cheers

this case has been a lesson in expect the unexpected. Every time there has been a chance for something to go wacky, it has. Monday night the entire freaking town of cherry hill lost power from 9-2. And that's where our copy service was located who planned to work through the night to copy all our trial exhibits. How do you explain that to the judge? Sorry my exhibits aren't here when you ordered them judge but my copy service doesn't have a freaking back up generator?

But yesterday the truly unimaginable occurred. The case actually settled!

We are all still in shock and wandering around a little lost today, not really sure what to do with ourselves. It's like the day after the bar exam, you wake up late in a panic and your first thought is "holy shit! I have to study" and as realization hits, the next conscious thought becomes "wow...what the hell do I do now?"

But the team is walking around today feeling like a huge weight has been lifted. Our steps are lighter and minds clearer than the months that led up to this moment. We are basking in the emails praising us for a job well done. Though we all have to admit that we're a little sad to see the case end here. It settled because of the work we poured into the prep. We out argued and out prepared the other side. But it would have been fun to see it all play out in the courtroom.

Now you'll have to excuse me. I have a toast to get to, to celebrate the best damn trial team ever. Cheers.

(By the way, if you're looking for my Theme Thursday post, this isn't it. Scroll down to the "Fabrics" post below this one)

Fabrics

She threw open the closet doors, staring for a moment at the vibrant colors which stood in stark contrast to the black she now wore. She ran her fingers along the fabrics, feeling the soft silks and satins, the cottons and felts. Each one held a different memory, the impression still so strong it was an indelible scar on her psyche.

The red silk she wore to formal, the first time he said he loved her. Growled it was more like it. They were each there with other people. He cornered her outside, grabbed her roughly and crushed his mouth against hers. She pushed him away, demanding to know what he was thinking when her boyfriend was inside at the bar just a few feet away. "BECAUSE. I. LOVE. YOU." he yelled...

The costume she wore to the dated party. The one where he held her close as they danced to "Secret Garden," whispering in her ear how she made him a better man. How he always wanted them to be together. That if he hadn't already done it, he'd drop to his knee at that moment and ask her to be his wife...

The soft cotton of his letters...The smooth satin of the lingerie he bought her...All memories from happier times.

Then there was the midnight blue felt... The shirt she wore the night she caught him kissing another girl as she walked up the stairs of the bar. The night she actually managed the impossible - silencing the entire overcapacity crowd at the Station when she slapped him across the face and threatened the slut who with him.

The black mesh she wore to the winter formal, where she stood in the streets of Alexandria as he screamed at her in a drunken rage. Telling her that she wasn't enough for him. Would never be good enough.

The brown velvet that hugged her body the night she most wanted to forget... Remembering that night, her control shattered.

She grabbed it all. Everything that reminded her of him. The clothes. The letters. The photos. The gifts, there were surprisingly few of those from him despite all she had given to him... All the mementos from their years together.

She lugged it all outside to the middle of Frat Row. Then she topped the pile with the cheap bottle of tequila they'd brought back from Cancun, lit a match and let it burn. As she watched the flames, a sense of peace came over her, filling the void where fear and anger resided for far too long.

The fire had wiped away every last trace of their time together. But the flames failed to remove the memories. The lingering doubts, the echos of his taunts that she wasn't enough. If only those were as easy to erase...

_________

This week's themes were "felt" and "impression." Go check out the other Theme Thursday stories here.

Fuzzy math...

I've never been very good with numbers. It's why I became a lawyer - all I need to know is how many zeros you should tack on so we can reach a "fair" settlement. But how 'bout these numbers:

The amount of days one can function on caffeine and adrenaline alone... 24

The number of hours one can bill in 24 days without collapsing into an exhausted heap of goo... 215

The number of hours one can bill in a week if they give up sleep, eating and just about all other activities...92

The number of reams of paper we killed off prepping for this case... at least 500

The number of people I dragged into the office this weekend to finish prep...10

The number of cups of coffee and cans of soda I've consumed in the past week... too fucking many to count!

The number of days since I last saw my husband or son...3


And now, I think I'm going to collapse on the couch with my boys, a glass a wine and wish that I could sleep for the next month straight!

Thanks for all the support - I love you guys for being my cheerleaders through this!

Time to Face the Facts

Okay... It's Friday. Time to face the facts...

