Winner Takes All

[Biker-Bo]

"Your 4:00 is here, Mr. Howard." The intercom buzzed, interrupting his reverie. Clay Howard, Attorney at law, had been staring out the window of his office, out into the parking lot where his Mustang sat. The top was down, and the gleaming black '67 seemed to be beckoning him. Bought at an auction just a few days prior, it had been his lone extravagance since starting his law firm three years prior. There stood one more client between him and his new baby, which had been garaged since its purchase as he tended to the details, getting it insured, registered, and waiting for the rain to clear out. She was cherry, factory original and worth more than the new BMWs and Benzes his peers drove. Howard sighed, and pushed the button at the bottom of his desk phone.

""Thank you, Madge." Madge was his office manager, and she seemed to have materialized out of nowhere when he started the firm. She just showed up one day, a dowdy, prim and proper septuagenarian that knew everything and everyone in the profession. She had shown up, resume and references in hand, as he was supervising the decoration of his new office, just two days after the lease had been signed, and been there ever since. Apparently she had worked at the now defunct advertising agency that occupied the office up to a week prior, and not feeling like he had any choice in the matter, Howard hired her on the spot. The paint wasn't yet dry on the sign out front, but Madge took control of the front office, hiring a paralegal and a receptionist within a week, freeing Howard up to hustle for new business. She now presided over his staff of six paralegals, clerical workers, and receptionist. She was his bookkeeper, his marketing director, his gatekeeper, and at times, his best source of advice. Nothing got past her-ever. Howard took note of the tone in her voice indicating that she was less than pleased with his new client for some reason. "Soon, honeybunch." he whispered through the window at the Mustang, and straightened his tie, buttoned his collar, and opened his office door to meet his latest client.

Claire Markham had called him the day prior. She wanted to retain his services as her attorney in a divorce. Howard had recognized the name immediately. The Markhams were a prominent fixture in the upper crust society pages, founders and owners of Markham, Inc., a company that boasted several several subsidiary companies that included real estate, construction and development companies, Markham homes, a company specializing in high-priced homes, Markham properties, which owned and operated several high rise office buildings downtown; The Quay Marina, where there were Yachts bigger than most people's houses, and on and on. Howard had even interned in the corporate law offices of Markham inc. when he was in Law school. Without thinking it through, Howard had picked up the phone the day before. Yes, he told the curt, businesslike woman on the other end, he handled divorces, and no, he wasn't now or had ever been party to any lawsuits for or against the Markham empire. Conflict of interest was not a problem, he assured Claire, and yes, he could fit her in the next day after court.

Claire stood immediately as he opened the door. Without pleasantries or so much as a hello, she strode past him into his office and took a seat on the leather couch in front of the window. The ever proper Madge shook her head and pursed her lips, and Howard rolled his eyes and followed her in, leaving the door ajar. Howard sat in the wing-back chair opposite her, reached for a pen and a legal pad, and said simply "What is it we can do for you?" For some reason, he didn't offer a cup of coffee or tea, water, or anything else that would make this obstacle between him and his newfound love any more comfortable. Besides, by the slightly flushed look in her cheeks, she probably preferred vodka, a staple he didn't stock at the office. In her day, Mrs. Markham had been a stunning beauty, and at a distance, could still turn heads. Up close, however, the years of sun-drenched vacations and winter ski trips, coupled with a hefty socialite calendar had taken their toll. Hours in the gym had left her with a body that a twent-five year old could be proud of, and a trip to a plastic surgeon had endowed her with the C-cups to match. There was, however, an unnatural tightness to her face, a result of tiny tucks, botox injections, and collagen treatments. Howard would have bet the keys to his beloved Mustang that her cheekbones were implants. Claire Markham was about ten years from being a Joan Rivers-like caricature of her former beauty, Howard estimated. Everything about her screamed Bitch!.

"I want a divorce. For twenty five years, I have been all he could ask for in a wife, building a business, raising his children, sinking my entire inheritance into the company, and he repays me by running around behind my back with his- his secretary." She spat the words out as though secretaries were a lower form of life. She removed an envelope from her handbag and tossed it on the coffee table. Howard picked it up and thumbed through the photographs. There he was, the old silver haired fox, a tanned and trim fifty-something, portrayed in a number of settings, on a beach in one, on the deck of a boat in another, the balcony of a mountain A-frame chalet in yet another. Despite the different settings, the photographs had three things in common: The outdoors, a distinct lack of clothing, and a leggy brunette with which he was engaged in some form of sexual congress. Though some compression in perspective was evident due to the use of telephoto lenses, Howard concluded that the photographs were genuine and un-retouched, probably the work of a fairly good surveillance team. For a moment, Howard wondered why Madge never hired girls that looked like this.

"Ah, the great outdoors." He commented lamely.

"Excluding our corporate attorneys, which neither of us can retain, and Lawyers who are or who have engaged in lawsuits against or on behalf of Markham incorporated and for which representing either of us may present conflict of interest issues, there is a limited pool of competent attorneys available. My husband knows of my intent and has retained one of them, two others have declined to represent me, which leaves you." Ignoring whatever Howard may have felt about being third or fourth choice, she continued. "I'm prepared to pay whatever your going rate is, plus a premium of fifty percent over that. I am tired of traipsing around town looking for someone with the fortitude to represent me in what is, as one Lawyer put it, 'the mother of all divorce cases'. I'm told that you are honest, reasonably competent, and very meticulous about your work, and can be a very persuasive litigator in the courtroom." To punctuate her point, Claire removed from her Prada handbag a business envelope from which she extracted a tightly bound sheaf of bills. "Ten thousand dollars should be sufficient to retain your services." It was a statement, rather than a question.

