exam.”
David added that to the growing list of defects.
“You’re not going to miss it, are you?” Wally asked.
“No, I’m breaking into a sweat right now, just looking at the building. I don’t want to get any closer.”
“Take a left on Washington. We’re almost there.”
I nside the Richard J. Daley Center, they passed through security scanners and took the elevator to the sixteenth floor. The place was bustling with lawyers and litigants, clerks and cops, either hustling about or huddled in little pockets of serious conversations. Justice was looming, and everyone seemed to be dreading it.
David had no idea where he was going or what he was doing, so he stuck close to Wally, who seemed quite at home. David was carrying his briefcase, which held only a single legal pad. They passed courtroom after courtroom.
“Have you really never seen the inside of a courtroom?” Wally asked as they walked quickly, their shoes clicking along on the worn marble tile.
“Not since law school.”
“Unbelievable. What have you been doing for the past five years?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I’m sure you’re right about that. This is us,” Wally said, pointing to the heavy double doors of a courtroom. A sign said: “Circuit Court of Cook County—Divorce Division, Hon. Charles Bradbury.”
“Who’s Bradbury?” David asked.
“You’re about to meet him.”
Wally opened the door, and they stepped inside. There were a few spectators scattered through the rows of benches. The lawyers were seated up front, bored and waiting. The witness chair was empty; no trial was in progress. Judge Bradbury was reviewing a document and taking his time. David and Wally sat in the second row. Wally scanned the courtroom, saw his client, smiled, and nodded.
He whispered to David, “This is known as an open day, as opposed to a trial day. Generally speaking, you can get motions granted, routine matters approved, crap like that. That lady over there in the short yellow dress is our beloved client DeeAnna Nuxhall, and she thinks she’s about to get another divorce.”
“Another?” David asked as he glanced over. DeeAnna winked at him. Bleached blonde, huge chest, legs everywhere.
“I’ve done one already. This would be my second. I think she has a prior.”
“Looks like a stripper.”
“Nothing would surprise me.”
Judge Bradbury signed some papers. Lawyers approached the bench, chatted with him, got what they wanted, and left. Fifteen minutes passed, and Wally was getting anxious.
“Mr. Figg,” the judge said.
Wally and David walked through the bar, past the tables, and approached the bench, a low one that allowed the lawyers to almost see eye to eye with His Honor. Bradbury shoved the microphone away so they could chat without being heard. “What’s up?” he said.
“We have a new associate, Your Honor,” Wally said proudly. “MeetDavid Zinc.” David reached over and shook hands with the judge, who received him warmly. “Welcome to my courtroom,” he said.
“David’s been with a big firm downtown. Now he wants to see the real side of justice,” Wally said.
“You won’t learn much from Figg,” Bradbury said with a chuckle.
“He went to Harvard Law School,” Wally said, even prouder.
“Then what are you doing here?” the judge asked, and appeared to be dead serious.
“Got sick of the big firm,” David said.
Wally was handing over some paperwork. “We have a slight problem here, Judge. My client is the lovely DeeAnna Nuxhall, fourth row left, in the yellow dress.” Bradbury peered slightly over his reading glasses and said, “She looks familiar.”
“Yep, she was here about a year ago, second or third divorce.”
“Same dress, I think.”
“Yes, I think so too. Same dress, but the boobs are new.”
“You getting any?”
“Not yet.”
David felt faint. The judge and the lawyer were discussing sex with the client in open court, though no one could hear.
“What’s
David added that to the growing list of defects.
“You’re not going to miss it, are you?” Wally asked.
“No, I’m breaking into a sweat right now, just looking at the building. I don’t want to get any closer.”
“Take a left on Washington. We’re almost there.”
I nside the Richard J. Daley Center, they passed through security scanners and took the elevator to the sixteenth floor. The place was bustling with lawyers and litigants, clerks and cops, either hustling about or huddled in little pockets of serious conversations. Justice was looming, and everyone seemed to be dreading it.
David had no idea where he was going or what he was doing, so he stuck close to Wally, who seemed quite at home. David was carrying his briefcase, which held only a single legal pad. They passed courtroom after courtroom.
“Have you really never seen the inside of a courtroom?” Wally asked as they walked quickly, their shoes clicking along on the worn marble tile.
“Not since law school.”
“Unbelievable. What have you been doing for the past five years?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“I’m sure you’re right about that. This is us,” Wally said, pointing to the heavy double doors of a courtroom. A sign said: “Circuit Court of Cook County—Divorce Division, Hon. Charles Bradbury.”
“Who’s Bradbury?” David asked.
“You’re about to meet him.”
Wally opened the door, and they stepped inside. There were a few spectators scattered through the rows of benches. The lawyers were seated up front, bored and waiting. The witness chair was empty; no trial was in progress. Judge Bradbury was reviewing a document and taking his time. David and Wally sat in the second row. Wally scanned the courtroom, saw his client, smiled, and nodded.
He whispered to David, “This is known as an open day, as opposed to a trial day. Generally speaking, you can get motions granted, routine matters approved, crap like that. That lady over there in the short yellow dress is our beloved client DeeAnna Nuxhall, and she thinks she’s about to get another divorce.”
“Another?” David asked as he glanced over. DeeAnna winked at him. Bleached blonde, huge chest, legs everywhere.
“I’ve done one already. This would be my second. I think she has a prior.”
“Looks like a stripper.”
“Nothing would surprise me.”
Judge Bradbury signed some papers. Lawyers approached the bench, chatted with him, got what they wanted, and left. Fifteen minutes passed, and Wally was getting anxious.
“Mr. Figg,” the judge said.
Wally and David walked through the bar, past the tables, and approached the bench, a low one that allowed the lawyers to almost see eye to eye with His Honor. Bradbury shoved the microphone away so they could chat without being heard. “What’s up?” he said.
“We have a new associate, Your Honor,” Wally said proudly. “MeetDavid Zinc.” David reached over and shook hands with the judge, who received him warmly. “Welcome to my courtroom,” he said.
“David’s been with a big firm downtown. Now he wants to see the real side of justice,” Wally said.
“You won’t learn much from Figg,” Bradbury said with a chuckle.
“He went to Harvard Law School,” Wally said, even prouder.
“Then what are you doing here?” the judge asked, and appeared to be dead serious.
“Got sick of the big firm,” David said.
Wally was handing over some paperwork. “We have a slight problem here, Judge. My client is the lovely DeeAnna Nuxhall, fourth row left, in the yellow dress.” Bradbury peered slightly over his reading glasses and said, “She looks familiar.”
“Yep, she was here about a year ago, second or third divorce.”
“Same dress, I think.”
“Yes, I think so too. Same dress, but the boobs are new.”
“You getting any?”
“Not yet.”
David felt faint. The judge and the lawyer were discussing sex with the client in open court, though no one could hear.
“What’s
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