I don't know that we're ready to go to trial. I mean, we could spend another six months getting this thing ready and still not be ready. The case is that big and has that many moving pieces.

I've lost my perspective and have crossed over from stressed to pissed. So, instead of chaining myself to the desk all day, I'm actually taking my lunch. Well...not really lunch. I'm going to the damn gym. I can't wait to get there, have my trainer kick my ass with a punishing workout, which hopefully will include lots of boxing. And even though I'll probably spend the entire time worrying about what is waiting for me back at the office, I'll come back calmer and more focused than I've been all week. And unable to lift my arms without feeling tomorrow's soreness.

The rational part of me knows that I could not possibly have worked any harder, done anything more for my partner. I know that no other associate would have worked as hard as me and accomplished as much as I have in this short amount of time. No one else could have kept this many balls juggling and coordinated something this big.

But the irrational side of me just wants to cry. Because I don't know that my best was good enough. And that gets me even more irrational and pissed off... I didn't work this hard and spend this much time away from my family for it not to be enough.

Either way, it's going to be a LONG weekend. I kissed my son good night last night and I'm not going to be seeing him again until Sunday. Hubby's flying down to Florida to play with his family who get to do something cool involving the space shuttle. Andrew's going to have a great time hanging out with my parents. And I will basically be living at my office.

Come Sunday when I drag my ass out of the office, delirious and bleary eyed, there will be nothing more that I can do. The rest will be in the partner's hands...

Catch you on the other side.

Bread?

I wanted to write another piece of the vampire story tonight, but life and this damn trial got in the way...

Right now I'm sitting at the office watching a mock trial of the fraud portion of this case. I lined it up and pumped a ton of work into getting it ready. Our experts, paralegals, a couple other associates and I are watching the fun and games on tv instead of live from our trial room. (Yes, we have a room in our office set up like a court room so we can do stuff like this.)

I should be sitting at counsel table, supporting my guys. But, hell, I won't be there during the trial anyway so they might as well get used to not seeing my face around. I think our witness was freaked out that I wasn't going to be there though. Apparently I'm a calming influence.

It's amazing watching this unfold. We gave another attorney the role of playing opposing counsel. He's been masterful at spinning a convincing tale. It was really too easy for him. And I'm watching him get in my client's face and my poor guy looks like he REALLY needs a drink right about now.

But this is good practice. Because the grilling he's getting is nothing in comparison to what he's going to see at trial. Because we're getting invaluable insight from the jury about the strengths and weaknesses of our case and our star witness. Because we've just impressed the hell out of a very demanding client who has the potential to give us a shit load of work.

And really, this post has nothing at all to do with this week's theme of bread. Although my favorite line tonight in the Bank's opening statement provides the only actual tie in here... "The bread and butter, the heart and sole of this case, is fraud, deceit and lies."

Yeah... another cheap play on the theme. What do you want from me? I'm still at my office after 16 hours of literally running around in 5 inch stilettos. I can't wait to get out of this suit and pry these freaking shoes off my feet... Damn I want a glass of wine and a foot rub in the worst way.

Random Fuzzy Thoughts

It's never been more painfully apparent that I'm not in college anymore. I used to do some of my best work at 2 AM. I could pull all nighters with ease.

Not anymore!

I billed over 40 hours this weekend. That's what I'm supposed to bill in an average WEEK. The upside, if there is one, is that I will have fulfilled my monthly hours quota probably by Wednesday and build up a nice little cushion for the vacation I keep telling myself that I'm going to take when this trial is finally over.

It's never a good thing when you put on a pot of coffee at 10:30 at night. But, being the good wife that I am, when I rolled through the door after my 15 hour day, I took Andrew upstairs and put him to bed. Well...tried to put him to bed anyway. He only fell asleep about 20 minutes ago. And I easily have another 5 hours of work I have to crank out tonight.

Have I mentioned that my paralegal is the best? She dropped off a care package for me this morning. Pasta. Italian bread. Freshly grated Parmesan. Home made sauce. Just because she thought it had been awhile since hubby and I had a nice, home cooked meal. (At least one which didn't involve reheating something straight out of the freezer in the microwave)

My assistant's pretty damn great too. She kept coming in all day telling me how much she loved working for me and appreciated me. Of course, she kept doing this because the people who are trying to fill my shoes on other files are fucking up royally.

