Legal Briefs (Lawyers in Love) (7 page)

Monday when I got home from work. I saw the new neighbor coming out of his apartment. To my surprise, he made eye contact with me and smiled.

“Hi there, Dan McGuire, 404. Nice to meet you,” he said, approaching me. I shook his outstretched hand and smiled back.

“Lily Adler, 401. Likewise,” I answered pleasantly.

“Hey, have you had problems with the lock on the front door?”

“Yeah, it sticks and you have to jiggle the key. I’ve been telling the landlord about it. This is a rough neighborhood and we shouldn’t have to stand out on the street like that at night.”

“Well, at least you have some friends in law enforcement. That guy you were with the other night’s a prosecutor, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he is. Do you know him?” I wondered, uncomfortably, if he had also met Adam in a professional capacity, like Mr. Viagra on the first floor.

“No, I heard you mention it the other night, and I think I may have seen him in the criminal courts building. I’ve been there on job related stuff.” He smiled. “Well, see you around.”

“Right.” I nodded and he walked past, whistling as he headed for the stairs. Before I could get the deadbolts open on my door, Herb poked his head out of his apartment.

“Hey, there, Lily! How was your day?” he asked with a big smile.

“Fine, Herb. How was yours?” I inquired politely and mentally prepared myself for the Philadelphia mass transit update.

“Oh, it was a rough one!” He sighed, shaking his head. “There was a breakdown on the R5 Malvern line and passengers had to disembark by jumping off the back of the train. It was a pretty windy day, and there were some very unhappy female passengers in skirts, I’ll tell you.”

“Sorry to hear it. Hey, that new guy in 404 seems nice.” I was hoping that maybe Herb would befriend him and strike up conversations with him more often.

“Oh, Dan McGuire? He seems nice, but I think he’s a little odd.” Herb gave me a conspiratorial look. “Do you know anything about him?”

“Odd?” He was kidding, right? “Um, no. I’ve never met him before. He just introduced himself now.”

“Did I hear him say that your friend from the other night was a lawyer?”

“Adam? Yeah, he’s an assistant district attorney.” Just in case Herb might have a crush on me, I thought it a convenient time to cool it. “He and I actually decided to go on a date after all.”

“Oh really? Well, that’s great! Has he recognized any criminals in our building?” he asked, sounding nervous. I didn’t want to upset him over a geriatric booty caller, so I decided not to mention Mr. Davis and his Viagra joyride.

“No. He was just here to see me and no … no criminals.” I smiled.

“Phew! Well, that’s good to know. I don’t know if you were aware, but there’s a lot of crime in this area, even supposedly some Mafioso types,” he said in a whisper, like he were sharing a big secret that that there were mobsters in South Philly.

“Oh, well. I’m careful. I just mind my own business, you know.”

“Good plan. You can never go wrong minding your own business.” I was surprised to hear the shadow of an almost menacing tone in his voice. Clearly, I needed to eat something before my brain stopped working.

“Uh, well, I’m going to go in now. I haven’t had anything to eat since noon and …”

“Oh go ahead! We’ll chat soon.” With that he ducked back inside and shut his door. At least he was friendly. It could be worse. I could live one floor down with Vixen, Donna and the Sopranos.

As I unlocked my door, I wondered how a seemingly normal person like Dan McGuire had wound up living in this building. I went into my apartment and began my nightly routine, flipping on my lights, hanging up my coat, closing the drapes, changing my clothes, making a quick dinner and switching on the local news.

A reporter was talking about the Moretti mob trial. They flashed to a picture I recognized, assistant U.S. attorney, Jacob Sachs. Jacob and I had dated for a while back in law school. He had dark good looks and a ton of cocky swagger. That is, he looked a lot like Adam. The two of them could be brothers. At twenty-nine, Jacob was young to be a federal prosecutor. It attested to his intelligence and his confidence. He had both in abundance. Especially the confidence.

I couldn’t concentrate on what they were saying, so I just checked my email, and then turned my attention to the ‘red hot’ book I was writing. After I put in a few hours of work on it, I shut down my computer for the night. I thought briefly about how long it had been since I had looked forward to the weekend so much, and smiling, I headed off to bed where I broke out the Acqua di Gio and my big girl toy for inspiration. Even erotic romance novelists had to do research.

The rest of that week seemed to drag. It didn’t help that Bruce had taken it upon himself to give me dating and relationship advice. By Wednesday afternoon, I was harboring homicidal thoughts, but he didn’t seem to notice. If he reminded me one more time about the importance of moisturizing nightly, I was going to throw him down an elevator shaft. I must have some really shitty karma.

Thursday evening when I schlepped myself, mentally exhausted, back to my apartment and checked my mailbox, I saw that a letter for my friendly neighbor, R. Nardo, had been stuck in my box by mistake. I had a feeling that R. Nardo and I would never find ourselves sitting around trading gossip over coffee. I didn’t really care, though, since I didn’t really feel like socializing with any of my neighbors. This was a very strange building. It turned out the R. on his mailbox stood for Ray, incidentally.

