An Equal Justice Read online

  “Yes, sir,” David replied. “Very much so. Thanks.”

  “Good. I want you to enjoy this treat. You’ve worked your ass off. This is just the beginning for you, so stick with me and keep it up.”

  Lyons had been using the phrase “stick with me” a lot with David over the past week—ever since he’d been moved next door to the partner. After becoming Lyons’s new guy, David had been tagging along with the partner damn near everywhere. Two nights ago, David had been sitting at a dinner table with Lyons and Senator Baskins. David could hardly believe it. Hell, only six months ago, he was still serving cheap beer to local college students while wearing a wrinkled T-shirt that was drenched in sweat. Now he was having dinner with a US senator. Life had changed a lot in a short amount of time. Earlier that week, he’d sat down in a hotel suite with a writer and a photographer from a popular local magazine for their upcoming “Austin’s Hottest Bachelors” issue. There would apparently be a big social media voting campaign centered on the magazine article. Melissa was treating the whole thing like she was trying to get David elected to Congress. The week had been even more exhausting than usual for him since he’d made good so far on his promise to Benny to stay off the pills.

  Across from him in the plane, Lyons was already getting tipsy. He’d downed several glasses of bourbon before they’d even lifted off. Lyons kept saying that David reminded him of himself thirty years ago. Lyons had also grown up with very little money. His father had been a cotton farmer who twice had lost his land before going completely bankrupt and turning to booze and women. His sweet old dad had put a bullet in his own head when Lyons was only twelve. Lyons had found him in the barn. Real nice. Lyons didn’t let it hold him back. He went on to put himself through college by selling kitchen knives door-to-door. After graduating with honors from the University of Houston, Lyons got into Harvard Law School. And so on and so forth. David had already heard most of this spiel a few times—usually late at night in Lyons’s office when the partner had already cracked open his wet bar.

  Lyons insisted that the huge weights that had been placed on both of their shoulders during their difficult youths were good things. They gave them an edge over everyone else. With most new attorneys hired at H&K, Lyons had to somehow yank the silver spoons out of their asses before he could get any real work out of them. But not guys like David. He and Lyons were cut from the same cloth. Hungry, determined, and absolutely ruthless. Lyons was so pleased that David was not afraid to stick the knife in deep and twist it. He insisted that quality was going to make David fabulously wealthy.

  The partner’s speech was already slurring—it was not yet ten in the morning.

  David stared out the window. Stick the knife in deep and twist it. That was probably why David had no real friends at the firm right now, other than his mentor. Thomas was the only guy who still talked to him on a friendly basis—although most of what he got from Thomas lately were words of cautious warning. Thomas mentioned that he, too, had been Lyons’s number-one guy many years ago. Until Thomas and Lori decided to have kids and screwed up everything. Thomas said that was a direct quote straight from the partner’s mouth. Thomas said his father had a wise saying: Be careful how close you dance with the devil.

  David reflected on those words as he gazed out the airplane window. He thought about what Nick had said just hours before hanging himself. Lyons will take your soul. His mind went back to the white-haired man whom his boss had just met with outside the plane. Who was that guy? He decided to probe a bit.

  “Were you as shocked as everyone else about Nick?” David asked.

  Lyons looked over, seemed to consider his words. “Frankly, no, I wasn’t. I always felt Nick was a bit weak.”

  “Was he a good lawyer?”

  “He was adequate. But that doesn’t get the job done at places like Hunter and Kellerman.”

  David recalled Nick’s other words. You should get out before you run into real trouble—like me.

  “Nick ever cause you any trouble?”

  “What’s with all the questions?”

  “Just trying to learn from the situation, that’s all.”