Howard considered for a moment, and decided to let the 'reasonably cometent' remark slide without comment. The rich, he knew, viewed lawyers like any other skilled tradesman. He might as well have been a cabinet maker or a stonemason being contracted to remodel her poolhouse. the Markhams were a self-made empire. They married out of college, freshly minted MBAs in hand, and had built their empire from an inheritance left her by her father, a gentleman farmer who had once bred thoroughbred horses. That inheritance today wouldn't have even paid the maintenance and crew costs on their yacht. This was going to be a noisy, nasty, press frenzied, public spectacle of a divorce, he could feel it. Still, marital law was marital law, and Howard knew that it was fairly straightforward to apply the principles and letter of the law to whatever assets the couple were fighting over. He was adept at seeing through the drama and emotional issues involved, and getting a fair shake for his client. Normally, it was a task of negotiating a settlement with the other party, putting it into black and white, and getting both parties to sign. Marital property was the corpse the parties fought over. The basic drill was the same, whether it was fifty grand or as in this case closer to fifty million- Identify, freeze, divide, and collect. In some cases, you got alimony. At least this time, the children were grown, so there wouldn't be any nasty custody battles. Claire Markham didn't seem to be the type to wrangle over their pet Labrador or something silly. Still, the more they contested and fought, the more the lawyers got paid.

"Okay, Mrs Markham.-"

"Call me Claire. And I'll want my maiden name back as well- Cavanaugh."

"Okay, Claire, I'll represent you." Howard heard himself saying. Later, he would wonder if it was simply because he wanted to end the meeting and hop into the Mustang. "But I need you to understand, if I do represent you, it gets done my way. I'm the Lawyer. This is my specialty, and I do it well. Just as I'd place my trust in a doctor who was doing a surgical procedure, or a plumber who was fixing my sink, I need you to trust me to handle the legal end of things, and not try to take things into your own hands. Can we agree to that?"

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then she nodded. "I suppose."

"Good. I'll schedule an appointment with one of my staff members to collect from you a great deal of infomation- assets and debts, income history, and the like. Once they have done that, and I have taken the proper measures to identify and protect your interests with regard to marital property, I will assemble the required documentation to file for separation, and then work with your husband's attorney to arrive at a mutually acceptable separation agreement. Once the required time of separation has elapsed, I can file for a divorce, or your husband's attorney can."

"Very well. I know how these things work, Mr. Howard. Here is his attorney's card. She will be expecting your call." Howard glanced down at the card. For a moment, he froze, then, remembering that client confidence is important, tossed it onto the table as if it didn't matter. "Ill call her in the morning, Mrs.- um, Claire."

"See that you do." She abruptly stood, and he showed her to the door. Howard bet there was a Vodka martini somewhere with her name on it. He closed the door behind her and slumped into the chair, the Mustang all but forgotten. He picked up the card, and turned it over and over in his fingers.

Forester, Jones, Banes & Plant L.L.P
Lily Forester
Attorney at Law
((555) 358-3398​

Dammit. Why her? He'd faced Lily Forester one time, when he was a rookie associate at a larger firm, and she'd all but buried him and his client. They had been adversaries three or four other times, and Howard had yet to be able to pop a champagne cork to celebrate a victory. Even when her client had been the insurance company for dreadfully negligent and drunk cement truck driver who carried a million-dollar policy, Howard had only been able to obtain a minimal settlement for his client. Now, he was about to engage in a multi-million dollar divorce with the one lawyer in town that had most other attorneys in town begging for a settlement as soon as she filed a suit. Smooth, well-spoken, and smart, she could ply a jury or a judge with an artistic, almost hypnotic delivery, with a client that in all likelihood would want to take an aggressive run at the assets that Lily would be fighting to protect.

"Shit." He probably wouldn't be putting many miles on the Mustang in the near future.

 

[PersianKittie]

Lily Forester

“Yes, I see,” Lily rolled her eyes. She hung up after a brisk “thanks” and turned to her assistant, Jane. Tapping her fingers on the desk and looking through Jane, she said “well, the ice queen has finally secured representation.”

At thirty two, Lily Forester knew beyond her years. After losing her mother at 4, she had been raised by her father, Richard Forester, who had overseen almost every aspect of her raising and education. He had made sure that she had all it took to survive in this business. And when he had been ready to take vacations and romance ladies in exotic locations, he had handed her the helm. He had been comfortable selling her to the partners, particularly after she had had a series of wins – one of which had gotten a lot of attention in the press.

So far, Lily had proved her father right. She had outmaneuvered her adversaries in every case she had taken on. So, she had been expecting this call. She knew that there were very few people who would or could say no to Claire Markham. So, she had been ready when she got the call from Eli Markham who wanted reassurance that Forester, Jones, and the rest of the gang can handle my soon-to-be-ex wife’s attorney.

She was relieved, in fact, to get the call. Not that she had been worried about the case. No, she did not worry about things. She was not like all these women who would see as clients, worried about the house, about the kids, about this and that. She was raised by an intelligent, strong man. She handled things. She took care of the business. She had just wanted to know how ugly this case was going to get. And knowing that she was dealing with a firm that was more like a spring chicken was a relief.

