did.
PAUL HAD just bought a loft in Dumbo and was throwing himself a housewarming party. He'd made me promise to come, despite knowing I wouldn't want to. The party would be full of my former coworkers, rife with reminders of my fall from grace. But Paul had insisted; he'd argued that it would be good for me.
I waited until a little after eleven to leave for Paul's, wanting the party to be well under way when I arrived, hoping it would help me blend in. I was actively dreading going, not at all sure I could face meeting up with so many people who knew about my past. Since Beth had died I'd largely stopped going out, socializing only with those very few people who didn't seem to be either judging or pitying me.
Dumbo was Brooklyn's attempt at a downtown Manhattan neighborhood, with converted lofts and high-end stores, although it was too patchy and industrial to quite pull it off, feeling more like a movie-set version of SoHo than the thing itself. Paul's building was a converted factory redone in high style, a doorman in the lobby, contemporary art on the walls, moody, abstract daubs of dark colors. The door to Paul's apartment was open, and I let myself in. I'd brought a six-pack of beer and was putting it in Paul's fridge when I heard someone say my name.
I turned and found myself face-to-face with Ted Chandler. Ted and I had been classmates at Columbia and had both joined Walker Bentley after graduation. We'd been casual acquaintances for almost a decade without ever really getting to know each other. Next to Ted was an attractive woman whom I didn't recognize. She had long, curly red hair and a kittenish smile, and wore a tight V-necked shirt that emphasized her full breasts.
Ted and I went through the motions of acting happy to see each other, after which he introduced me to the woman. Her name was Melanie; she had just lateraled over to the firm from a job in San Francisco.
"So what are you doing now, Joel?" Ted asked, looking uncomfortable as he asked.
"I'm working as a public defender here in Brooklyn," I said.
"You left Walker to become a public defender?" Melanie asked.
"I suppose you could say that," I said, glancing over at Ted.
"That's awesome," Melanie exclaimed, smiling warmly at me. I'd inadvertently captured her attention: she had the wrong idea about my career change, but there wasn't exactly a way for me to correct it.
"I mean, everybody says they're going to do the law-firm thing for a couple of
years and then go do something cool, but nobody actually does."
"Well," Ted said dryly, looking from Melanie to me, then back to Melanie,
"Joel always did have more of a sense of adventure than the typical Walker
associate."
"It would be hard not to," I replied.
"Tell me about it," Melanie said.
"There you are," Paul said, coming up from behind me. "I was
beginning to think you weren't going to show."
"Got here as soon as I could," I said. "What with all the fighting
for justice I do."
"Were you working today?" Melanie asked.
I didn't know whether Melanie was oblivious to my sarcasm or deliberately ignoring it. I decided to assume the latter.
"Actually, yeah," I said. "I just got back from Sing Sing a few hours ago."
"I was in the office all day reviewing documents," Paul said. "But
you don't hear me bragging about it."
"What's your client in for?" Melanie asked.
"Felony murder," I said, keeping it deadpan, deciding to just go with the role that this conversation was assigning me.
"That sounds pretty intense."
"The prison is," I said. "The client wasn't."
"He's not scary?" Ted asked.
"Not in the least."
"You don't sit there thinking about how he's a murderer?" Ted pressed.
"He's not a murderer," I said.
"I thought you said he was in for murder."
"I did," I said. "But that doesn't mean he did it."
"Somebody must have thought so," Ted said.
"He was convicted, sure," I said. "And if your point is that our
jury system is foolproof, well then I guess you got me there."
"You really
PAUL HAD just bought a loft in Dumbo and was throwing himself a housewarming party. He'd made me promise to come, despite knowing I wouldn't want to. The party would be full of my former coworkers, rife with reminders of my fall from grace. But Paul had insisted; he'd argued that it would be good for me.
I waited until a little after eleven to leave for Paul's, wanting the party to be well under way when I arrived, hoping it would help me blend in. I was actively dreading going, not at all sure I could face meeting up with so many people who knew about my past. Since Beth had died I'd largely stopped going out, socializing only with those very few people who didn't seem to be either judging or pitying me.
Dumbo was Brooklyn's attempt at a downtown Manhattan neighborhood, with converted lofts and high-end stores, although it was too patchy and industrial to quite pull it off, feeling more like a movie-set version of SoHo than the thing itself. Paul's building was a converted factory redone in high style, a doorman in the lobby, contemporary art on the walls, moody, abstract daubs of dark colors. The door to Paul's apartment was open, and I let myself in. I'd brought a six-pack of beer and was putting it in Paul's fridge when I heard someone say my name.
I turned and found myself face-to-face with Ted Chandler. Ted and I had been classmates at Columbia and had both joined Walker Bentley after graduation. We'd been casual acquaintances for almost a decade without ever really getting to know each other. Next to Ted was an attractive woman whom I didn't recognize. She had long, curly red hair and a kittenish smile, and wore a tight V-necked shirt that emphasized her full breasts.
Ted and I went through the motions of acting happy to see each other, after which he introduced me to the woman. Her name was Melanie; she had just lateraled over to the firm from a job in San Francisco.
"So what are you doing now, Joel?" Ted asked, looking uncomfortable as he asked.
"I'm working as a public defender here in Brooklyn," I said.
"You left Walker to become a public defender?" Melanie asked.
"I suppose you could say that," I said, glancing over at Ted.
"That's awesome," Melanie exclaimed, smiling warmly at me. I'd inadvertently captured her attention: she had the wrong idea about my career change, but there wasn't exactly a way for me to correct it.
"I mean, everybody says they're going to do the law-firm thing for a couple of
years and then go do something cool, but nobody actually does."
"Well," Ted said dryly, looking from Melanie to me, then back to Melanie,
"Joel always did have more of a sense of adventure than the typical Walker
associate."
"It would be hard not to," I replied.
"Tell me about it," Melanie said.
"There you are," Paul said, coming up from behind me. "I was
beginning to think you weren't going to show."
"Got here as soon as I could," I said. "What with all the fighting
for justice I do."
"Were you working today?" Melanie asked.
I didn't know whether Melanie was oblivious to my sarcasm or deliberately ignoring it. I decided to assume the latter.
"Actually, yeah," I said. "I just got back from Sing Sing a few hours ago."
"I was in the office all day reviewing documents," Paul said. "But
you don't hear me bragging about it."
"What's your client in for?" Melanie asked.
"Felony murder," I said, keeping it deadpan, deciding to just go with the role that this conversation was assigning me.
"That sounds pretty intense."
"The prison is," I said. "The client wasn't."
"He's not scary?" Ted asked.
"Not in the least."
"You don't sit there thinking about how he's a murderer?" Ted pressed.
"He's not a murderer," I said.
"I thought you said he was in for murder."
"I did," I said. "But that doesn't mean he did it."
"Somebody must have thought so," Ted said.
"He was convicted, sure," I said. "And if your point is that our
jury system is foolproof, well then I guess you got me there."
"You really
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