I suppose there's something to be said for job security.

But speaking of fucking up royally, let me vent for a moment. Because of the people who are helping me out with prep...one of them won't stop plagiarizing cases (even after I called them out on it after the first time)... one of them refuses to use punctuation (is it so hard to put the period at the END of a sentence?)... and one of them has the most brilliant legal mind I've ever seen - but cannot translate that to writing in English...

It's going to be a very long night because all this shit has to be out the door by 2:30 this afternoon...

Wish me luck!

Dad-isms

Dad-isms. You know. The wacky stuff your dad says over and over again, hoping that he's passing on life lessons, but most of the time it's just annoying the hell out of you. The scary part is, the stuff actually sinks in.

The first time I actually heard myself repeating a dad-ism, I was horrified. I told someone "if work was easy, it wouldn't be called work."

Holy shit!

Was I becoming my father? Next thing you know, was going to start losing my hair and speaking in baseball analogies?

Some of them stuck harder than others... You won't see any other attorney standing in the copy room binding briefs because we're over deadline and the messenger is screaming that he has to leave RIGHT NOW to get to the courthouse before it closes. In those moments, my dad's voice is echoing in my ear, telling me there are no superstars on this team - we do what we have to do for the team to succeed.

My staff thinks I'm crazy because it's not my job to do the copying and binding. But they also know I'll do anything to things get done. That I never ask someone to do something I wouldn't - haven't - done myself. So, in turn, they will do just about anything for me without complaint.

But the dad-ism that always drove me crazy was "we do not define ourselves by external standards."

First off, doesn't everyone, to some extent, worry about what other people think of them? Dress with more care when meeting with clients, going to a networking event or appearing in court? Hell, if I'm wrong on that, I'm rolling into the office in ripped jeans and a ratty old sweatshirt from now on!

But no matter what he says, when I work my ass off, when I do a great job for you, I expect a little acknowledgment. I want a little praise.

I've put everything into this case, this trial. My heart. My nights. My weekends. My time away from my husband and son.

I know I'm doing a kick ass job. Still, I just want a little "thank you."

I may never get it from the boss, who has his head so far into trial mode, he can barely think beyond the cross of the next witness. But last night, at least I got it from somewhere. An unlikely source. A partner known for being a cold, sarcastic son of a bitch.

I'll take my strokes where ever I can right now. Sometimes those few little words make all the difference. (Sorry dad, but they do!)

One week to go...

Yes, I've been a bad little blogger...

I'm not posting much.

Commenting even less frequently.

I haven't come up with a good idea for my new collaboration with Otin.

My Theme Thursday post was a total cop out...The truth is I was too tired to fully develop the plot. But thanks for saying you all liked it anyway.

And I'm getting my ass kicked by Jen and Hannah in Mr. C's competition.

Though I suppose that last one is a lesson in knowing your audience. If he had more male followers, I'd totally be in the lead. Then again, if all of you go over there and vote for me, I might be winning too :P Yes, that was a not so subtle hint. I HATE losing, what can I say?

Anyway, we have one week to go until the big case goes to trial. I was at the office at 3:30 yesterday morning and worked until 5 in the afternoon. I don't know how I managed to keep myself awake through dinner and an even larger mystery is how I was able to keep myself upright until about 8:30.

I have 20 briefs that have to be filed on Tuesday. In-house counsel is trying to make himself a witness in the case. My boss has me searching for documents that are in his office. I can't get a damn thing done because everyone is running to me to answer questions, tell them what they need to know about the case, fix their problems and keep all the balls in the air. And the weight of the responsibility that's been heaped on me is crushing me.

But... when I get past the fact that I have so much shit to do that I don't know where to start... when I forget about the fact that I can't close my eyes without dreaming this case... when I have a chance to just breathe...

I suppose this is a tremendous compliment to me and my abilities. He trusts me enough to dump everything on me. He isn't giving me any guidance whatsoever because he knows I can handle whatever problem comes up without his micromanaging everything. He's in awe of the fact that he mentions setting up a mock trial as I'm leaving the office and before he gets in the next morning, every detail is lined up.

7 more days.

Then maybe I can start to get back some semblance of a life.