  “You’re not Nick, so don’t worry about it. He wasn’t built to handle the pressure of a big-money law firm like you and me. Unfortunately, it cost him his life. But let’s not spend time kicking a man who’s already in the grave, shall we?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  David pondered his boss’s choice of words. It cost him his life? Did he mean to say, it pushed Nick to take his own life? He stared back out the window, tried to set his mind on other matters. He thought about Benny and the boys in the Camp, as he often had over the past week. He hadn’t seen Benny since that night in the woods. But he’d seen Larue, the teenager with the cornrows, out on the sidewalk of Congress Avenue yesterday. David was tagging along to a power lunch with Lyons and another partner when Larue suddenly stepped out in front of them. David connected eyes with the teenager, who clearly recognized him.

  “Shep! Hey, man, it’s me, Larue, from the Camp. How you doing, man?”

  Lyons had given David a hard stare, clearly wondering why this black street kid in the dirty clothes was talking to their firm’s new star like they were old friends or something. David had felt caught in the awkward crosshairs. It was too late to act like he didn’t see Larue, as they were only a few feet apart; however, he buckled under the pressure of Lyons’s intense glare and brushed right past Larue without saying a word to him.

  When Larue had trailed them a little too close for comfort, still trying to get David’s attention, Lyons had turned around and threatened the young man. “Go beg somewhere else, you punk, before I call the police on you.”

  As they kept walking, David took a glance back. Larue just stood there like a family member had slapped him across the face in public. David felt like the biggest ass on the planet and immediately regretted his choice. He’d driven over to East Austin last night, trying to find his way back to the Camp so he could apologize to Larue. But he only got turned around in the confusing streets. And there was no way to call Benny to get directions, since the man didn’t own a phone. David hadn’t slept well last night—the memory of the brutal exchange with Larue running so vividly through his mind all night. He really wanted to make amends.

  “You ever saltwater-fish, David?”

  David turned back to Lyons, who had a fresh glass of bourbon in front of him.

  “No, sir.”

  “Eddie and I took this plane to Weipa, Australia, last summer. Best saltwater fishing on the planet. Fifty-five different species. Queenfish, barramundi, Spanish mackerel, you name it. That place was paradise. We’re headed to Marbella, Spain, this fall. Supposed to have the biggest red tuna you’ll ever see. And the best-looking babes. Hell, maybe we’ll take you with us. What do you think about that?”

  “Yes, sir, that’d be great.”

  “Then stick with me . . .”

  FIFTEEN

  They had lunch at Antoine’s in the heart of the French Quarter with their client Eddie Ornen, the sixty-year-old CEO whose company owned the jet, along with Turk Rogers, one of Ornen’s yes-man senior executives. Antoine’s served up a feast of center-cut tenderloin of beef with fried potatoes, Béarnaise sauce with sautéed mushrooms, grilled trout with crawfish tails in white wine sauce, and fried soft-shell crabs. The three older men also quickly downed two bottles of expensive French wine, the names of which David couldn’t pronounce.

  Afterward, they all jumped into a black limousine and rode over to Timberlane Country Club for eighteen pristine holes of golf on what David was told was the first private golf club on the west bank of the Mississippi River. David noted that nothing about any litigation matter was ever discussed. It was pretty clear that Lyons and Ornen were simply fishing and golf buddies, and this was a good excuse for them to spend Ornen’s company cash to jack around like old frat brothers. On the golf course, David played just well enough to not embarrass himself but not so well th
at he outclassed his boss—he was no dummy. There were several putts he’d missed to ensure that his boss beat him. Apparently, Lyons was no dummy, either, as he missed an easy four-footer on the eighteenth green to give his CEO buddy a one-shot victory on the day. They were then escorted over to the spa for massages and more drinking.

  At that point, David asked Lyons if he could step out for a few hours. David said he had a family member nearby that he’d like to visit, if that was okay with his boss. Lyons was already drunk, so he happily excused David. But the partner warned David to have his ass back on the plane by ten o’clock, as they were racing down the runway with or without him.