Firms like Forester et al had resources that allowed them to drag this case on and on, postponing a settlement until the other side gave up. But, with this guy, what was his name? Howard, she knew that the case would be short and sweet. And that was perfectly fine with her. She was not particularly fond of Eli Markham with his roaming eyes and his attitude of entitlement. But, she had planned to spend two weeks with Sophia – her college roommate – in Paris in June when she was expecting her first baby. Lily was looking forward to Paris, Sophia, the baby, and being in a family.

Her mind returned to the case. “Ok, ok, enough day dreaming,” she muttered, and narrowed her eyes at the computer. She pulled her chestnut hair into a ponytail, and started putting down a list of information she wanted Jane to collect. As she reached for the phone to buzz her assistant, she realized Jane had been waiting by her desk with a patient smile.

Jane came from a big family – nine children. Her father had died in an accident while working in a glass factory. Watching her mother struggle to raise nine kids while the company went back to work as if nothing had happened, Jane had decided that she wanted to do something to ensure justice was served. She was the eldest of the nine, so the idea of going to law school was never entertained. But, she had done well in college, and had been able to convince Lily Forester, yes! Lily Forester, that she was worth giving her a chance. It probably had not hurt when Jane had mentioned that she was raised by a single parent, similarly to Lily.

Of course, having eight siblings had taught Jane patience. So she stood by Lily’s desk, smiling, “is that for me?”

Lily laughed. “Sorry, forgot you were still here. Yes, this is the information I need for the Markham case. Mostly straight forward asset information, though I need to know what the current status of Markham and the bimbo’s relation is. Thanks.”

As Jane turned to leave, Lily continued, “and by the way if Howard calls, yes, that’s her attorney, Clay Howard, anyways, if he calls tell him I am not in.” Jane winked, “you got it.”

Lily turned around and looked out the window of her office. She liked heights, and had been immensely pleased to be given her father’s office on the 17th floor. Looking at the city always gave her a sense of calm, maybe safety, a sense of belonging. She looked at the high-rise down the street with the bright blue sign on top: Markham. Her thoughts returned to the tanned face of Eli Markham with its wide smile that showed his bleached teeth. She could understand why he had looked elsewhere for some comfort. He seemed so social, flirtatious too, true, but social and warm nevertheless. It was easy for Lily to imagine that living with Claire Markham, whose exterior screamed uptight bitch, could be too hard for any normal person to survive – let alone a pleasure-seeker like Eli.

Here was another woman who complained and worried. Well, if you wanted him in your bed you should have done something to keep him there thought Lily. She was certain that she would not end like any of her clients, unhappily married, and worried about which bed some man spends his time. She shook her head, and suddenly felt bit nauseous. She closed her bourbon brown eyes and rubbed her forehead. She realized that a headache of outrageous proportions was approaching.

She walked over to the small conference table in the corner of her office and poured herself a glass of water from the sweaty pitcher. She, then, searched through her briefcase. She let the lid slam close and flinched at the noise. Looking through a couple of drawers and not finding any aspirin, she sighed, straightened her back, and walked out of her office. She knew that Jane always thought of everything.

“Yes, Mr. Howard, I assure you I will give Ms. Forester the message as soon as she returns to the office.” Jane tapped her nose with her finger, inviting Lily to silence. “No, sir, unfortunately I don’t know when.” Lily leaned against the desk, crossed her arms, and pretended to be examining her new Manolo Blahnik boots. “I will Mr. Howard. Good day, sir.” Jane said before hanging up.

Lily put some warmth into her smile and rose from the desk, “so he does not waste time, does he?” Jane shook her pretty red-haired head, “nope, he wanted to know when he should call to find you, and whether I could go ahead and schedule a meeting anyway.”

“Good, he is eager, that should make our job easier” she mused “now I remember why his name is familiar, he was on some drunk driving case a couple of years ago.” Lily rubbed her forehead again, “do you have anything to hold this headache back until I get home tonight?” Jane opened a drawer with bottles of Excedrin, Tylenol, and Midol, a box of Alka Seltzer, a tube of Airborne, and a box of tampons.

“I am fully prepared” She said as she opened the bottle of Excedrin and handed two caplets to Lily. Jane raised her eyebrow, “are you sure you want to stay the rest of the afternoon?” Lily blinked hard a few times as a sign of yes, while she swallowed the caplets with water. “This should take care of it” as she turned back towards her office she continued “besides, I have a meeting with Eli this afternoon.”

 

[Biker-Bo]

It was a boxing gym, primarily, though there were a handful of Martial arts instructors that rented space there to teach small classes. Howard despised modern gyms, with their eliptical trainers and stationary bikes parked in front of widescreen plasma tvs, bowflexes and pert little post adolescent "personal trainers." He preferred free weights to nautilus machines, a heavy bag to pilates balls, and his cardio consisted of three rounds with a sparring partner. Howard had boxed in high school and college, and proximity to this gym had played heavily in his decision to locate his office where it was. Lean and taunt at 6' tall and two hundred pounds, Howard often had to rely on his reach and speed to effectively match up against sparring partners that were shorter and more muscular. He had lost a step or two as he approached forty, but his caginess in the ring often enabled him to contend with younger and stronger "youngsters" in the ring. A good workout was just the thing to start the day with, and like clockwork, Howard was there from a quarter to seven to eight forty-five, three days a week. Following the workout, Howard took a quick, lukewarm shower, donned one of his better suits, a Charcoal grey Cardin that had set him back nearly seven hundred dollars, aa white shirt and a black and red striped tie that almost perfectly matched the paint and interior color scheme of the Mustang.

