Page 4 of Too Good to Be True

Rowan

I read through all the documents relating to the Graham case while I ate my dinner, which tonight consisted of a grilled chicken salad I ordered from Chopped and picked up before I left work. Luckily, this takeaway opened a few months ago, saving my life.

I don’t mind cooking. I’m not bad at it either, but this way, I don’t waste time in the kitchen. I can put my heart and soul into my work, especially when my dear friend Paul entrusts me with cases like this, which border on the impossible.

There is no way for this single father to win this case, but I will find it if there is one.

I’m fiercely competitive. Losing is not in my blood. Paul often challenges me with these pro-bono cases, which, nine times out of ten, are a waste of time and money for the firm. But I’m not one to back down from a challenge.

I turn another page and shove another forkful of salad into my mouth. This guy is a mess.

Who would ever bet on him? And more importantly, what judge would ever trust him with children?

I shake my head and turn another page, stabbing a piece of chicken and swallowing it, almost choking.

“What the hell…” I take a sip of water, then quickly pick up the phone and dial my client’s number, which is right on the first page of the file.

The phone rings four times before he decides to pick it up.

“I’m Rowan Kennedy from Lauren you should be resting.”

“I’m not wasting my time.”

“It’s not good for you to bring work home.”

“I don’t want to fall behind.”

“Don’t you have… er… Someone waiting for you?”

“No,” I reply dryly.

“I understand.”

This phone call was longer than I expected. And more informal than it should have been.

“You are at work. I don’t want to keep you any longer.”

“Don’t worry. I am perfectly replaceable.”

“Replaceable?” I ask, now curious.

“I’m just one of the bartenders. I don’t do shows.”

“Shows?”

He barely laughs. “I’m not a drag.”

“Oh… Is it that kind of club?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t mean to imply…” I don’t even know why I’m defending myself. “I’ve never been there. I don’t know what kind of club it is.”

“Don’t worry, it always has that effect on people.”

“You could lie.”

“Nah, it’s not my style.”

“You might have to.”

“Mmm… Is it necessary?”

“I always believe the truth is the best choice, but in court… You never know what might happen. Surprises are always around the corner.”

“Then we have another problem.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re prepared.”

“Are you telling me you took my case?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“No, not at all.”

“In that case… Congratulations, Mr Graham, you’ve just found a lawyer.”

“Seth.”

“Mmm?”

“Just Seth, please.”

I sigh again, softly this time.

“Seth. I’m…”

“Rowan,” the way he says, it’s like a caress down my back. It takes me a few seconds to recover from this feeling.

“Why... Uhm... Do you think you are replaceable?”

“Oh, well… First, I’m a bad bartender.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I swear. I really do suck. But Ross, my friend, the one you saw at the firm with me. He put in a good word with the owner, and so…”

“And you and this Ross…”

“Friends. We are just friends.”

“It’s for the file. The information, I mean. It’s not personal.”

He laughs nervously. “I hadn’t thought of that. Don’t worry.”

Now, I feel uncomfortable with his answer. I don’t want to offend him, but I don’t want to create misunderstandings. I’m his lawyer, after all. And I’m here to win, not to make friends or anything like that.

“And then,” he continues. “I’m certainly not the most attractive.”

“What do you mean?”

“The bartenders at the club must be… how shall I put this… Good-looking, sexy… hot. Well, I think you get the idea.”

Suddenly, my throat is dry. I take a sip of water to soothe the feeling, but it doesn’t help much.

“I like it, though. I feel good here. Everyone is nice, and the customers are very generous. They always leave good tips. I have three kids to raise, so that helps.”

“I understand that, but?—”

“But it doesn’t help my position.”

“No.”

“I’m looking for something else. I swear it’s not easy. Not with my poor skills.”

“If you give me a CV, I can try to make some calls.”

“It’s nice of you to say that, but when I talked about skills, I really meant that I have no skills at all.”

“That can’t be true.”

“All I know how to do is pour drinks and smile at people, and the first thing, as I told you, I also do pretty badly, too.”

“You could try a coffee shop, day shifts.”

“You think so?”

“A job that gets you home in time for dinner.”

“Maybe… I don’t know.”

“Bring a CV with you tomorrow. There is a café right next to the firm. I can talk to the owner.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Do you want to win this case or not?”

“I do. Absolutely.”

“Then you have to trust your lawyer.”

“OK.”

“Good.”

“I really should…”

“Sure. See you tomorrow.”

“Thank you. For calling, for the chat.”

I’m about to tell him I never meant to stay on the phone that long and that it was far from just a chat, but the moment I hear him smile, I hold back.

“It was nice.”

I can’t tell him it was strangely nice for me, too. I let his sentence settle on both of us without too much shaking and without damage.

“Good night, Rowan.”

“Good night,” I barely say before he ends the call.

I put my phone on the table and lean back in the chair. I look around, aware that something is not the same as before, then get up and walk to the living room window that opens onto the terrace. I slide open the glass door and step outside, needing air, sound, light, and noise.

The silence I love so much no longer suits me.

Suddenly, all I want to do is close my eyes and let the alive and vibrant city beneath me take over.