Caged By The Mysterious BillionaireBy: Riley Moreno
If Looks Could Kill
Regina James badly needed coffee. Her morning meeting with her client Rodney St. James had gone horribly. He had cried and confessed to the rape he was accused of and then yelled and called Regina a fat gorilla when she had asked if he was willing to settle out of court.
“Some people can’t handle truth coming from women in positions of power,” she muttered and took her high heels off to rest her feet. She picked up her desk phone and dialed the extension for her assistant but was surprised to find Jeffry at the door with a steaming cup of coffee.
“I thought you might need this,” Jeffry, a lanky young man with a shock of loose curls and black round glasses, scrunched up his nose. “Didn’t take it too well did he?” he asked.
“No,” Regina shook her head and took a grateful swallow. “But he’s going to have to settle. The girl has video evidence.”
“Maybe he was framed? You know, maybe the girl planned it so she could sue him,” Jeffry said taking a seat across the desk, “I mean he is a trust fund baby and she’s, well, not.”
Regina smiled at her assistant.
“You’ve been reading too many trashy novels,” she said. “No, it’s CCTV footage. Plus there were witnesses. It’s not like he was discreet about it; did it on the library steps where anyone could see.”
“Yeesh,” Jeffry made a disgusted face. “Oh by the way, I’d put those shoes back on if I were you.”
“Why?” Regina asked.
“Because the Duck just called,” he said referring to her boss Donald Quick, “And their assigning you a new client. You’re going to the Silver Lake police station.”
“Do we have a file?”
“It’s printing as we speak.”
“When do I leave?”
“Five minutes ago,” Jeffry smiled sheepishly.
“If I get fired,” Regina sighed, “I’m taking you with me.”
“Deal,” Jeffry said getting up from his chair. “I’ll bring the file for you. You know, I think the Duck is testing you. If you can get this client on board he might view you favorably for partner this year.”
Regina swallowed the rest of her coffee quickly and reapplied her lipstick. She was annoyed at the unexpected appointment and wasn’t looking forward to meeting the client in lockup. Her office was the smallest in the firm but at least she controlled this environment and what happened in here; she was boss. Out there, things got messy and police stations were by far the worst.
I hope he isn’t a loon, she thought putting her shoes back on and grabbing her purse and a legal notepad from the table. She took the file from Jeffry and flipped through it in the elevator and then the parking lot.
“Murder,” she muttered. “Well, that I can work with.”
She started the car and drove out of the parking lot. Regina had been a lawyer for fifteen years now, ten of those working for Quick, Sherman and Bale; she had a sterling record of cases won; only a few losses but those were cases much like Rodney St. James with too much evidence against them, the only option left to them to settle out of court.
Which those spoiled idiots never take, Regina thought.
Regina had defended the undefendable and won, handled cases that were simply drudgework with a smile and now she felt she was due for a shot at making partner. Yet her name had never been nominated; a consequence of being the only black female in a very white, male infested law firm.
Only successful black female, she thought with a sarcastic smile.
Regina wasn’t people’s idea of a successful black woman; she was too black and too big in the hips. When people thought of success they thought caramel colored women with lowlight blonde hair and skinny legs. But those were just fantasies. Regina was the real deal, knew it, flaunted it and that’s why she was so hard to swallow. She refused to buy the bull peddled to her about knowing her place.
“Oh, you surprised us,” was the usual refrain, “We thought you’d be more,”
Regina was big, in the hips, in the chest and she had a personality big enough to match it. When she’d told her high school career counselor that she wanted to go to law school, she’d laughed and said, “Not looking like that you’re not; you look like you belong in the ghetto serving soup to the homeless.”