Love Proof (Laws of Attraction) - By Elizabeth Ruston Page 0,2
in check as she haggled over her price. It amused her how no one sat down again—the three of them stood clustered in front of Calvin’s door, just where they’d been when he rose to see her out. Sitting down, accepting a lower elevation than the others, might signal a loss of status. Sarah always liked to notice the different methods her fellow attorneys used to try to hold on to their power.
Finally they reached a deal. If the job really was going to last only five months, Sarah knew she would need every single penny of that salary to dig herself out of the debts she’d incurred since April. She might even be able to rebuild some of her savings, to protect against the next dry spell if this job didn’t turn into something more permanent.
But she couldn’t think that far ahead. She had work now, and that was what she needed.
She offered her hand first to Calvin, then to Mickey.
“She’s a killer, all right,” Calvin said to Mickey.
Mickey held Sarah’s hand a little too long. “Told you.”
Sarah gave her former law school classmate a wry look and a raised eyebrow until Mickey chuckled and released his grasp.
“Sorry to hear about that whole mess,” Calvin said in parting.
Sarah nodded. “Unfortunate,” was all she said.
The worst experience of my life, was what she thought.
***
The first series of depositions would begin in San Diego, then continue to Pasadena, San Jose, and Fresno. But Sarah knew this first one would set the tone for all the others.
Set the tone between her and Joe.
Unfortunately, two full hours passed before she got to ask a single question.
Paul Chapman was one of those lawyers who didn’t understand the crux of a case. He had his standard deposition questions—ones he’d probably learned in his first year as a lawyer, twenty or however many years ago—and Sarah assumed he never deviated from them since, no matter how irrelevant they were to the particular case before him.
“Where were you born? . . . What are your parents’ names? . . . Where did you go to high school? . . . Do you have any degrees? . . . Describe your work experience . . . When were you married? . . . How many children? . . . Their ages?”
Sarah could barely contain her irritation. The deposition could be over in one hour, two at most—even with her questions as well as Chapman’s—if only he’d get to the real issue at hand:
When did you buy your hair iron? Where? How many times per week did you use it? When did it catch on fire? What happened then? What injuries, if any, did you sustain? What expenses, if any, did you incur?
Out, deposition over, on to the airport.
At one point, when Chapman actually had the idiocy to ask the woman whether she tried to call the toll-free number on the Atheena Hair Glory website to ask them what to do in case her hair caught on fire, Sarah looked up and caught Joe smiling at her. She narrowed her eyes, and just for something to do, said, “Objection.”
Chapman turned to her, obviously out of sorts. It was the first time either Sarah or Joe had said anything to interrupt his brilliant line of questioning.
“On what basis?” Chapman asked.
“Sustained,” Joe said, even though only a judge had the power to do that. “Are you almost done, Paul? I think we could all use a break.”
Chapman flipped through his notes. Notes, Sarah thought, as if he couldn’t ask those useless questions from memory. How did a guy like that get to be a partner in one of the largest insurance defense firms in L.A.? But Sarah knew very well the inequities of a climb up the ladder of a firm. She had been a partner once, too. Briefly, for what it was worth.
And that turned out to be not much at all.
“Have you done anything to try to restore the damaged hair?” Chapman asked the woman.
“Like what?” she shot back. “Get a damn wig?”
“Yes,” Chapman answered, undeterred by the woman’s tone, “something like that.”
“Hats,” the woman said. “Lots of ugly-ass hats.”
“Okay, thank you, Darlene,” Joe said, gently touching the woman’s arm. “I think we need a break here. Back in fifteen?”
Sarah stood up and stretched, then turned over her legal pad and closed the lid to her laptop before heading out into the hallway. The court reporter joined her as they both went in search of a restroom.