The Washington Lawyer by Allan Topol Read Free Book Online

Paul as the sole source of support for his parents.
    After the banquet, Martin invited Paul for a drink at the Cosmos Club. Paul was surprised to hear that Martin knew all about his legal career, and also about his father’s injury. Without beating around the bush, Martin offered Paul a job as an associate at the firm with a hundred thousand dollar signing bonus and said, “We’ll even help you get a mortgage when you decide to buy a house.”
    As a law student at Yale, Paul would have viewed working at a large law firm as a sellout, but he had to help his parents. And it might not be so bad. He’d be working on cutting-edge legal cases, even if it would be for corporate clients.
    So Paul made a spot decision to accept.
    If Martin left, Paul should still make it. The partners all gave him outstanding reviews. Only Jenson had been critical. Paul sensed that Jenson was jealous of Martin, resented having to share Paul’s time, and might want to strike at Martin through Paul. He’d been so pissed when Jenson once told him, “You’re Martin’s fair-haired boy.” And Jenson, Paul knew, coveted the chairman position. So if Jenson moved up …
    He chided himself. This isn’t about you. Martin deserves it. Paul couldn’t imagine anyone else with Martin’s smarts. The whole country would benefit from his wisdom and judgment, instead of just the firm’s money-grubbing clients.
    Paul heard the office phone. “Caller ID,” said Jenson’s secretary, Grace. The environmental case he’d been working on with Jenson for two years flashed into his mind, settled last week on great terms. So what the hell’s he want now?
    â€œWill you come up here?” Grace said.
    She sounds more like her surly boss every day.
    â€œI’m on my way.” Paul looked around for a yellow legal pad. Finding it wasn’t easy. This office is a pig pen, he thought. He remembered when dating Vanessa, and he’d taken her here, she’d said, “How can you get anything done in a mess like this?” Nonplussed, he’d responded, “But I know where every piece of paper is.”
    He located a pad in a pile on an ancient wooden chair, standard issue for associates. Before heading up to Jenson’s, he tucked in the tails of his blue button down, put on his navy suit jacket, and slipped a couple of pens into his pocket. His suit was Macy’s. Martin wore Lanvin. One day Paul’s suits would be Lanvin. And after he became partner, he’d spice up his wardrobe with some of those colorful shirts and ties, like Martin.
    Feeling like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window he looked across the atrium to see if that cute paralegal was in her office. She wasn’t. He grabbed the crossword from this morning’s New York Times and headed out.
    To keep in shape, he took no elevators between floors. Only interior staircases. He found himself puffing as he climbed three flights and thought he better start running again and lifting weights. And find another woman. After a year, agonizing over Vanessa’s break up with him was stupid.
    On the twelfth floor, he walked along the stately corridor, an antique grandfather clock its only decoration. Jenson’s office was at the corner diagonal to Martin’s. He got no smile from Grace. “He’s on the phone,” she said, pointing to Jenson’s closed door. “He’ll buzz when he’s ready.” Paul always had to wait for Jenson, and it irritated him.
    But the man had a brilliant legal mind. He had to give him that. Otherwise, Jenson reminded Paul of a toad. He was five eight, pudgy and bald, except for a ring of black hair mixed with gray around the side of his head. This crowned a tough looking face with a sharp nose and chin and a tight mouth with thin lips. From going on the firm’s retreats, Paul knew that Jenson played at tennis and golf with no skill or style.
    Unlike Martin, usually