look up the cases online, see who he was defending and what they had done. The funny thing about all of Peter’s cases—” Jamie chews a piece of bacon “—when his clients are found innocent, no one else ever gets arrested for the crime. So, it seems to me, his guy must have done it. But they still go free all the time.”
Juliette seems to have spent quite a bit of time talking about me. I reflexively crack my neck in agitation.
“A person needs a proper defense. Our whole legal system is based on that notion. Innocent until proven guilty, right? And if the prosecution can’t prove it, then it’s the system’s problem.” Claire knows exactly what to say. I’ve trained her well.
“Do you ever talk to him about it?” Jamie’s fork and knife clatter onto the plate.
“Not much anymore, but we used to. Peter compartmentalizes his life, and he keeps me separated from his business. I think it’s easier for him to manage that way. He has to keep his emotions separate from work. It’s just a by-product of the job. It doesn’t make him a bad guy.”
“And he keeps his emotions separate from me, too.” Jamie lowers his voice, and I can hardly hear him over the grinding of my teeth. “I’ve never stayed in this house before. I’ve never even been here before.”
Claire exhales heavily. “Give him a chance, Jamie. He can be a father to you, and I know under all this, he wants to. Please, try to give him some time to adjust.” The faucet turns on as Claire begins washing up, and I can no longer hear their conversation.
I bark into my cell phone to keep up the facade that I’ve been on a call. As I walk back into the kitchen, I see the expression on Jamie’s face, and for the first time, I realize how much we look alike.
The backlash from the loss came almost immediately. Harrison Doyle was eager to show the voters of New York that he had been the right choice for their district attorney and gloated to the media. I was at a café having breakfast, reading the paper days after the verdict was announced, and there were still stories about the trial because both Harrison and Stu Bogovian refused to let it die.
A Post headline read, “Invigorated DA Vows to Continue Success, Convict All of Manhattan’s Criminals.” Inside the article, Harrison was quoted as saying, “Ex-Congressman Bogovian was practically a career criminal, and until he was found guilty last week, he was getting away with countless heinous acts. His attorney, Peter Caine of Rhodes & Caine, LLP, had the reputation for being unbeatable, but clearly, he has met his match. In this new administration, we refuse to allow anyone to bully the courts, and justice will be done.”
I felt assailed from all angles. It seemed no matter where I looked, I was being reminded of my first loss. In a television interview, I watched Stu rewrite the history of the trial.
“If I had an attorney worth his salt, I wouldn’t be in this godforsaken place, wearing this hideous jumpsuit, trying to clear my good name.” He sat inside an interview room at Rikers Island, inviting as many journalists as he could to come publicize his side of the story. “Of course I’m going to appeal the court’s decision. And once the verdict is overturned, which it surely will be—” he nodded his fat, sweaty head “—then I will probably sue my former attorney, Peter Caine. He shouldn’t be in this business if he is unable to properly represent his clients.”
I spent those days and weeks learning what it felt like to seethe. I was enraged, livid, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I had partnered with a man who was practically a celebrity and the face we put on in public and all the actions we took were scrutinized and dissected. My hands were tied, and I had to sit back and take it.
“You’re breathing awfully heavily over there,” Marcus said to me when I got to the office.
“I’m trying to keep from killing anyone.”
He flashed a grin that filled his whole face and pointed to his bottom drawer. “Bottle of gin down there if you need it.”
“I hate gin, never drink the stuff.”
“It’s good that you’re feeling this way. You should feel this way. You’ve never lost before, and you’re never going to want to lose again now that you know it doesn’t suit you.”
“You should have let me plead him out, Marcus. I don’t need to go through this to know I don’t like losing.”
“No. I don’t plead out. I don’t settle,” he growled. “You win and sometimes you lose, but you don’t play it safe. You’ll never get to my level playing it safe. I asked you to join me because I knew you had what it took, and this is just part of the learning process. Don’t you dare make me regret bringing you on.” He spoke to me the way I feared he would if I lost a case. But he wasn’t angry at me for losing, I told myself; he was just teaching me a lesson.
Marcus told me he was going to limit the cases I worked on for a while after the media coverage died down. He wanted me to focus on other endeavors. “I’m going to keep you under the radar for a while. You’re going to need to keep working, because I don’t want you hiding under the covers like a scared little bunny rabbit, but I want you out of the media for a while,” he said. “Get your bachelor pad in order, buy some suits, spend some time with Juliette. Spend some money, for crying out loud. You’ve earned it. But don’t say a word to the press, and keep up appearances like you don’t even know who the fuck Harrison Doyle is, you hear me? If he gets under your skin and anyone knows it, you’re done. Show them all that nothing can get to you. Learn to wear the disguise, Peter.”
“I don’t want to step off the main stage and get lost in the background, Marcus. I didn’t build this firm to be your number two. We are partners—equals.”
He glared at me with his head cocked to the left and stood up from behind his desk. “We are partners, but we are not equals. Until you get into the headspace you need to get into, you’re going to be number two, understand?”
“No, I don’t understand, Marcus. You want me to be your partner, you put my name next to yours, you’re encouraging me to take your daughter out, but still you don’t seem to think I’m ready. I don’t understand.”
My frustration was overwhelming. Before I partnered with Marcus, I’d been undefeated in court at my old firm, I’d been swimming in money and living the high life. In law school, I’d been at the top of my class, everyone had looked up to me, and now I was being made to lose cases, suffer indignity and public humiliation, and I was being told I was number two? This was supposed to be my ascent, not my downfall.
“You haven’t seen success yet,” Marcus said. “You think it felt good to win before? Just wait and see how it feels once we’re ‘equals,’ as you say. Once you’re up at my level and you know how to work this system, you’ll be so high, nothing will ever bring you down. I know you’re pissed now, and I know you don’t want to have to go through this schooling, but if you want to get to the top, you’ll do exactly what I say.”
* * *
Once I acquiesced to temporarily stepping out of the spotlight at Rhodes & Caine, I found, with Marcus’s help, it was easier than I thought to focus on life outside of work. He brought me to tailors who crafted me the highest quality bespoke suits and sent me to John Lobb to have shoes made.
