her family and circle of social and business acquaintances. People at
that level of sophistication apparently didn’t have mere friends they
hung with. Everyone served a particular function, the whole being
greater than the sum of the parts. Or at least that was the intent,
although Jack had his own opinion on the matter.
Industry and finance had been well represented, brandishing names Jack
read about in the Wall Street Journal before he chucked it for the
sports pages to see how the ‘Skins or Bullets were doing. The politicos
had been out in full force, scrounging future votes and current dollars.
The group was rounded out by the ubiquitous lawyers of which Jack was
one, the occasional doctor to show ties to the old ways and a couple of
public-interest types to demonstrate that the powers that he had
sympathy for the plight of the ordinary.
He finished the beer and flipped on the TV. His shoes came off, and the
forty-dollar patterned socks his fiance had bought for him were
carelessly flung over the back of the lamp shade.
Given time she’d have him in two-hundred-dollar braces with matching
hand-painted ties. Shit! Rubbing his toes, he seriously considered a
second beer. The TV tried but failed to hold his interest. He pushed his
thick, dark hair out of his eyes and focused for the thousandth time on
where his life was hurtling, seemingly with the speed of the space
shuttle.
Jennifer’s company limo had driven the two of them to her Northwest
Washington townhouse where Jack would probably move after the wedding;
she detested his place. The wedding was barely six months off,
apparently no time at all by a bride’s standards, and he was sitting
here having severe second thoughts.
Jennifer Ryce Baldwin possessed instant head-turning beauty to such a
degree that the women stared as often as the men. She was also smart and
accomplished, came from serious money and was intent on marrying Jack.
Her father ran one of the largest development companies in the country.
Shopping centers, office buildings, radio stations, entire subdivisions,
you name it, he was in it, and doing better than just about anyone else.
Her paternal great-grandfather was one of the original Midwest
manufacturing tycoons, and her mother’s family had once owned a large
chunk of downtown Boston. The gods had smiled early and often on
Jennifer Baldwin. There wasn’t one guy Jack knew who wasn’t jealous as
hell of him.
He squirmed in his chair and tried to rub a kink out of his shoulder. He
hadn’t worked out in a week. His six-foot-one body, even at thirty-two,
had the same hard edge it had enjoyed all through high school where he
was a man among boys in virtually every sport offered, and in college
where the competition was a lot rougher but where he still managed to
make first-string varsity as a heavyweight wrestler and first-team
All-Academic. That combination had gotten him into the University of
Virginia School of Law, where he made Law Review, graduated near the top
of his class and promptly settled down as a public defender in the
District of Columbia’s criminal justice system.
His classmates had all grabbed the big-firm option out of law school.
They had routinely called with phone numbers of psychiatrists who could
help coax him out of his insanity. He smiled and then went and grabbed
that second beer. The fridge was now empty.
Jack’s first year as a PD had been rough as he learned the ropes, losing
more than he won. As time went on, he graduated to the more serious
crimes. And as he poured every ounce of youthful energy, raw talent and
common sense he had into each of those cases, the tide began to turn.
And then he started kicking some serious ass in court.
He discovered he was a natural at the role, as talented at
cross-examination as he had been at throwing men much bigger than he
across a two-inch-thick mat. He was respected, liked as an attorney if
you could believe that.
Then he had met Jennifer at a Bar function. She was vice president of
development and marketing at Baldwin Enterprises. Dynamic in presence,