Two hours and three phone calls to Lily Foresters office later, Howard hung up the phone, and sat back in his chair. His staff had been busy all morning, and a two-inch thick file was already formed and occupying the center of his desk. Okay, here we go with the Big fish-little fish phone tag' routine. Howard mused, steepling his fingers and staring off into space. For some reason it irked him to no end when this happened. He as a one man law firm, and he got this shit nearly every time he went to bat against a firm with a lot of commas and ampersands in their name, ie. 'the law firm of Blah, blah blah, &blahblahblah & associates. For all the advantages of being his own boss, Howard often paid the price of dealing with opponents with vastly superior resources. When he had faced off with her before, Forester had buried him with a ton of pre-trial motions and then delays, then more motions, and a ton of discovery subpoenas. This had left him almost unable to get his own case together. A valuable lesson learned. With that in mind, he picked up his phone, and pressed Madge's extension. It pays to be underestimated. He thought.

"Yes?" Her firm, archaically polite tone reassured him. Madge was old school, refined and cultured as they come, yet tough as nails, and in a lot of ways, his rock. She knew the score, usually long before he did.

"I'll need the Tiger team for the Markham case, Madge" Howard said quietly.

"Of course you will, sir. They've been here since nine o'clock. They will be prepared to brief you on their preliminary findings and recommendations at one o'clock in the large conference room." Madge replied, "The necessary arrangements have been made." Howard knew by now that Madge wouldn't wait for him to arrive at painfully obvious conclusions like the fact that he would need help on this one. Howard also knew that if he hadn't called her, she would have called him, and informed him that the "tiger team" had been assembled and was waiting for him as if it had been his idea all along.

The Tiger team was his name for a group of free-lance paralegals, Law students, and investigators that Howard had pieced together over time just for such occasions. Some were eager, young, tireless and bright, others were seasoned old pros past the end of their full-time careers, but available to take on interesting cases to keep their hand in or break up the monotony of retirement. Ranging from bright to brilliant, the combination of young resume builders and wily professionals were a formidable force. They were his secret weapon, and of course, each and every one of them worshiped the venerable Madge as though she were the personification of God herself.

Howard knew that two staff members had been dispatched to Claire Markham's office to interview her again, and she had brought her accountant, and a very clear picture of the Markham financial picture, real estate and personal property profile. "Delegating is a beautiful thing." He said to noone in particular. He opened the already growing Markham case file to study what they had found so far. Most interesting was an antenuptual agreement where both parties agreed that in the event of a divorce, the Markhams' corporate legal department could not represent either party, but Markham Properties inc. would pay legal expenses for both parties. Of particular note was the fact that when the first of the Markham's corporate trusts were established, it was noted that it was an inheritance from the estate of Claire's father that provided the majority of the capitol. If the Newspapers were to be believed, it was Mr. Markham that called the shots around the ol' boardroom table, it was, in fact, Claire that was the Majority shareholder in Markham & Markham inc, the tippy top of the Markham corporate pyramid. Claire felt that since it was her money that started the company, she should not only keep the corporate share she already owned based on the charter of incorporation of Markham & Markham inc., She wanted a significant portion of the rest, and also wanted to keep the Mansion they lived in, the yacht along with the Quay Marina at which it was berthed, the Aspen vacation chalet and one of two Florida condos they owned. She also wanted to liquidate the nearly legendary collection of automobiles Eli had amassed and split the proceeds. Howard chalked off the yacht and the cars as assets that she wanted to take out of spite, and was inclined to consider the chalet in Aspen in the same category as well. Of course there were numerous pieces of art, jewelry, and furniture that she wanted to keep as well. In short, Claire wanted it all, and she wanted to fight over every scrap of it. In order to avaoid having their assets split evenly down the middle, she would have to - or rather Howard would have to- prove actionable grounds in an at-fault divorce case. Nasty, nasty business at best.

At noon, Howard made a few notes, then closed the file. He stood and stretched, and emerged from his office. "I'll be back by one." He announced to noone in particular. He noticed that the conference room door was open, and the table was strewn with papers, spreadsheets, and lawbooks. at the end was a basket that was rapidly filling up with neatly folded sheafs of papers wrapped in blue sheets of paper signifying them as pre-trial potions. on the front of the basket was a handmade placard that said simply "Operation hamstring" in orange and black felt-tip marker- one of the quirks the "tiger team" had developed." Howard could only guess what that meant, but he'd find out at the one o'clock breifing.

For now, he had a date with a convertible, an unseasonably warm day, and a chili dog or two.

 

[PersianKittie]

Jane slowly opened the door and peeked in. All the shades were drawn and Lily was no where to be found. Jane walked in, looked over the couch’s backseat, thinking that she must have been taking a nap. But, no, Lily was not there either. “Hello?” she said as she walked to the windows to open up the shades. Lily walked out of her office bathroom, water still dripping from her freshly splashed face.

“What now?” Lily said as she dried her face.

