Page 1 of King of Justice

one

Stuck

Sophie

“Sof, you’re still here!” my colleague Zoey remarked with a high pitch as she stepped out of her meeting. How observant.

I took my eyes off the screen and saw that she was looking at me like I was naked or something. I couldn’t help but titter. “Well, I need to send the final version to Paddelton & Minsk before they go on their break and forget who we are.” Pointing at the meeting room, I shrugged. “And Mr. Nichols is still in there, too.” I watched our other colleagues leave, one by one, greeting us as they walked out the door.

“With who?” She put her hand on her waist and turned to look outside through the closed widow. “There was a storm warning? You guys should hurry before you get stuck here all weekend.”

I shrugged, turning my eyes back to the document I was editing. “It couldn’t wait. You can’t make this up. He’s finally in there with Nathan Wright. Looks like he’s gonna handle the McFadden case pro bono, after all.” I glanced at her. “Sweet, huh?”

Gathering her things, she put on her coat. “Sweet?” She scoffed. “I heard he’s legit hot.”

“That’s all you got from what I said?” I giggled, shaking my head. “Feel free to take a peek through the door,” I joked, although I wouldn’t put it past her.

“Nah.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and grabbed her laptop case. “I’d rather go home to Billy. We’re spending Christmas with his parents this time.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve never met them, and when I do, it’s for a whole week. Pray for me!”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Right, you don’t do Jesus.” She waved a hand at me. “I don’t know why they bother giving you a break on his birthday.”

I forged my best puppy dog eyes. “Because I never get to see my parents?”

“You’d better run then!” She approached the door.

Sighing, I shook my head. “I should be at JFK at seven o’clock. I’m all packed and ready.”

“Aww, Paris.” She tilted her head, hugging her laptop case tighter. “Say hi to Mama and Papa for me. And yummy Silvain.”

“Will do! Merry Christmas, babe. It’s gonna be fun.”

Opening the door, she threw her hand in the air. “Merry Christmas. Zoey… out!”

Looking at the time, I figured I had an hour tops to leave if I wanted to catch the flight for which my parents had paid for. Every year since they had retired and bought their apartment in Paris, I’d been visiting them every Christmas on their buck. And every single time, I’d pushed my luck by leaving the office awfully late.

“No rest for the wicked,” I mumbled to myself as I scrolled down to the next page of the document I had typed up. It was a case for one of the independent artists against a famous clothing chain. They had used one of his graffiti designs on their t-shirts—and sold out in a week—without permission or even offering him a cut of the profits.

Crazy? It happens every day in our world.

That was why I absolutely loved working for Creators’ Rights—this small NGO helping struggling artists get free legal advice for their work. Although I wasn’t a lawyer, I managed to use my writing skills for the greater good. I was hoping that one day, I may be able to find a decent publisher who would agree to put my creative work out there.

But Sof… shouldn’t you finish that novel first?

Shaking off the thought, Zoey’s advice from earlier found its way into my head instead. Launching the internet browser, I punched in the flight information and checked if it was still on. The airline website said that it should leave on time. My gaze then traveled to the meeting room door.

That lawyer drove himself here from New York.

The sole heir and rightful owner of The Wright Law Firm was known to take on plenty of pro bono cases as a way to give back, just like his father had. Despite my general contempt toward lawyers, I knew I could learn to respect this one. He’d never taken any of our cases until my boss, Mr. Nichols, met him at a benefit and introduced himself, opening a new support channel for our less fortunate friends in the creative arts.

Tearing through the silence, my landline started ringing, and the little digital screen showed that the call was coming from the meeting room. Right. We were the only ones left in the office. I pressed the speaker button. “Hello?”

“Ms. Jones,” Mr. Nichols said, “Would you please join us with your laptop?”

“Uh—Sure. Right away.”

I hit the ‘save’ button on my document and stood up, taking the device with me as I walked there. After knocking on the door, I opened it and stepped inside.

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