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be described as mutually suspicious. She was certain he was screwing off and costing the firm money. He was certain that she was a mole planted by the senior partners to make sure every employee spent every minute at work being utterly miserable.
    There was a stack of four boxes next to his desk. “That’s new,” he murmured. He read the note taped to the top.
    Please read and summarize—Stanton
    There must be six thousand pages in the boxes. He crumpled up the note and tossed it at the wastepaper basket by the door. As the wad of paper arced toward the can, the door flew open, knocking the paper onto the floor. Gordon Marshall bounded in like an enthusiastic Labrador, his dress shirt wrinkled and his tie askew.
    “Hey, where have you been?” he asked, taking a seat not in the chairs in front of Ben’s desk, but on the low oak bookcase against the wall. “I heard you got summoned to talk to Judge Kinsey. What the hell did you do?”  
    Ben dropped his briefcase on the desk. “She asked me to represent someone on a last-minute appearance. It wasn’t a big deal.”  
    “That’s not what I heard,” said Dave Hogan, entering the office behind Gordo and closing the door behind him. “I heard you represented Lindsey Fox on a contempt charge.”  
    “That’s right,” Ben said, giving Dave a small shake of his head. Not in front of Gordo , he tried to telegraph to his friend.  
    To his relief, Dave gave Ben a small knowing nod and smiled. “How did that go?”  
    The two men who had barged into his office were both lawyers at Stanton & Lowe, but they couldn’t have been more different—Gordo, stocky and bordering on rotund, with floppy hair that fell in his eyes no matter when his last haircut was, and Dave, trim, tall, and perpetually well-groomed thanks to his fashion-plate wife, Kathleen. Gordo joined the firm just out of law school and was now a third-year associate. Dave was a partner with fifteen years at Stanton & Lowe. They were the only two people in this building he liked, but Ben really didn’t want to talk about Lindsey’s legal problems with them. He was still trying to figure out exactly what her legal troubles were.  
    “It went fine,” Ben said, kicking a chair toward Gordo, who took the hint and removed his butt from the bookcase.  
    “Who’s Lindsey Fox?” Gordo asked, brushing his thick, brown hair from his eyes.  
    “Gordo, get a damn haircut,” Dave said. “Lindsey Fox is a newspaper reporter. And my wife’s best friend. Ben used to date her.”  
    “I just got a haircut,” Gordo complained, then turned to Ben. “You had a date? When? You’re always here.”
    Ben frowned at his friends, but especially at Dave. “We had one date. Six months ago. Not a big deal.”
    Dave laughed loudly. “Really? Not a big deal?”
    Gordo looked at both men expectantly. “What happened?”
    “It didn’t work out,” Ben said, then attempted a diversion. “Did you see this pile of bullshit Stanton dropped on me while I was out? How the hell does he expect me to get the last document review finished when he’s dumping this on me?”
    Dave wasn’t about to be deterred. “Kathleen set them up,” he said, looking at Gordo. “She thought they’d hit it off.”  
    “So, what happened?” Gordo asked.  
    “My car got towed,” Ben said.  
    “That sucks,” Gordo said with a sympathetic nod.  
    “And…” Dave prompted.  
    “And when I went back up to her apartment to use the phone, she pepper-sprayed me,” Ben said, resigned to the humiliation he knew was coming.  
    Gordo didn’t disappoint. His mouth dropped open. He glanced at Dave, a smile hovering on his lips, then back to Ben, then back to Dave.  
    “No,” he said. “Really?”
    Dave nodded. “It’s true.”  
    Gordo started to laugh—great peals of laughter that started deep in his belly and erupted into an expression of absolute joy. He leaned forward, gasping and trying to catch his breath, then fell out