“Eli Markham called and left you a message,” Jane said as she opened the shades.

“Thank god he canceled. When does he want to reschedule?”

Jane shook her head. “He wants you to meet him at the baseball stadium in his box. He said he promises a good game and ‘maybe even a couple of chili dogs.’”

Lily paused drying her face mid-air. “This is not a funny joke, Jane. Get me a couple of more Excedrin’s please, and make sure we have lots of coffee during Eli’s visit.” She walked to her desk and sat behind it, staring at the monitor.
“I’m sorry,” Jane said as she finished up the shades, “anything I can do to help?”

“yes, call me a cab,” Lily took off the rubber band, releasing the pony tail, and rubbed her hair and skull, “I gotta get home and change.”

***

Lily walked into her apartment and was struck by how lovely the afternoon light looked. She was hardly ever here at this time. The maple floors reflected an orangey hue against the walls. The heat trapped in the place made it feel heavenly after walking in from the spring air. She left her briefcase by the door, threw her keys and shades on the table, and walked into her bedroom.

As she stood by her closet, she examined her face in the mirror. The nap in her office had left a crease on her cheek, which was still faintly visible. Involuntarily, her hand went to it and rubbed it absently. It reminded her of her father’s saying goodbye in the airport. He had caressed almost the same spot, saying that she should be having more fun in life, and that he did not want his life to be the model for her. Well, dad, I can be relaxed and have fun! You just watch! She thought to herself.

Lily pulled out a white cashmere turtleneck from a drawer, and grabbed her faded jeans that were on the bed. After she had changed to her “relaxed” clothes, she decided to keep her Blahnik boots on; she was still pleased that she had impulsively bought them. See, dad? I do have fun.

She picked a soft-shell briefcase and walked back to the entryway. After placing her notes for Markham’s case in the briefcase, she called the concierge. “Hey George,” she said as she looked in her closet for a coat. “Could you get me a cab? I am on my way downstairs.” She was looking at the coat that her father had given her last Christmas. It was a Burberry cashmere coat that he had ordered for her in winter-white. Lily had not worn it yet, and decided that it would be a nice touch with the jeans. She pulled it on as she walked out the door.

***

Lily pasted a smile on her face before opening the door to Eli’s box. He was a fine looking man, and his eyes’ sparkling at seeing her flattered her, against her wishes. He stood up, and approached her with his hand extended. “Lily! Could I call you Lily? Your father and I go way back.” He gave a hearty laugh as he took her hand. “Come here, I want you to meet a couple of people.”

Slightly irritated, Lily whispered in his ears, “I thought we were going to talk about your domestic issue.” Eli smiled, “We are, my dear.”

“This is Theo Giambelli, my head accountant,” he pointed with his head towards a tall, lanky man with dirty blond hair. He seemed not much older than Lily – maybe 5 years. He had piercing blue eyes that held Lily’s eyes as he smiled and took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss Forester. I have heard much about you.” She nodded, “Likewise, Mr Giambelli.” Before he let go of Lily’s hand, he held slightly longer than she was comfortable and said, “please, call me Theo.”

“And here is my most trusted advisor and friend, Bill Ashby,” Eli put his arm around the shoulder of the short man who had stood watching the game until that moment. As he turned, Lily saw that he was about the same age as Eli, but life had not been kind to him. There were deep groves on his forehead, around his eyes, and on the border of his ears and cheeks. He was balding in the front, and had only wisps of gray in the back. “Hello” was all he said as he nodded towards Lily.

“What would you like to drink?” Eli asked as he motioned her to take a seat.

“Water is fine,” she said, as she started to take off her coat. Theo came behind her and took the coat. “Mm, so soft,” and then in a whisper that made ants crawl Lily’s spine said “I bet it holds something even softer.”

Before Lily had time to decide what to do about Theo’s comment, Eli had sat down, “Theo and Bill are my confidants and form an important piece to the case.”

“Oh?” Lily took the water from the waiter. “How’s that?”

“Well, Claire has basically been a slut behind my back, even though she seemed like a mountain of ice every night. At least, I know why she had no warmth left over for me.”

Bill turned his attention to the game, as it was announced that the home team had 2 outs and the third batter was at 2-3. Lily had the uneasy feeling that Bill was only pretending to be into the game, and that his ears were all focused on what Eli was telling her. Theo who had handed her coat to one of the servers, was standing behind her; Lily could feel him watching her.

Lily cleared her throat, “and how do we know she has been, um, unfaithful?”

“Theo, here, has seen her fucking the help. The help! Of all people. Stupid bitch” He spat, his eyes darkening with anger. He looked up at Lily, his face immediately smoothing its edges, “Sorry, Lily.” And Lily decided that this was not a good time to point out that he had done a very similar thing to Claire.

“I understand,” she said gently. “Did she have that incident before or after she found out about your relationship with Ms. Cutter?”

Theo came from behind her, and took the armchair next to her. “Well, what I saw did not look like an “incident,” if you catch my drift,” he grinned.

Eli waved a server and handed his cocktail glass, simply tapping it to indicate another one was needed. “You sure you want to stick to water?” he raised his eyebrow.

Lily knew the game too well to bring up the fact that she had a headache and did not like to drink on the job. She was raised in the boys club. “Gin and tonic please, some ice, not too much,” she smiled at Eli. “atta girl!” he laughed.

