“How about it?”
Lord sat back in his chair, lit a fresh cigarette and blew precise rings
to the ceiling. He picked at his lip and chuckled to himself.
“Something funny, Sandy?”
“I was just now thinking how you probably got a kick out of people like
me when you were in law school. Thinking how you were never going to be
like me. Gonna go defend illegal aliens wanting political asylum or do
death row appeals for poor sonofabitches who’ve butchered a few too many
people and blamed it on getting spanked by their momma when they were
bad. Now come on, tell the truth, you did that, didn’t you?”
Jack loosened his tie, took a sip of beer. He had seen Lord in action
before. He smelled a setup.
“You’re one of the best lawyers around, Sandy, everybody says so.”
“Shit, I haven’t practiced law in years.”
“Whatever works for you.”
“What works for you, Jack?”
Jack felt a slight but perceptible clinch in his gut as he heard his
name pass through Lord’s lips. It suggested a coming intimacy that had
startled him, despite Jack’s knowledge of its inevitability. Partner?
Jack took a breath and shrugged.
“Who knows what they want to be when they grow up?”
“But see you are grown up, Jack, and it’s time to pay the man at the
door. So what’s it gonna be?”
“I’m not following this.”
Lord leaned in again, hands clenched, like a heavyweight pressing the
exchange, looking for the tiniest opening. Indeed, for a moment, an
attack seemed imminent. Jack tensed.
“You think I’m an asshole don’t you?”
Jack picked up his menu again. “Recommend anything?”
“Come on, kid, you think I’m a greedy, egocentric, powerhappy asshole
who doesn’t give a shit about anything or anybody that can’t do
something for me. Ain’t that right, Jack!” Lord’s voice was rising, his
thick body half out of his chair.
He pushed Jack’s menu back down to the table.
Jack nervously scanned the room, but no one seemed to be paying
attention, which meant every word of the exchange was being carefully
absorbed and dissected. Lord’s red eyes focused directly on Jack’s,
pulling them to him.
“I am, you know. That’s exactly what I am, Jack.”
Lord settled back in his chair, triumphant. He grinned.
Jack felt inclined to smile in spite of the repulsiveness.
Jack relaxed a notch. Almost as if sensing that slight release, Lord
slid his chair over next to Jack’s, -crowding him.
For a moment Jack seriously contemplated decking the older man–enough
was enough.
“That’s right, I’m all those things, Jack, all those things and more,
much more. But you know what, Jack? That’s who I am. I don’t try to
disguise it or explain it. Every sonofabitch that has ever met me has
come away knowing exactly who and what I was. I believe in what I do.
There’s no bullshit there.” Lord took a deep breath, and then slowly let
it out. Jack shook his head, trying to clear it.
“What about you, Jack?”
“What about me?”
“Who are you, Jack? What do you believe in, if anything?”
“I’ve got twelve years of Catholic school, I’ve got to believe in
something.”
Lord shook his head wearily. “You’re disappointing me. I heard you were
a bright kid. Either my reports are wrong, or you’ve got that
shit-eating grin on your face because you’re afraid of what you might
say.”
Jack grasped Lord’s wrist in a viselike grip.
“What the fuck do you want from me?”
Lord smiled and gently tapped Jack’s hand until the grip was released.
“You like these kinds of places? With Baldwin as a client you’ll be
eating in places like this until your arteries are hard as drill bits.
In about forty years, you’ll keel over in some sand trap in the
Caribbean and leave behind some young and suddenly rich
third-time-around honey; but you’ll die happy, believe me.”
“One place is the same as another to me.”
Lord’s hand came down hard on the table. This time several heads did
turn. The maitre d’ glanced in their direction, trying to conceal his
apprehension behind his thick mustache and quiet air of competence.