wedding planning,” Freddy says. “Let’s do some molly and get started on your thank-you notes.”
Tempting! Instead, I wander back to my room and flop on the bed. I pick up the binder for the Hoffman prep. I’m not actually going to work—surely there’s an ethical rule against billing under the influence. Although, wasn’t Sherlock Holmes all coked out when he solved his cases? Maybe I can crack this thing wide open! I open the binder and read the complaint again.
Nope. As far as the environmental claims go, the plaintiffs have pretty much nailed it. EnerGreen employees doctored the maintenance logs on the oil rig in the months leading up to the explosion. They racked up dozens of safety violations and chose to pay the fines rather than correct the problems. When the rig blew, they lied to state officials about how much oil was gushing into the Gulf. They deserve to fry for what they did, and I really wish they’d suck it up and settle.
I dial Lyle’s number. He answers. “What.”
“I have a question.” I lean back against the headboard with the binder in my lap. “What’s stopping the plaintiffs from giving Hoffman’s e-mails to the DOJ right now?”
“They can’t disclose them without violating a court order. The confidentiality stipulation states that the plaintiffs can’t show our documents to anyone who isn’t a party to the lawsuit.”
I remember now. “Unless that document is used at a deposition or at trial.”
“Right. If the plaintiffs properly offer the e-mails into evidence at Hoffman’s deposition, they effectively enter the public domain. Plaintiffs can then show them to the court, to the media, to the DOJ.”
“How’s Philip going to stop them?”
“He’s going to be Philip,” Lyle replies impatiently. “Daniel Kostova, plaintiffs’ lead counsel, is good, but Philip is better. He’ll fill the record with objections. He’ll ensure that Hoffman’s testimony is evasive and confusing, or that it repudiates the e-mails so clearly that if plaintiffs try to publicize them they’ll come off looking like misleading scumbags.And he’ll do it all with perfect courtesy and completely by the book, so the plaintiffs can’t cry foul.”
“But—”
“Why are you wasting my time?” Lyle demands. “You want to know what Philip’s going to do? Ask him yourself. Judging from what I overheard Saturday night, you know him a lot better than I do.”
I don’t say anything.
“I went up to his office to discuss the brief I was working on,” Lyle continues. “You weren’t exactly being discreet in there.”
I take a minute to think about that. I started sleeping with Philip a few months ago, when we were traveling together for a different case. It’s only happened a few times. It’s fun and exciting and meaningless—just the way I like it. Would I prefer that people at work not know about it? Of course. So this is unfortunate. But not a disaster. Lyle is my senior associate—he can make my life miserable, but he already does that. He can gossip, but so what? I haven’t broken any rules. God knows I’m not getting any preferential treatment from Philip—look at how I’m spending the week before my wedding.
This is my business, not Lyle’s. And the best way to deal with someone who doesn’t know something is none of his business is to let it go. So I do.
“I still don’t understand why we’re not settling,” I say. “Doesn’t EnerGreen know how bad this looks?”
“Urs keeps urging his higher-ups to settle, but they won’t listen to him. They have a lot of faith in Philip.”
“Can I ask you one more question?”
“No,” Lyle says, and hangs up.
9
I spend a little more time skimming through my binder, eventually dozing off. I wake up when Will comes in. He stretches out beside me on the bed and starts telling me about the friends he met up with. I hike up my skirt a little bit. Their names are Jason and Thomas. They were his roommates freshman year
Tempting! Instead, I wander back to my room and flop on the bed. I pick up the binder for the Hoffman prep. I’m not actually going to work—surely there’s an ethical rule against billing under the influence. Although, wasn’t Sherlock Holmes all coked out when he solved his cases? Maybe I can crack this thing wide open! I open the binder and read the complaint again.
Nope. As far as the environmental claims go, the plaintiffs have pretty much nailed it. EnerGreen employees doctored the maintenance logs on the oil rig in the months leading up to the explosion. They racked up dozens of safety violations and chose to pay the fines rather than correct the problems. When the rig blew, they lied to state officials about how much oil was gushing into the Gulf. They deserve to fry for what they did, and I really wish they’d suck it up and settle.
I dial Lyle’s number. He answers. “What.”
“I have a question.” I lean back against the headboard with the binder in my lap. “What’s stopping the plaintiffs from giving Hoffman’s e-mails to the DOJ right now?”
“They can’t disclose them without violating a court order. The confidentiality stipulation states that the plaintiffs can’t show our documents to anyone who isn’t a party to the lawsuit.”
I remember now. “Unless that document is used at a deposition or at trial.”
“Right. If the plaintiffs properly offer the e-mails into evidence at Hoffman’s deposition, they effectively enter the public domain. Plaintiffs can then show them to the court, to the media, to the DOJ.”
“How’s Philip going to stop them?”
“He’s going to be Philip,” Lyle replies impatiently. “Daniel Kostova, plaintiffs’ lead counsel, is good, but Philip is better. He’ll fill the record with objections. He’ll ensure that Hoffman’s testimony is evasive and confusing, or that it repudiates the e-mails so clearly that if plaintiffs try to publicize them they’ll come off looking like misleading scumbags.And he’ll do it all with perfect courtesy and completely by the book, so the plaintiffs can’t cry foul.”
“But—”
“Why are you wasting my time?” Lyle demands. “You want to know what Philip’s going to do? Ask him yourself. Judging from what I overheard Saturday night, you know him a lot better than I do.”
I don’t say anything.
“I went up to his office to discuss the brief I was working on,” Lyle continues. “You weren’t exactly being discreet in there.”
I take a minute to think about that. I started sleeping with Philip a few months ago, when we were traveling together for a different case. It’s only happened a few times. It’s fun and exciting and meaningless—just the way I like it. Would I prefer that people at work not know about it? Of course. So this is unfortunate. But not a disaster. Lyle is my senior associate—he can make my life miserable, but he already does that. He can gossip, but so what? I haven’t broken any rules. God knows I’m not getting any preferential treatment from Philip—look at how I’m spending the week before my wedding.
This is my business, not Lyle’s. And the best way to deal with someone who doesn’t know something is none of his business is to let it go. So I do.
“I still don’t understand why we’re not settling,” I say. “Doesn’t EnerGreen know how bad this looks?”
“Urs keeps urging his higher-ups to settle, but they won’t listen to him. They have a lot of faith in Philip.”
“Can I ask you one more question?”
“No,” Lyle says, and hangs up.
9
I spend a little more time skimming through my binder, eventually dozing off. I wake up when Will comes in. He stretches out beside me on the bed and starts telling me about the friends he met up with. I hike up my skirt a little bit. Their names are Jason and Thomas. They were his roommates freshman year
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