Page 17 of A Legal Affair

The two of them met in law school at UT Austin. After class one day, they struck up a spirited conversation that continued over coffee and barbacoa tacos. By the end of the meal, a lifelong friendship had been born. When Caleb walked away from his career as a criminal defense attorney, it was Evander who encouraged him to apply for a faculty position at Northbridge. It was one of the best decisions he’d ever made in his life—second only to the decision to leave his father’s law firm.

“I thought you were already gone for the day,” he said to Evander.

“Nah, I had a late meeting. Robinette called to make sure I’d be on time for dinner,” he added with a chuckle. Robinette was his college sweetheart turned wife of seven years. A busy software developer, she was every bit as much a workaholic as her husband. They were childless by choice, preferring to spoil their nieces and nephews instead.

“She made reservations at that new spot downtown—The Gilded Spoon. Ever heard of it?”

Caleb shook his head.

“It’s some high-end joint that’s been getting rave reviews,” Evander elaborated. “Nette and I made a pact this summer to improve our work-life balance. That means cutting back on the long hours, taking more vacations, spending more quality time together, embracing spontaneity.” He put air quotes around the last two words.

Caleb chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”

“It’s ambitious,” Evander acknowledged, “but I’m willing to give it a shot. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

“So I’ve heard.”

Evander laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Your time is coming, bruh. You can’t run forever.”

“Watch me,” Caleb retorted as they reached the parking lot, and not a minute too soon. “Have a good dinner, and say hey to Nette for me.”

“Will do.” Evander tossed up a peace sign and strode off to his Benz while Caleb climbed into his truck and headed home to his downtown bachelor pad.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled off Houston Street and swung into the parking garage connected to the Towers at the Majestic—or the Towers, as the high-rise building was known to its residents. As he rode the elevator to the top floor, he was grateful that at that hour, most of his neighbors were already ensconced in their luxury apartments, or out for a night on the town along the River Walk. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk, and more than a few residents were serial chatters.

The moment he crossed the threshold of his penthouse, he knew he wasn’t alone.

Without turning on the lights, Caleb dropped his messenger bag by the door and crossed a gleaming expanse of hardwood floor to the wet bar. Calmly, deliberately, he filled a glass with whiskey and lowered himself onto one of the bar stools that ran the curved length of the counter. Fifteen-foot windows with custom-designed wrought-iron bars provided a panoramic view of the San Antonio skyline, now awash in flame from the setting sun.

As Caleb sipped his whiskey, he quietly contemplated the stunning view he took for granted every day.

“I take it you’re not going to offer me a drink.” A coolly amused voice spoke from the shadows of the living room.

Caleb didn’t spare a glance over his shoulder. “Only invited guests receive that kind of hospitality.”

There was a low chuckle. “Testy, aren’t we?”

“Can you blame me?” Caleb drawled sardonically. “You’d think for all the money I pay to live here, I could count on better security.”

“Now, Caleb, you of all people should know that for the right price, no door remains closed to me. Which brings me to the purpose of my visit.” There was a deliberate pause. “Your old man is still refusing to take Lito’s case.”

“That’s his prerogative, isn’t it?” Caleb said with mild unconcern. “Last I checked, the firm’s not exactly hard up for business. Besides, I think they’ve already met their monthly quota of representing embezzlers.”

“Come now,” came the smiling rejoinder, “there’s always room for one more.”

Caleb shrugged, keeping his back turned on his visitor. “Guess the old man doesn’t think so.”

“Apparently not. However, I’m of the opinion that he can be persuaded otherwise.” When Caleb showed no reaction to the veiled threat, the voice continued, “We both know, Caleb, that I can make your father take Lito’s case.”

“So what’re you doing here?”

“I came to reason with you, man to man.”

“By breaking into my apartment and skulking in the shadows until I return? I don’t think so.” Shaking his head, Caleb downed the rest of his whiskey and reached for the crystal decanter to refill his glass. Despite his cavalier tone, every muscle in his body was rigid, primed for the unpredictable.

Experience had taught him such preparedness.

“I don’t have to remind you, Junior, that all it takes is one phone call to bring all of Crandall Thorne’s dirty laundry to light. And I know for a fact there’s one particular item you’d do anything to keep safely tucked away.” Soft, triumphant laughter razored along Caleb’s nerve endings, making his gut clench in instinctive outrage.