Scrooged by Vi Keeland

Chet

I decided to play a little chicken.

Remember that game? Two drivers careening down the road on the path for a head-on collision. One had to jump out of the way to avoid being run over, which one was generally decided by who had the biggest balls.

“Mr. Saint?” My assistant Lydia buzzed into my office. “Your three o’clock appointment is here.”

“Great. Give me five minutes and then show him in.”

I cleared the scattered papers of another client’s file from my desk and pulled a manila folder from my drawer—my own personal bank statements. Today, I’d definitely have the biggest balls in the room. Though sometimes, on rare occasions, neither party swerved, and a collision just became unavoidable. I thumbed through the folder and turned a few of the top pages over so that the name on the account wasn’t visible.

Lydia knocked and opened my door right on time. I stood and buttoned my jacket before coming around my desk.

Rex Adams strolled into my office like he owned the place.

Was he always such an arrogant fuck?

I flashed a practiced, very insincere smile and offered my hand. “Rex. Good to see you. I’m glad you could make it today.”

He grumbled. “Three o’clock on a damn Friday. Traffic is terrible.”

“Sorry. That’s all I had available.” Well, except for this morning at ten, and yesterday at eleven, twelve, or one o’clock, and the day before at, well, practically anytime. It was almost Christmas; it wasn’t like clients were beating down the door to meet with their divorce attorney. But, I guess I must’ve forgotten to mention those other available times when I’d called Rex and told him we had to get together before our court appearance next week. Ooops. My bad. Sue me.

“Please, have a seat.” I motioned to the guest chairs and then lifted a leg to sit on the corner of my desk casually. Position meant a lot during a negotiation. It wasn’t a coincidence that I was looking down my nose at Mr. Adams this afternoon. After straightening my tie, I picked up the file with my bank statements from my desk and held it in my hand.

“While we were running a search of possible undisclosed accounts in your wife’s name, our team came across another account. This information just recently came to me.” I held one side of the folder tight and fanned it so he couldn’t read the contents, but could see enough to know that bank statements were inside.

“My wife had another account? I knew that bitch was hiding something.”

My jaw flexed. “No, this was an account in your name.”

“What account?”

“Well, I suppose it’s the one you hadn’t told me about.” I crossed my arms and readied myself for what might be the biggest bluff of my career. One that could backfire right in my damn face. “It looks like it was funded from withdrawals transferred from a mutual fund of some sort.”

Rex didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised. “Oh. That. The Banco Popular account. That’s not in my name. It’s in Maribel’s name. I’m just the beneficiary.”

My brows drew together. “I’m sorry. Who’s Maribel?”

“My girl.”

“Oh. I see. So this is a new account opened after you moved out of the marital home, then?”

“No. We opened it about two years ago. But like I said, it’s not in my name.”

What a piece of shit.

I tucked the folder behind me on the desk and folded my hands—mostly to keep from punching this asshole. “We failed to list it on your asset disclosure list that we prepared to file next week,” I said matter of factly.

“I’m a beneficiary of a foreign bank account. We don’t have to list it.”

I had to stifle my laugh. “That’s not how it works. We’re required to list all contingent assets, as well as current assets.”

He shifted in his seat. “Just pretend you didn’t see it, then.”

That’s exactly the request I’d been banking on this douche making. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Rex’s face turned pink from anger.

“Because that would be subordinating fraudulent conduct. It’s a violation of ethics.”

He jumped up out of his seat and leaned toward me. “But you’re a goddamned lawyer!”

I stood. And my six foot two stood a hell of a lot taller than his five foot eight, or whatever the hell he was. “Are you implying that lawyers are unethical?”

He backed up his aggression a bit. “Look. You can’t mention that account.”

I walked around my desk and sat in my chair. My job was done. Now it was just a matter of whether I fired him or he fired me. It didn’t matter to me one way or the other.

I leaned back into my chair feeling a hell of a lot more relaxed. Though Rex was now sitting on the edge of his looking anxious.

“My hands are tied here. Since I know about the account, I can’t submit your asset list to the judge and suborn fraud on the court.”

“That’s bullshit! Your job is to protect my interests.”

I held up my hands. “I’m sorry. Either you add the account to your schedule of assets before submitting it to the court, or I won’t be able to submit it for you.”

“Then, you’re fired.”

Bingo!

Merry freaking Christmas to me.

There was just one more small thing I needed to do before I left for the holidays. I’d already prepped a Motion to Withdraw as Rex Adam’s counsel and handed it off to my paralegal to get filed. After signing into my bank to make sure that my year-end bonus check had cleared, I decided that since giving myself gifts was so much fun, I was going to give myself one more. Taking a stroll down the senior partner hallway, I knocked on the door of the only one in this week—Milton Fleming. I wasn’t a fan of his. The few times I’d been invited to executive outings—usually because I had the best golf handicap in the firm—all he did was talk shit about the other associates and which paralegals he’d like to bend over the copy machine.

“Chester. Come on in. How’s the golf game going these days?”

Well, it’s December in New York, so the courses were pretty much frozen and covered in snow. But I’d play along anyway. “Great. Just great.”

“How can I help you?”

I walked to his desk and extended an envelope to him. He reached out and took it.

“I’m giving you my resignation. I’ve really enjoyed the last five years here at Fleming, O’Shea and Leads, but it’s time for me to move on.”

His big, bushy brows dipped inward and met in the middle. I never noticed before, but they looked like two fuzzy caterpillars trying to mate. “Is this a matter of money? Were you not happy with your year-end bonus?”

“No, the bonus was fine. Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m just ready to go out on my own.”

“Have you already informed your clients?” It was common practice for lawyers to tell their clients before their firm to try to sway them to leave with them when they left.

I shook my head. “Nope. They’re all yours.”

“This is rather sudden. I thought you were happy here.”

I almost laughed at that. How the hell would he know if I was happy? It’s not like he’d ever asked. “It’s nothing personal.” I pointed to the envelope. “I wrote I’d stay on through year end. But I’m flexible if you want me to stay on a little longer.”

Milton sighed. “Alright. I’ll let the other’s know. I’m sure they’ll be disappointed to hear the news.”

“Have a good holiday,” I said.

“Yeah, you, too.”

With all of my Christmas gifting done at work, I still had one more little plan I needed to set into motion. I locked up my office and headed for the front door while Googling Star Events.