By the time Lily had gotten the story out of Theo, she had finished her second cocktail, which had made the throbbing in her head to move behind her eyes and into her ears. Moreover, she had had Theo practically drooling on her lap as he told her his story. He had gone to the mansion to take some policies for Eli to sign. As he was waiting for Eli to arrive – he had been running late – he had decided to take a walk on the grounds. He had, accidentally, passed by the guest house. A small two bedroom cottage at the edge of the property for when the kids bring company, Eli had interjected. Theo had heard noises, and had peeked in to see Claire with her Tennis coach. Lily had had to interrupt a few times to get Theo back on track and away from telling them the details of the frolicking. Bill had not said a word the whole time, and Lily had wondered where he fit in this case.

“I want you to ruin her,” Eli slammed his glass on the table, “destroy her so all her goody two shoes friends know what a snake they have among them.”

Lily had to bite her tongue and take it all in. This was just an information gathering mission. She will have time to plan her strategy and talk to Eli without the creepy glances of Theo who seemed to want to eat her in one bite. Right now, she just wanted to get out of the stadium, get home, and drink a gallon of water to wash the alcohol out and give her body a chance to recover from the day.

 

[Biker-Bo]

Howard arrived back at the office at ten minutes before one, hair somewhat tousled from the wind, and a spot of chili on his tie. Operation hamstring was revealed to him at the 1 o'clock meeting.

The COnference room had taken on the air of a corporate 'war room'. Dry erase boards were filled with notes, timelines, facts and figures. No less than three paralegals sat at laptop computers, furiously filling out pre-formed legal proceedings from Howard's electronic library. One of Howard's uncles, a retired police detective, sat at a table in a corner, running a surveillance team that was going to be MEli Markham's constant companion for the next several weeks. Lily Forester was also being watched. The Tiger team felt that knowing what the other side was up to gave them a tremendous advantage, and 'sneak and peeps' were cheap, relatively speaking. Another duo of computer geeks combed through the database at Markham, Inc., downloading financial data and other files as fast as Claire's password would let them. THe team briefed him on their findings, and passed documents to him one at a time, discussing the strategy behind each one, as Howard requested corrections and then fixed his signature to each one before reviewing the next.

With Claire's slight majority ownership of the Markham holdings, bolstered by their current antenuptual agreement, she could effectively order the freezing of the corporate assets, blocking any transfer of funds unless agreed to by both parties. This meant the two lawyers would have to obtain written consent from the other for any major transfer of funds, large business transactions, purchases, sales, or big business deals. This suited Howard fine. That meant each transaction required a meeting between the Lawyers, and separate meetings with respective clients to get anything done. Meetings meant billable hours.

Their personal and marital property was another issue, hence the Tiger team's "Operation Hamstring". "Operation Hamstring" was a flurry of motions, writs and subpoenas that was designed to besiege the opposing attorney. Hidden deep in one of them was a clause that effectively blocked the sale or transfer of any marital property with a value in excess of a hundred dollars. If this stipulation went through, Eli Manning would not be able to move anything outside the reach of his soon-to-be ex-wife, and would also simplify the division of property. Simply buying a decent dinner with a jointly held credit card would result in disastrous consequences for the offending party. Claire had informed them that she had a substantial cash reserve of her own, something Eli was not likely to have. There were motions for discovery, requests for accounting of all expenditures in the last year from Mr. Markham's personal account, a request for review of their joint tax returns for the past seven years, subpoenas of his associates for depositions, and a host of other legal maneuvers that would, in essence, serve as a dizzying initial volley. Lily Forester would have her hands full responding to them, attempting to either contest or negotiate through the stipulations, that she would have little time or energy to initiate her own offensive. Twenty seven pre-trial motions, eleven subpoenas and the initial filing for divorce were already printed and ready to go to the courthouse for a time/date stamp. Copies were bundled for delivery to Forester's office, and one of the Tiger team had reported that Ms. Forester was in a meeting with Eli at the moment, but looked a little peaked, leaving her BMW in the office garage while taking a cab first to her residence then the stadium. Howard secretly wished that dealing with Eli Markham was as distasteful as dealing with Claire was.

At three, a runner was sent to the courthouse with a batch of legal filings, while another courier was vectored toward Lily Forester, "courtesy copies" in hand. While there was nothing courteous about dumping off a bunch of legal documents on someone as they ate lunch, or watered their lawn, or whatever they happened to be doing at the time, Howard knew the tactic would elicit an immediate response, something he was hoping for, since Ms. Forester, Esq. seemed to have an aversion to answering phone calls. At the moment, she was with Eli and his advisors, sipping cocktails in his luxury box during a spring training exhibition game being put on by the local semi-pro team- which the Markhams owned. Even though Eli had built not only the stadium but personally supervised the creation of the team that played in it, Howard knew that that particular plum would be one he would fight to keep.

At three forty five, he received confirmation that the documents had been delivered to Lily as she exited the stadium. At four, his phone rang. Madge picked it up, listended, and said curtly "One Moment please." She put the call on hold, and looked at him. "It's her." SHe said simply.

"Well, Mr. Howard...been busy already, I see." Her tone was frosty and impersonal.

"Well, I have had the case almost a full day. I was hoping to get as much done as quickly as possible-"

"Bullshit!" She cut him off. "It's not like you're the first lawyer to ever pull this shit on me. In fact, I think it was me who taught you this little trick."

