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“Grey I’m just not sure I can make a legal document with those exact specifications.” Ward Everett was not the Everett of Everett, Estabrook & Eisen; but Ward Everett was Eloise Everett’s eldest son and a damn fine lawyer in his own right despite being one of the youngest the firm had on staff. He’d competed for the position with some spectacular candidates and had been assured he hadn’t won the spot on account of his mother running the place. He couldn’t be sure of that, but he conducted himself as though he had earned his place and continued to earn it daily.
His client, his richest client, was Grey Delaney; a kid he’d grown up around and whose best friend was Ward’s younger brother Phelan. Grey Delaney was a good get as a client. He had no illusions about how he’d won him as a client—he was a friend of the family and Grey counted on Ward’s absolute discretion.
When Delaney was starting college Ward had just finished law school and passed the bar. Grey approached him, said something about wanting his ‘own’ lawyer and not one affiliated with his parents or the Calder brand. Ward had agreed. It was a nice arrangement. He liked Grey well enough. Didn’t trust him much, but, then, he didn’t have to. What mattered was that Grey trusted him.
“What’s the problem?” Grey helped himself to a faceted tumbler and some ice from Ward’s modest sideboard. Ward didn’t drink much, but all the offices at Everett, Estabrook & Eisen boasted classy little sideboards, built-in wet bars and sleek, expensive furnishings.
“Well to begin with a prenuptial agreement is prohibited from addressing custody issues—“
“There’s no custody issue.” Grey replied, spinning a bottle of a blended whiskey contemplatively.
Ward leaned forward in his seat and re-examined the hand written bullet list scrawled on yellow lined paper. “Ok, not specifically, but I gotta be honest, a lot of this revolves around a child and that’s a murky area.”
Grey looked over at him sharply. “Why?”
“Anything regarding a child has to be decided in the child’s best interests.” He replied, staring thoughtfully at the original art piece he’d recently purchased from the new gallery downtown. It had cost a lot of money. He wasn’t sure he liked it as much in here as he had in the gallery.
Grey snorted. “There’s nothing not in the child’s best interest there.” He said sourly. “Kid’s going to be a fucking millionare before he starts kindergarten.” He pushed the blend away dismissively.
“Well strictly speaking these things aren’t meant to address offspring really.” He rubbed his brow and re-read the bullet list for what felt like the eightieth time. “I mean, I suppose it doesn’t directly address custody in the event of divorce…” He thought he might be able to structure it carefully enough to sidestep the rules but remain within the bounds of the law. “And this, this seven years thing?” he gestured to an item on the page before him.
“What about it?” Asked Grey levelly.
“Well I suppose I could build in a sunset clause but I have to say it’s highly unusual to, well, to put a definite end date on a marriage.” What the hell had his client gotten himself into?
“Well build-in whatever you have to.” Said Grey conclusively and turned back to the liquor.
“I have a nice gin.” Ward offered. He didn’t really know that from firsthand experience, not caring for the taste of gin, but he’d been informed of such by almost every client that had perused the sideboard.
Grey directed his attention to the gin and sighed. “That is good gin.” He conceded but didn’t reach for it. “Christmas present?” He asked, reaching for the single-malt.
“Birthday.” Ward answered. “You’ve already put ice in the glass—“ he said warningly.
“Fuck.” Grey responded mildly. “Gin then.” He replaced the single malt and reached for the gin. Ward wondered at the logic; Why not simply grab a fresh tumbler, or dump the ice? Outwardly Grey appeared casual, confident and collected. But something was definitely amiss.
“I have to ask whether or not you’re being coerced.” Ward said, standing and moving toward the wet bar. He opened the artfully concealed minifridge and withdrew a small bottle of tonic for Grey and a bottle of water for himself.
“No lime?” Grey asked as he unscrewed the top of the tonic water.
“It’s not exactly gin&tonic season.” Ward answered with a smile.
“Then why the fuck are you pushing the goddamn Gin?” Grey asked with an almost-smile.
“I’m not the one who put ice in the glass my friend.” Ward moved to sit on the long slim-line couch and took a drink from his water bottle.