Surface

The man sat alone at the end of the bar, his mood foul as he pounded back his third beer. The bartender kept her distance while quietly observing him. His rage rolled off him in powerful dark waves. He was tall with muscles rippling under his tight black shirt. His face was ruggedly handsome and the deep scar across his cheek added to the dangerous air he had about him.

As he slammed his empty mug down against the bar, she hustled over with another beer and slipped away without a word. It went on like this for hours. The more he drank, the darker his mood became. The bartender was about to approach, ask him to settle up and go, when another man came over. He was small and slight, moving awkwardly in his blue jeans and white polo shirt. The two men were polar oppositions and seemingly had no reason to know each other.

The bartender listened as unobtrusively as possible when they began to talk. “Damn it, Jay! I told you this would happen.” The small man exclaimed angrily. “Everything was fine! Bitch was gone. Life was good. Now they’re going and fucking digging up the past!”

“Timmy…What the hell are you talking about?” Jay growled back.

“They’re exhuming her body! There’s DNA now. What if they find out what we did?”

That got Jay’s attention. “There is NO WAY that body is coming to the surface.” A twisted smile formed. “But that’s your problem, man. There ain’t nothing linking me to the crime. Don’t forget… YOU pulled the trigger.”

A bottle slipped from the bartender’s fingers, crashing to the floor. She immediately turned to them, hoping desperately they didn’t see her, didn’t know she overheard everything. Her heart sank when she saw their expressions. They knew.

Both men stood abruptly, knocking their bar stools to the ground. She vaulted over the bar and took off running. The police station was just down the block. If only she could make it there before they caught up to her...

She dialed 911 on her cell phone as she ran. The operator answered on the fifth ring, hearing only the bartender's plea for help before the line went dead.
__________

It took the better part of a week for the prosecutor to get the appropriate paperwork signed by the judge so they could exhume the body. Jane Anderson had been a wonderful woman. A great mom. A stellar teacher, loved by everyone who knew her.

Everyone, except her husband.

It was the perfect crime. No one would suspect that the geeky accountant would hook up with the construction foreman to plot the murder. It had gone off so smoothly.

The police were baffled for years. But then that nosy bitch's family got in the way, again. They somehow convinced the police to reopen the case, investigate some new angle and they were going to find his DNA on the body, unless he found a way to stop the truth from surfacing...

______________

The prosecutor marched the order to the cemetary, where the heavy equipment necessary to dig up the coffin was already waiting. She delivered the paperwork to the funeral directory and his attorney. Once they had the all-clear, the machines went to work.

The coffin slid slowly from the ground. Everyone braced themselves as the lid was lifted. They were shocked at what waited for them inside.

Instead of Jane's corpse, they found Tim's.

Shot through the forehead, with a wound that looked fresh. The gun lay on his chest. Forensic testing would reveal that this gun was, in fact, the same one which killed Jane exactly three years ago.

Was Tim the killer? Was it someone else? How did his body get into the coffin and what the hell happened to Jane's?

The crumpled note inside Tim's pocket said it all... "I guess you'll never know."

Is it February yet?

How do you keep yourself sane when everyone around you is losing their minds?

Our big case is going to trial in 2 weeks. I have literally 20 briefs to write this week. In my free time, I have to manage a team of 7 people to take sure that they're all doing what they need to be doing, at the standard of near perfection, and keep my boss from committing homicide every time anyone dares enter his office...

Every time there's a chance for something to go wrong in this case, it does. The latest example? The judge decided on Friday that my client's employee can be called as an expert witness for the other side against his will. Isn't that nice? So we've reached this level of insanity in this case... The plaintiff can't contact this guy, because he's employed by my client. I can't contact the guy, because despite being my client's employee, he's been deemed an expert for the plaintiff. Try explaining THAT decision to the client...

Anyway, in trying to keep everyone else sane, I feel like I'm losing my mind...

My boss can't focus on all the 9 million little details because he's so focused on the big picture, so it's all falling to me. Sure... every 5th year associate knows EXACTLY how to prep this case for trial without any direction whatsoever! No problem... lay it on me. Whatever makes your life easier.

I've pulled 7 people off all their other work so they can prep this trial with me. I can barely keep track of what I still need to accomplish, but I have to figure out what they're all doing, keep them stocked with work, and make sure everything is being done right. In so many ways, it'd just be easier if I did it myself. In the middle of the chaos, I have to deal with them coming into my office on a daily basis venting about the case. I try to keep them calm with food and liquor. And the knowledge that after this is all over, we'll all have enough hours banked that we can take a very long vacation without needing to worry about making up the time. Who the hell knows if it's working for them.

