bent and it could alienate me from the influential people I was trying to fall in with. “My father was an art dealer, and we spent most of my childhood living in different countries in Europe.”
“Oh, wow. That sounds interesting.”
“It was.” I tried to conjure up images of old European cities in my head. “What about you? Did you grow up in New York?” I steered the conversation back to her.
“Yes, born and raised in Manhattan.” She turned her chair to face me. “Tell me what it was like living around Europe. Did you have a favorite place?” She seemed to want to keep the spotlight off her background just as much as I wanted to keep it off mine.
“I look back now and realize it was very glamorous when you think about it from an outside perspective, but it was hard for a kid.” I’d practiced these lines. “I went to excellent schools, but I never stayed at the same one for more than a couple of years, didn’t make lasting friendships and I was always somewhere I didn’t know the language.” These quick, heartstring-tugging snippets would provide just enough information for people to find me intriguing and sympathetic. I took a dramatic pause and sipped from a green tea that Juliette had ordered for me.
“That’s so lonely,” she said with compassionate eyes. “Do you have any siblings?”
“No, it was just me and my parents. Definitely a lonely time.” Although the story isn’t true, the sentiments were. I did have a lonely upbringing, but it wasn’t in Europe and it wasn’t because I didn’t have siblings.
The evening felt easy and natural, despite me telling her manufactured stories. She told me how she came to follow Eileen Cutler’s career, and I told her of my dreams to be a high-powered defense attorney. I found her charming as she discussed her passion for helping others, and her work to open her own charitable organization. She seemed to imply family connections and money but kept the details guarded, and I didn’t pry.
“Do you have any idols in your field?” she asked me, after gushing over Eileen. “Seems a difficult business to keep one’s integrity.”
“Maybe. But I find being a defense attorney quite honorable. The justice system hinges on the belief that lawyers are fighting for the rights of their clients, but often defense attorneys are underdogs in the fight.” I turned my body to face her. “With my talents and abilities, I am simply serving to even the playing field. And yes, I do have an idol in my business.”
“Tell me about him.” She looked at me kindly. “I’m interested to hear your perspective.”
“Ever since I wrapped my mind around going into criminal defense, there’s one man whose career just blows everyone else’s away. He’s a legend in the business, and I met him at an event before I graduated.” The excitement was rising in my voice. “It was Christmastime, and my cohort was invited to a big party hosted by different law firms. All the big names were there, as well as representatives from the public defenders’ offices and the DA’s office. I was first in my class, and I knew many of the lawyers were there to talk to me specifically.”
Juliette seemed impressed, listening intently as she ate.
“This lawyer—my hero—was known and feared, having beaten many of the other lawyers who were there in court battles, and my classmates were practically starstruck when they noticed him standing by the entrance. He called my name—‘Caine,’ he said, and he didn’t even look at me as he said it, he just lifted a glass of scotch in my direction.”
Juliette’s head bounced in a slow, methodical nod. “He knew your name?”
“Most of the lawyers did, yes.” I suddenly felt reticent. I didn’t want Juliette to get the impression that I was gloating. “They do their research before recruiting events.”
“That must have been a thrill for you.”
“Oh, absolutely. I was nervous and excited when I approached him. He just handed me the scotch, picked up his martini glass and then turned and walked to a corner away from everyone. I followed him. I didn’t really know what to do. I mean, I’ve been admiring this guy’s career since college, and I couldn’t believe he was there to talk to me. Then he downed his whole drink in one sip and asked me if I was ready to give up all the bullshit.”
“Gin?” Juliette asked.
“What?”
“Never mind. What was he talking about?” Her tone was deliberate, knowing.
“He pointed at the rest of the lawyers in the room and told me that they were all there to fawn over me, and if I was serious about my career, I would call him instead. He asked me if I was ready to realize my talents and rise to the top.” I recalled the event with embarrassment. “All I had ever wanted to do was meet this guy and impress him, and when he was standing in front of me, I had no idea what to say.”
“So, what did you say?”
“I told him I was willing to take any opportunity he was willing to give me. Looking back, now I see why he was immediately turned off. He told me that I was still soft, and I should call him when I toughened up. He put his card on the corner of a cocktail table and walked out without saying another word to me.”
“Did you ever call him?” She had turned to face me and was studying my eyes.
“His card didn’t even have a number on it. It was just his name. Like he was leaving me a challenge to go and find him, like that would prove that I was ready to take him up on his offer.”
“And?” she asked excitedly.
“Well, truth be told—” I looked around us for eavesdroppers, then leaned in conspiratorially “—I tracked down his number months ago, and we’re opening a firm together. I’m keeping it hush-hush for now, don’t want to jinx myself before everything is finalized.”
Juliette and I ordered a last round of drinks. She congratulated me and toasted the news that I was about to open my own firm with my professional hero. As I paid the bill, I found myself uncharacteristically drawn to her, and I didn’t want the evening to end. I knew dragging it out beyond its natural conclusion would put a future encounter in jeopardy, so against my natural inclinations, I brought the evening to a close. She commended me again on my new business ventures and scooted her stool back.
“It has been a pleasure spending time with you, Miss Juliette, and I hope you will allow me to take you out again sometime.” I stood and held my hand out to help her from her seat.
“Thank you, Mr. Caine.” She bit her lower lip and smiled an unforgettable smile. As I guided her toward the door, she pulled a packet of matches from a bowl and scribbled her phone number inside. She raised her arm for a taxi on the corner and handed me the matchbook. “Call me,” she said as a taxi pulled up in front of us. “I’d love to hear how the business turns out.”
I watched the taxi heading uptown on Third Avenue until the rear lights blended in with the horizon. I called her the next day, and thus initiated the beginning of her end.
Everything feels status quo, not unlike any other day of my life, despite cremating my ex-wife and becoming the sole guardian to my estranged teenage son. But every person I pass looks at me a little closer, stays and chats a little longer, compassionately touches my shoulder, as if these changes were something drastic. Anna, my assistant, hands me my morning coffee as I pass her in the hallway, and a junior partner whose name I’ve forgotten blocks the path to my office.
“So sorry to hear about your wife, Peter,” he says to me. “I hear she was a wonderful woman.”
“Ex-wife,” I correct as I push past him and continue down the hall. As a man known to not need sympathy, let alone accept it, I can’t understand why my colleagues would still offer condolence for the