “Well, uh, thanks, I guess,” Clay said, collapsing under the weight of his newly bestowed broad shoulders.
    “Starting salary is ninety-four thousand a year,” Bennett said, an octave or two lower so the other diners couldn’t hear.
    Ninety-four thousand dollars was more than twice as much as Clay was currently earning, and he assumed that everyone at the table knew it. The Van Horns worshiped money and were obsessed with salaries and net worths.
    “Wow,” Barb said, on cue.
    “That’s a nice salary,” Clay admitted.
    “Not a bad start,” Bennett said. “Ian says you’ll meet the big lawyers in town. Contacts are everything. Do it a few years, and you’ll be able to write your own ticket in corporate law. That’s where the big money is, you know.”
    It was not comforting to know that Bennett Van Horn had suddenly taken an interest in planning the rest of Clay’s life. The planning, of course, had nothing to do with Clay, and everything to do with Rebecca.
    “How can you say no?” Barb said, prodding with two left feet.
    “Don’t push, Mother,” Rebecca said.
    “It’s just such a wonderful opportunity,” Barb said, as if Clay couldn’t see the obvious.
    “Kick it around, sleep on it,” Bennett said. The gift had been delivered. Let’s see if the boy is smart enough to take it.
    Clay was devouring his salad with a new purpose. He nodded as if he couldn’t speak. The second Scotch arrived and broke up the moment. Bennett then shared the latest gossip from Richmond about the possibility of a new professional baseball franchise for the D.C. area, one of his favorite topics. He was on the fringes of one of three investment groups jockeying for the franchise, if and when one was ever approved, and he thrived on knowing the latest developments. According to a recent article in the Post , Bennett’s group was in third place and losing ground by the month. Their finances were unclear, downright shaky, according to one unnamed source, and throughout the article the name of Bennett
    Van Horn was never mentioned. Clay knew he had enormous debts. Several of his developments had been stalled by environmental groups trying to preserve whatever land was left in Northern Virginia. He had lawsuits raging against former partners. His stock was practically worthless.