Hardest though, is keeping the client in check. He doesn't understand at all how this can be happening. They designed a great building for an extremely demanding client who still hasn't paid them for all the work they did. The case hasn't been going well for the plaintiff. We've destroyed their experts. We significantly weakened their bullshit contract claims.

Now the case has become a fraudulent conspiracy to rip off the poor, unsophisticated plaintiff. A bank. Let me ask - does ANYONE feel bad for banks these days? Nah. I didn't think so.

But in trying to explain this to the client, I have to throw all my legal training out the window. Forget about trying to logically reason my way through this. I've had to resort to talking to them like this to describe the case... at least when put this way, the case sounds as absolutely ridiculous as it is: Oh come on! You're a fucking liar and thief! Trial counsel's an asshole who doesn't give a shit about family. And I'm a goddamn serial perjurer! Don't forget that you're so scared of this piddly little case that you dropped a few mill to BUY the plaintiff's expert. (Oh yes, those really are the types of allegations being hurled around in this case.)

"But why, Jaime? Why are they doing this to me?" They repeatedly asked.

When the legal answers my boss tried to offer didn't go anywhere, I let loose with the only answer I could think of: Because the homeowners are suing them for about 10 million dollars. Whatever doesn't come out of your pocket is coming out of yours. This has nothing to do with you!

It's a small joy to see the light bulb click on before they say in a thick accent, "Those fucking bastards!" So that's how I get them to focus on hitting the bank where it hurts - their wallet.

Two weeks left.

February can't come fast enough. Now you'll have to excuse me. I need a drink. And a nap. Though not necessarily in that order.

Unspoken

Snow fell gently outside, coating the trees and causing the world to sparkle in the moonlight. The fire crackled in the fireplace. Candles twinkled around the room.

They lay on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. Drinks stood forgotten on the table. She tilted her head back and kissed him, deep and long. With a sigh, she returned her head to its favorite spot against his shoulder. Her fingers traced lazy circles on his thigh. He pulled her back into the kiss, tasting the sweetness of the champagne on her lips. She savored the smoke and tart merlot on his.

They paused briefly to watch the clock strike midnight and the ball drop. "Happy new year," he whispered, nuzzling against her neck.

She grabbed his hand, leading him where they both wanted to go. At the foot of the stairs, she backed him into the wall. Her eyes burned into him, seeing through the thick haze of lust to his very core. The sound of him moan her name unhinged her and she crushed her mouth against his.

She fisted his hair, ensuring his mouth would remain locked to hers. Each step toward the bedroom was agony as the passion built to the point of pain. As they traversed the steps, articles of clothing fell to the floor, landing in a haphazard polka dot pattern on the floor.

Her lips were puffy and red when his mouth left hers. His eyes sparkled as he took her in. His gaze was like a hand running the length of her body. She bit her lip nervously, hoping that she measured up to his fantasy.

She lay back against the pillows, eyes closed in blissful anticipation. She soon felt his weight on top of her. Her eyes snapped open. When he pressed his mouth against hers, everything else went hazy.

His hands found hers, interlaced with her fingers and pinned her arms above her head. She needed to be taken, claimed by him. Her body ached for it.

She groaned when his mouth hit her neck. Gently at first. Then with more intensity. His tongue flicked the spot on her neck that sent an electric jolt through her. Her hips bucked and she began to move against him, feeling the hard length of him pressed against her hip.

His teeth nipped her shoulder. Pleasure and pain swirled together, chasing each other up. His hands, mouth, tongue roamed her body freely. The minute he touched her, she was under his spell. No one made her feel this way - desired, desirable and completely free. No matter the circumstances, it always felt right. There was nothing she couldn't say or do, no fantasy that would go unfulfilled.

His hands slid down her torso, slipping her skirt over her hips, leaving just the tiniest wisp of silk between them. She inhaled sharply when she felt his mouth make its way over her thigh. His teeth grazed her hip as he removed the red fabric with his mouth.

Smiling up at him, she saw herself reflected back in his eyes. As he lowered himself to her, she cupped her hands around his face, opening her mouth to say the words she had always longed to say to him...