  David’s older sister, Brandy Lee, lived on the outskirts of Denham Springs, a small town of ten thousand near Baton Rouge. Brandy’s husband, Keith, coached eighth-grade football at Denham Springs Junior High. David had visited them only once before in Louisiana when their second son, Wyatt, was born. Wyatt was now three, and his older brother, Jackson, was five. Brandy had given up a low-paying teaching gig to stay at home and keep the two boys in line. His sister’s family lived in a three-bedroom double-wide on a dull acre of country land near a dirty pond. Although it wasn’t quite the dumpy RV trailer where they’d grown up, David considered it only a small step up. Brandy was still dirt-poor, with no real hope of ever climbing out.

  Pulling the rental car to a stop in the dirt driveway, David immediately spotted the two small boys tackling each other in the front yard. Jackson had a football in his hands while Wyatt tried to rip it away from him. They went at it like brothers should. Both boys had shaggy brown hair and looked a lot like David did when he was their age. David noted sadly that Jackson was about the same age he was when his father had died. The two boys looked over at him when he got out of the car. Then David immediately heard the familiar squeal of his big sister coming from the front porch.

  “David Marshall Adams! What are you doing here?”

  Brandy came rushing off the porch and nearly tackled him to the ground, a huge hug that felt better than anything he’d experienced in a long time. He stumbled backward, trying to keep his balance, and squeezed her right back. Brandy had thick black hair, freckles on her cheeks, and the biggest blue eyes that always danced when she spoke to him. Although she’d put on a few extra pounds since he’d last seen her, she was still the spitting image of their mother. She looked beautiful. The two of them had been close growing up. When their mother had died before his last year of high school, David had quickly spiraled off the deep end. He was ready to quit football, quit school, and quit life. When he’d started to get into real trouble, Brandy dropped out of college, moved home, and basically pulled him by his hair kicking and screaming through a dark season. She’d all but saved his life.

  “Hey, sis,” David said, grinning.

  Stepping back, Brandy examined him closely with both hands on his shoulders. “Let me look at you for a moment.” She frowned. “You’re not eating, Davey! I can tell. You look way too skinny. Don’t they feed you at that high-falutin’ law firm?”

  “Yes, they feed us well, believe me.”

  She couldn’t stop smiling at him. “Look at you in that fancy suit and all. Momma would be so proud of you. Such a big shot.”

  It was clear that living in Louisiana had done little to curb Brandy’s thick West Texas twang; if anything, it was stronger than ever, her accent now tinged with a touch of the bayou. She sounded like the queen of Hicksville. But hearing her voice was like wrapping himself in a warm blanket. Damn, he missed her so much.

  Turning to her kids, Brandy said, “Boys, get your little butts over here right now, and say hello to your uncle David. Don’t be rude.”

  Wyatt and Jackson came over, both giving him awkward hugs because they clearly didn’t know him too well. David had made little effort to be involved in their lives; he’d been so consumed by his own success. Brandy dismissed the boys, and they ran off again, trying to peg each other with the football the whole way.

  “They’ve grown up, sis,” David said.

  “Yeah, well, they tend to do that. Those boys eat like horses, I tell you what.” She turned back to David. “It’s so good to see you. Why didn’t you call first?”

  “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to make it out until now. I’m over in New Orleans meeting with a client today. I have only a brief window.”

  “I wish Keith was here. He’s mowing at the ball fields right now. He has to do dang near everything himself these days. How long will you be able to stay?”

  “Not long at all, I’m afraid. I have a plane to catch shortly.”

  “Well, all right. Then get over here and let me get you something to drink. I want to hear about every detail of your fancy new life.”

  They sat on the front porch in cheap lawn chairs. Brandy served him sweet tea from a plastic red cup. The two boys never stopped. They must’ve circled the double-wide twenty times already. Brandy said Wyatt was the future football star, like his uncle, which really made his older brother mad. Jackson was more of the bookish, creative type, like Brandy. He was learning to play the trumpet. They were good boys. Keith was doing well, too, Brandy mentioned. Her husband had a nice group of eighth graders this year. After two straight losing seasons, Keith thought they had a really good chance at a winning record. Her husband was also up for a promotion to the high school next year. The head varsity coach had told him he was all but a shoo-in to coach on the JV team. Brandy said they were praying really hard for it, because it would mean a $2,000 bump in his salary. They needed it really bad. The boys were getting so dang expensive. Jackson’s trumpet had cost them over $100. Could David believe that?