I considered just leaving the letter on top of his box, but then I figured that since he lived right next door, I should maybe just slide it under his door. I climbed the four flights of stairs and walked to 402, R. Nardo’s apartment. I was just about to bend down and slide the letter underneath when the door swung open, nearly giving me a stroke. I got pins and needles in all my limbs and my heart pounded like a jackhammer. I glanced up and saw R. Nardo standing there staring directly at me. Up close, I could see that he was a tall, gaunt, swarthy-looking guy with coal-black eyes and a pockmarked face. What a looker.

“Um, I got this in my mailbox by mistake. I live next door.” I held out the letter. He reached out and took it and without a word closed the door in my face. What a dickhead. I should have just left it on top of the mailbox — or in the trash chute.

I walked back to my door and dug out my keys. I was about to open it when U. Hu climbed in through a window, carrying a camera. We were on the fourth floor and there was no fire escape by that window. What, was he out on the ledge snapping pictures of the alley? He darted past me without a word and entered his own apartment, shutting the door with a bang. At that, R. Nardo’s door suddenly flew open. He looked around and seeing me, slammed it again. Adam was right; I had to get out of this place.

The next day I wore a stylish, cream-colored knit dress that hugged my curves and ended just above my knee. I also wore my brown leather knee-high boots with the four-inch heels. It was one of my favorite outfits. I put my long wavy hair up into a high ponytail and did my make-up carefully. How ironic that I was going through all this trouble for a guy who I had once accused of having as much sex appeal as damp socks. The morning was busy enough to keep me distracted, but I was nervous and fidgety all afternoon and Bruce, as usual, wasn’t exactly helping.

“You’ll be hungry. Eat something so that your stomach doesn’t sound like a garbage disposal. You’ll
need
to eat something so you don’t get falling down drunk later anyway. For God’s sake, just don’t get ketchup on that dress or food stuck in your teeth or anything.”

“Is this advice or are you still working through your anger at not having gotten that Malibu Barbie for your eleventh birthday?” The generous tips from Bruce, the romance guru, kept rolling in.

“If he gives you the smoldering look, like the one he gave you at the club, make sure you don’t glare back at him like he just stole your parking space. Okay, see? You’re glaring. Just so you’re aware.”

By six o’clock, I was standing at the punch bowl, with Jane, the head librarian, and Rochelle, her sidekick, who were busy discussing recipes for turkey stuffing and a method of making ‘completely adorable’ centerpieces for the Thanksgiving table out of toilet paper rolls and construction paper. Bruce was distracted, texting Jason about what romantic surprises he had in store for him later.

I stood there, following his advice, munching on salty nachos and saltier cocktail weenies, washing them down with copious amounts of fruit punch. At least the punch didn’t taste like week-old Kool-Aid. In fact, it was pretty tasty, and I quickly downed about half the bowl by myself to avoid turning into human salt lick.

Jane made a whispered comment at one point about her husband always wanting ‘fellatio’. Jane derived her entire sexual vocabulary from her sixth grade health class. I imagined her in the throes of passion screaming, “Insert your penis into my vagina more forcefully. I’m going to achieve orgasm!” I snorted with laughter and backed into a table, knocking over a stack of cups. I cracked myself up sometimes. Bruce finally looked up from his sexting and stared at me and then glanced at the punch bowl, first in a confused, and then a worried, and then an ‘oh shit’ way. He quickly came over and pulled me off to a corner away from everyone else.

“Lily, sweetie, how much punch did you have?” he asked with a smile.

“A lot. You told me to eat and everything here is salty. Why?”

“Okay, now don’t get mad at me …”

“I hate it when you start sentences like that.”

“Because I didn’t want you to be nervous, I figured I would add a little nip tip to it.”

“How little?”

“A bottle of spiced rum.”

“Oh my God!”

“And a bottle of cinnamon schnapps.”

“What?! Bruce, I drank half of the fucking bowl! I don’t feel drunk though.”

“It hasn’t been that long. It’s probably just hitting you now.”

“Oh great, I drank it fast too. Shit. You had better just take me home to sleep it off.”

“You can’t leave! Your boy is expecting you to socialize with him. It’s only six-thirty. You’ll have plenty of time to sober up. Just sit there quietly and smile until you do.”

“You had better at least warn my friends.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll explain to them what happened and ask them to just keep an eye on you until your head clears. They’re definitely going to be here, right?”

“Yeah, I spoke to Gab and Jess this morning. In fact, they should be here by now.” I was starting to feel woozy and my words were a little slurred. “You’ve met them. You know what they look like. Go tell them.”

“Fine, I’ll just mention you got a little drunk …”

“Because you convinced me to eat salty food and then spiked the punch without telling me. Not to mention you were too busy sexting to notice me chugging it!”

“Now, there’s no need for finger pointing. Just pull yourself together and try to look sober.” With that bit of sage advice, he went off in search of Gab and Jess.

I straightened my skirt, shoved a few loose tendrils of hair behind my ears, stood up straight and attempted to appear and act as sober as possible. Bruce came back in accompanied by Gab and Jess who were looking at me like they thought they might find me dancing on a table.