...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...

The alarm startled her out of her dream. Clutching the blankets around her, the words "I love you" still were on her lips. Maybe tomorrow night she would have the chance to actually say them out loud.

____________

Yeah... It was a cheap take on the theme... Check out some real polka dot stories here.

Return of Random

Okay... So it's been a long time since I've done the Random Tuesday Thoughts thing. And since I'm severely lacking in time these days nor can I think of anything to write about for this week's polka dot theme for Thursday, it's time to write some randomness...

I was watching "Empire Records" the other day. Andrew was sitting on my lap, totally entranced by the scene where Liv Tyler starts stripping off her clothes for Rex... And he busts out with "LET'S KISS!" We are in such trouble when he gets older! I mean, he's 2 and already declaring he wants to make out with Liv Tyler? I suppose he has decent taste... She is hot after all.

I think I need to move. It's too freaking cold! So I either need to go somewhere warm (Hawaii sounds nice right about now) or I need to head back up to the great white north. See, in New England no one bitches about the cold. It's always cold. You get used to it. And you don't want to be the only one complaining about it.

My mailman hates me. It's not my fault that I'm busy... Too busy to check my mail on a daily basis. Okay... I'm lucky if I remember to check it once a week. So the mailman has to shove about a week and a half of junk mail at a pop in my mailbox. Maybe he can just go the extra step and throw the junk mail away for me without my needing to look at it. I mean, if given a choice, I will wear my most faded jeans and an old law school sweatshirt. Do I sound like someone who needs catalogs from every clothing company known to man?

And I know my name is relatively gender neutral... But let's get something straight. If you aren't smart enough to know that I'm female, I don't want your freaking product. I don't care if you have the best product in the universe. This Jaime is not a Spanish man. I'm not registered for the draft. I don't have to be, thank you very much. I don't care how much Uncle Sam wants me...

I got called for jury duty this week. What's the point? No one wants a lawyer on their jury. Can't we just exempt me preemptively? The scary part is that there are MAJOR trials being picked right now. A little 4 month construction case. Six murder trials which will run 3 weeks a pop. We're prepping for a major trial, so right now my boss starts getting twitchy if I'm not in my office for longer than a lunch break - he'll go nuts if I actually get put on a panel.

Actually, he called the assignment judge and begged for me to be excused from jury duty. Supposedly I'm all clear and excused. But I have this nagging suspicion that after I don't show up on Wednesday, some sheriff's officer is going to come knocking on my door trying to arrest me for skipping out on my civic obligation. That'd be just my luck!

I tried cooking over the weekend. You see that I used the word "try" here. Because it didn't turn out very well. I followed a damn recipe and everything. Maybe I should just give up and order pizza and Chinese the rest of the week. It's hard to ruin food that someone else prepares and I only have to warm in the microwave...

Sound like a good plan?

new year

2010 started off quietly. I was in a house full of people and the only one awake at midnight to watch the ball drop. With no one to kiss or wish happy new year, I thought briefly about the dreaded new years resolution.

And here is what I decided: I am NOT going to make any resolutions.

Why? Because I never keep any of them anyway. What's the point in setting myself up for failure and disappointment?

I could tell you that I'm going to lose 40 pounds.
Or run a 10k.
Take more time off.
Not work as hard.
Cook more.
Stress out less.
Write a book.
Finish my vampire series.
Spend more time with hubby and Andrew.
And dazzle you all with brilliant, well-written, fascinating posts every day.

Yeah...who am I kidding. If I manage to get through the next month, I'll have considered it a successful year! My big construction case is coming up for trial and I'm in charge of getting the thing ready. So virtually every waking moment between now and January 25 are going to be spent in construction hell.

Don't let the whining fool you. By now, you know I like to be busy. To some extent, I thrive off the pressure and deadlines. But there's a difference between busy and insane... I've hopped right over busy directly into insanity overdrive.

I'll get through it. I always do. And I'll make my boss look brilliant. Maybe I'll even get some credit for it at the end of the day.

For now, I raise my glass to all of you and wish you a new year filled of...whatever good things you're looking for.

Love?
Happiness?
Health?
Wealth?
Crazy drunken sex with a hot stranger you meet in a bar?

Who am I to judge... ;)