  Sitting there, David just smiled. He didn’t have the heart to tell his sister that the tenderloin he’d just eaten in New Orleans had cost more than that. Or that his new suit cost about the same as Keith’s potential bump in annual pay. He also knew better than to offer Brandy any of his new money—she’d be offended and throw it right back in his face. She was every bit as stubborn and prideful as their mother.

  “Anyway, enough about me,” Brandy said. “I want to hear all about your big-city life.”

  He shrugged. “Not much to tell, really, although it’s definitely a little different from living around here.”

  “I certainly hope so!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t study so hard at Stanford the past three years for nothing. So stop being modest. Tell me about the firm. Is working there everything you’ve always dreamed about?”

  “And then some,” he replied. “Hell, sis, I flew to New Orleans today on a thirty-eight-million-dollar private jet.”

  “Get out!” Brandy exclaimed, nearly flipping out of her lawn chair. “Are you serious?”

  He laughed. “I’m serious. We just ate lunch at Antoine’s in the French Quarter.”

  “I’ve seen that restaurant on TV.”

  “It’s very good, believe me.”

  “What about girls?” Brandy asked, switching gears. “Do you finally have a sweet girl in your life?”

  David pondered that question. Sweet was not exactly the word he’d use to describe the force that was Melissa Masters. “Yes, I’m seeing someone. Her name is Melissa.”

  “That’s great! Tell me about her. Is she someone you’d want to bring to Denham Springs to meet your big sister?” She gave him a skeptical head tilt. “Or someone who’d be comfortable sitting next to me in a church pew, David Marshall?”

  “Believe me, Melissa can hold her own in any environment. Although I probably won’t be bringing her to Denham Springs anytime soon.”

  She frowned. “Fine, I won’t push. For now. Are you having any fun in Austin? Do you have pics of your new condo? We only have an hour, David, so start spilling already!”

  David gave her a few more details about the firm, how nice everything was in the offices, how he’d recently been celebrated in front of everyone by the partners and then moved into an even bigger office a few weeks ago. He was definitely on the fast track with
the firm. He talked about the fancy dinners with senators, all the important functions he’d recently attended, and even his interview with a magazine for an upcoming profile. He shared pictures on his phone of his condo at the Austonian. He talked about the Range Rover. It was certainly easy to paint her a picture of a pretty glamorous life. Of course, he left out the part about the bottles of blue pills, how strung out he already felt, and how one of his colleagues had committed suicide recently because of job stress.

  When he paused, Brandy didn’t immediately insert herself again, like she’d been doing. This time, she just studied David with watchful eyes. He could tell something was brewing.

  “What?” he asked her.

  “You tell me.”

  “Tell you what?”

  “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “No. Why?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me, David. You know you could never lie to me and get away with it. So don’t try to do it now. Okay?”

  He sighed. “Give it a rest, Brandy.”

  “No, I won’t! Tell me what’s wrong.”

  David stared out toward the pond on the property. There was no use arguing with Brandy. She could be relentless in getting him to talk. She always used to force him to share his feelings when they were in grade school together, sometimes pinning him down on the floor of the trailer. She told him it wasn’t healthy for him to bury everything on the inside.

  He had to admit she was usually right.

  “I don’t know,” he began, exhaling deeply. “What if you worked for something your whole life—I mean, you busted your ass for it and overcame all kinds of obstacles—only when you finally achieved it, when you finally got there, what if it’s not what you really expected? What if it all starts to feel like some kind of big lie?”

  “Someone lied to you at the law firm?”

  He shook his head. “No, not exactly.”