"Might have been, Lily." Howard fought to keep the satisfied tone out of his voice. She sounded pissed.

"Unfortunately, it may backfire on you. Your lfiling on grounds of adultery may be a little bit of a blunder, considering your client's relationship with her tennis coach." She said, letting the statement hang in the air. Howard winced, and scribbled a note in large letters, holding it up for his team to look at. Tennis Coach?????

He took a deep breath. "Well, we'll see Lily. have your people call my people, we'll set up a meeting. Have a nice afternoon." He did his best to sound unconcerned. WIthout waiting for a goodbye, he hung up the phone. "Fuck! Get her on the phone."

 

[PersianKittie]

Lily was exhausted when she walked into the elevator that night. She had had some good news; the Martin case was done with, and with a better settlement than she thought the opposing side deserved, but less than what they had originally asked for. So, when she got the news of the 27 pre-trial motions from Howard’s firm, she was still a bit high from the earlier win.

She couldn’t lose ground though. She wanted to stay in the game; Howard was going to try to reflect the image that he was in control of the case. And she was going to play along. Yes, she would sound pissed and caught off-guard, she had decided. That way, the news of Claire and her Tennis coach would make a loud slap.

At that thought, she smiled as she sat behind the wheel. He had stayed calm, had pretended that he was in control of the case…we’ll set up a meeting, she chuckled at the memory, as she got out of the parking structure and rolled down her window.

She took a deep breath of the night’s air in. Her headache was retreating in, and she was planning on taking a hot bath, ordering in Chinese food, and eating in her bath robe. Something bugged her though. He made me return his call, that bastard, it suddenly occurred to her. She slapped the wheel. “He made me call him,” she smiled and shook her head.

***

Lily was soaking in the bathtub, when the phone rang. Her hair was piled up on her hair, she had her eyes closed and was thinking about how to make herself not think. She pretended that she was not hearing the phone, by gently pressing her eyes. The ringing stopped. Before she had had time to smile, it started ringing again. She took a dip and buried herself in the underwater silence. She kept her eyes shot and blew air out in a steady stream. When she resurfaced, the apartment was silent again. She smiled.

Her cell phone started barking. Her newest ring tone. She got out of the tube, and walked naked to the living room. Water and foam was dripping from her, the ends of the runaway hairs on her nape, her nipples, her finger tips; and her feet left wet marks on the maple floor, as she cursed under her breath “who the fuck?”

“What?” she flipped her phone. “Well, greetings to you too,” her dad sounded a bit wounded on the other end. “Dad!” Her features softened, “hold on one sec.” She walked back to the bathroom to get a towel.

She listened to her dad’s recount of his adventures in The Bahamas, and his telling her that life was too short to be spend working all the time. They went through their routine of her telling him that was exactly what he had done, and his telling her she was not a single dad raising a daughter alone. By the time she hung up, she was no longer interested in eating Chinese. She called for pizza.

She went through the notes that Jane had sent her home with. The antenuptual agreement was mainly to protect Claire, but Markham was no spring chicken. He had made sure that all bets were off if Claire cheated on him, which she had. This meant that while she financially was secured by having more shares than Eli, she could no longer control the assets of the Markham, Inc. Lily went through the list of their private holdings: the mansion where the family was based in early days, their downtown condo, the vineyard in Napa Valley, the yatch landing and house in Majorca, the ski cabin in St. Moritz; she stopped going through the list and raised her head. It suddenly occurred to her that Claire would go after the Baseball team; not because she cared about it, or the players, but simply because it was the joy of Eli’s life. She would have to lay out a clean strategy for this.

She would have to watch this Howard guy. She tried to remember what he looked like, but all she could muster was that he was not short. At 5 feet 8 inches, she was quite aware of the men around who she could not wear high heels, or those that she should wear them in order to intimidate them. She remembered that he had had warm features, but could not quite recall much more. She wrote an outline of the documents she wanted to review with her aid, Max, and emailed it to him and cced Jane.

She considered calling Howard’s office to leave a message for a meeting, but decided against it. She knew he would be working late tonight, but didn’t want him to know that she was. Also, she would have Jane call and make the appointment. Let him think that she had gone to bed with an easy mind and a satisfied smile on her face.

 

[Biker-Bo]

Howard was seething. Claire seemed to think that it wasn't a problem; and no matter what Howard said, she pooh-poohed him throughout the conversation. "It's not what he knows, dear, but what he can prove." She had said. "He doesn't have photographs. I do."

"Yeah, well he can call Romeo to he stand, live and in person, and get him to testify." Howard retorted. "We did some checking on your 'coach'. Romeo Mendez. Professional record in tennis, 0-0. Amateur? Same. No college record, either. Never played a match in his life. Pretty-boy Cubano a few years past his prime modeling days, prowling the Upper west side and the like, ostensibly teaching Tennis, or Golf, or hey, here's a good one, gardening to the overprivileged society dames. Last recorded employment before opening his "Leisure consulting" business was as a gardener. Trust me, if I can find this, you can bet Eli already has, and Lily Forester will squeeze his balls until he sings like the fifth dimension."

"Oh, I don't think so. Romeo can be very discreet. His reputation depends on it. He'll deny everything, just like he did for Sylvia Plattsburg." She sounded almost smug.