“I wanted a scotch on the rocks but I can’t drink that shit you have, and you’re right, that single malt has to be neat.” Grey stirred the contents of his glass with his middle finger and sat down on the sideboard, his long legs stretched out casually before him. He removed his finger and sucked it before flicking excess moisture off it and lifting the glass for a sip.
“How is it?” Ward asked, smirking.
“Needs a lime.” Grey responded and set the glass on the sideboard beside him. Ward’s lips pressed together. There were chairs, plenty of fine chairs, and Grey Delaney chose to seat himself on the $15,000.00 mid-century modern sideboard. There were designer beverage coasters a mere six inches from his hand but Grey Delaney opted to place his sweating tumbler directly on the unprotected surface of said sideboard.
“I have to ask it.” Ward sighed. “Because this deal is a lot nicer for the lady than it is for you my friend.” Ward took another swig of his spring water. “It almost borders on unconscionable.”
Grey pulled his features into something like a wolfish smile. “Do I look like I’m being coerced?”
Ward entertained the notion. His client appeared at ease, very much his arrogant self. But something just didn’t feel quite right.
“I can draw up a pre-marital contract that follows those instructions pretty close to the letter if that’s what you really want—“
“It is.” Said Grey solemnly.
Ward shook his head and made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Well Grey either you love this girl very much or she’s blackmailing you.” Grey kept his eyes of his shoes. “I don’t know the girl, but I do know you and I’m guessing you haven’t been struck by cupid’s arrow.”
Grey chuckled and took another sip of his gin drink. “Maybe I’m just a really generous fellow.” He said and smiled at his shoes.
Ward leaned back on the couch, extended both his arms out over the low back of it and put his feet up on the coffee table. “I’ll see what I can do for you.” He said with a wry twist in his voice. “The amount of money you’re going to be putting into college educations here, we ought to establish a scholarship fund in your name or something.”
Grey ran a hand through his hair and finished the gin & tonic with one long swallow. “You do whatever you have to do Everett—“ Grey told Ward casually. “Just have it done tonight and tell me where to sign.” He walked his glass over to the wet bar and set it down on the counter.
Ward blinked. “Tonight?” it was already almost two in the afternoon.
Grey nodded firmly. “Yeah I’m under a bit of a time crunch.”
“Grey this isn’t exactly boiler-plate stuff here—“
“I need it ready tonight.” Grey reiterated a little coldly. “We’re meeting with the lady and her attorney to go over the fine print.”
“Christ, Grey!” Ward sat up, taking his feet off the coffee table and screwing the cap back on his water bottle. “I have plans this evening.”
Grey fixed him with a frosty glare. “I’ll pay you triple whatever you’d usually get for this type of service.”
It wasn’t about the money it was about the principle of the thing. He wasn’t Grey Delaney’s servant for Christ’s sake. But Ward simply nodded in acquiescence. He’d have to cancel another dinner with Gideon. Damn. This would be the third cancellation in the span of two weeks. He doubted Gideon could be persuaded to wait for him at his condo, maybe have a very late dinner, maybe spend the evening in the hot tub. He’d try.
He felt like punching the arrogant sonofabitch, kick him for throwing a wrench in his plans. “What time are we meeting them?” He asked stoically. “And where?”
“Eight.” Replied Grey, “Here.”
Ward bit back the expletive that had leapt to his tongue. “I’m going to bill a lot of overtime hours.” He said, rising and making his way back to his desk.
“Naturally.” Said Grey, and even though Ward was too angry to look he could tell the miserable son of a bitch was grinning.
“You’re a pain in the ass.” Ward said, sinking into his desk chair and pulling himself toward the damned yellow-lined piece of paper.
Grey started for the door with a chuckle. “See you at eight.” He said as he pulled on the handle.
Ward couldn’t even manage a polite smile. He nodded and kept his mouth shut.
Grey stood half out of the office and then leaned back in, a smirk pulling his mouth to one side. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
Ward stared for a moment. “No.” He said, shifting his gaze dismissively toward his computer screen and pulling his keyboard into a more comfortable position.
Grey gave a short laugh and exited.
Ward cursed loudly and set to work.
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