Howard rubbed his temples. He didn't know who Sylvia Plattsburg was, and he didn't care; but he was not about to suborn perjury, and he told Claire as much. Not only would it get him censured and possibly disbarred, it was a felony, and Howard wasn't about to lose his practice and risk jail time so Claire could keep the family jewels and super deluxe golf cart.

"If he proves infidelity on your part, your legal position is severely compromised. Romeo is nothing more than a high-priced gigolo, and that fact will come out in court." Howard continued. "At best, you have mutual grounds for divorce, and as your legal advisor, I am obligated to tell you that your antenuptual agreement, as well as your corporate charter entitles you to a fair and equitable division of marital assets, nothing more. That means half, period. Also, your corporate charter stipulates that under these conditions, either a no-fault or mutual fault divorce, you and your husband forfeit control of all but 32 percent of your voting shares of Markham inc., with the remaining 36% to be placed under control of a board of directors. These shares would then be offered on the stock exchange via IPO, and your little family business is now a publicly held company over which you or your husband no longer have control." He paused, realizing that he had more or less condensed hundreds of pages of legal documents into a short, thirty second monologue. He had no idea whether Claire understood, but he felt pretty sure Lily would, and short of some sort of legal miracle, would come to the same conclusion. "Now You and Eli can either come to grips with this fact now, and we can start working on specifics, such as who gets what and what constitutes a fair settlement; or if an agreement can't be arrived at, one side or the other can force a complete liquidation, under trust, and then you two split the proceeds." Get her to go for the settlement. He thought to himself, she'll be better off and so will he.

"I see." Her voice was flat, yet Howard could almost hear the shame and anger seething inside her, yet she sounded unconvinced. He decided to drive home another point. "What about that damned baseball tam?"

"You probably want to yank the baseball team out from under Eli, and you might be able to do that. It's not corporate property, actually. It's a separate entity. Apparently, Markham, inc. lent the money to a corporation Eli formed outside the Markham Inc. umbrella as a capital investment. If the books we have are correct, however, the team has not made any payments to the corporation, despite fairly large profits the past two years, which Eli took as income- income you both paid taxes on. Losses for the previous four years were similarly written off your personal joint return." Howard was now furiously scanning through the notes regarding assets. "Though, in my experience, when the marital estate includes assets that carry emotional attachment for one side than the other, it's better in the long run to leverage them to get something specific you want. In other words, hey, you get the boat and the baseball team, I want the paintings and the house in St. Moritz, or whatever."

"I see." she said again, clearly unsatisfied. Howard imagined that she was seeing her dream of crushing Eli Markham to dust vaporizing by the minute, and not liking it one bit. Tough cookies. Shoulda kept her hands off the 'tennis coach'. "What's the alternative?" Rich people always asked that, it seemed, when they didn't like the answer you were giving them. In this case, however, the law was the law.

"You and Eli can pay Lily Forester and I to conduct a long, protracted, highly sensational and very public divorce case that will ultimately end in a judge handing down a decision very similar to what I just described. The only difference is you spend a lot of time on page seven, below the fold, in gossip columns, and spend a lot of money on lawyers." And I can go get a companion for the Mustang...maybe even a Hemi Cuda.

"I'll let you know." She spat, and hung up.

Howard resisted the temptation to throw the phone across the room. He placed it in the cradle, and loosened his tie. He spent the next three hours poring over notes, catching up, making new ones. It was nearly nine when he decided enough was enough, and decided that what was in order was a bit of four-wheel therapy, some jazz, and a decent meal. He shut off the lights and left the office, locking the door and setting the alarm on his way out. A half-hour later, he was at home, a modest three bedroom ranch sitting on a little over an acre. He garaged the Mustang in his new four-car detached garage. One day, he hoped, the classic Ford would be joined by a few other specimens of the muscle car era, but for now, she had the garage all to herself. His other car, a decade-old Chevy blazer occupied the left side of the driveway.

Dinner was a beer, leftover lasagna, and another beer. For a nightcap, Howard pured himself a stiff three fingers of RIdgemont Reserve 1792 Bourbon over ice. On impulse, he went to the room in his house that served as a study/office, opened a file cabinet, and pulled the case file on the case he had faced Lily Forester on before. One item caught his eye. At some point, he had written down the coffee shop where she habitually stopped on her way to the office; on the ground floor of the building across the street from her office. She was in there like clockwork, at 7:15, buying a large coffee, a sun-dried tomato bagel with cream cheese, and a bottle of water. SHe drove in early to avoid rush hour traffic, She would sit in a corner table with a view of the street, and would read the paper from cover to cover, after discarding the comics, sales fliers and circulars, lifestyle and entertainment, and sports sections. These she would cull immediately and discard. The rest, she read cover to cover, and would occasionally tear out legal notices or articles that caught her eye. Once in a while, as with Howard, she would meet with another attorney over coffee prior to court that day. Howard closed the file, wondering why he had taken the time to scribble those notes. She had met with him to offer a settlement he had refused, only to be awarded a much smaller amount in court later that morning.

Draining the last of the Bourbon, Howard took a shower and turned in, after setting his alarm for 5:30. should be early enough to make it into the city. That place does serve up a pretty decent breakfast. As he drifted off to sleep, Howard wondered if she'd recognize him, and then contemplated how he'd feel if she did-or didn't. What struck him as strange, he realized, was that it did in fact matter for some reason.

At least, he could swipe her sports section.