that’s a shame.”
“Not really,” I say.
“How do you figure?”
“Well, if I worked with her and she liked guys but I never got with her, that could be depressing – you know, picturing her doing stuff with guys other than me. But this way…”
A light dawns in Steve’s eyes. “Free fantasy!”
“You got it,” I say. “Exactly. Like, if I picture her with some other girl, who am I hurting? Not even me.”
“I like the way you think, Johnny. Now about those season tickets. The Yankees? Opening Day?”
“Oh geez, you didn’t say it was for the Yankees,” I say, feeling relieved. Do I really want to go to any game with Steve Miller? “I’ll have to pass on that.”
“But they’re amazing seats!”
“I’m sure they are. But, you know. The Yankees .”
“I know, I know,” he says. “I wish it was for the Mets but they’re the firm’s tickets.”
“Well,” I say, “I guess you can’t control the taste of the people you do work for. Speaking of which, you working on any interesting cases lately?”
“Oh God.” He runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, making matters worse. “I’m working on a terrible case right now.”
“Tell me about it. What’s so terrible?”
“This young guy, maybe twenty, not his first offense, he’s going down on a whole mess of charges and I can’t think of any way to help him out.”
“What’d he do?”
“He got pulled over in a random check. The arresting officer’s looking over his license and registration – nothing wrong there – when suddenly he spots some tools in the backseat and decides to take a closer look. Turns out to be burglary tools, so the cop keeps looking, finds a few items in the trunk that sure look like stolen goods along with some marijuana in the glove compartment.”
“That’s rough,” I say.
“And how.”
“You’re telling me.” I say this, not because it necessarily makes sense for me to be the one saying it in this context but because it’s a guy thing to say, the kind of thing we guys say to each other to show support. I suspect it’s like sorority sisters jumping up and down and squealing when they see each other – minus the cheerful aspects, of course.
“The terrible thing is,” Steve goes on, “my client’s such a good guy.”
“Well, wait a second. If he committed armed robbery, maybe not such a good guy.”
“But that’s it. He wasn’t armed. And anyway, it’s burglary, not robbery.”
I’m tempted to hit myself in the forehead for saying something so stupid. Of course I understand the difference between robbery and burglary.
Steve continues about his client. “He just does these… things sometimes but he doesn’t even own a weapon. He doesn’t believe in violence.”
“OK, that is nice. And really, the marijuana charge? Why do we even charge people with that shit anymore?”
“I know, I know. But like I say, he’s going down this time, hard. He’s got those priors, and with the quantity of charges – ”
“Wait a second,” I say. “I read about this case.”
“You did?”
“Or maybe I saw something on the TV. One of the two. You say he was pulled over on a random check?”
“Yes, but – ”
“Was he speeding?”
“No, he was well below the limit, but – ”
“Was he driving erratically? Was there anything at all wrong with his car – a tire low on air, a taillight out, anything at all other than just a random check to cause the cop to pull him over?”
“No to everything. He hadn’t even smoked any of the pot in a long time, but – ”
“Oh my God, the vehicle itself wasn’t stolen, was it? Because if it was, I don’t think we can get Mr. Nice-Guy Burglar off.”
“No, it was his car. The license and registration all checked out. But – ”
“But nothing! This is so easy!”
Steve Miller practically drops his coffee mug. “It is ?”
“Yes! All you need to do is open up a can of constitutional whupp-ass on the D.A. and that
“Not really,” I say.
“How do you figure?”
“Well, if I worked with her and she liked guys but I never got with her, that could be depressing – you know, picturing her doing stuff with guys other than me. But this way…”
A light dawns in Steve’s eyes. “Free fantasy!”
“You got it,” I say. “Exactly. Like, if I picture her with some other girl, who am I hurting? Not even me.”
“I like the way you think, Johnny. Now about those season tickets. The Yankees? Opening Day?”
“Oh geez, you didn’t say it was for the Yankees,” I say, feeling relieved. Do I really want to go to any game with Steve Miller? “I’ll have to pass on that.”
“But they’re amazing seats!”
“I’m sure they are. But, you know. The Yankees .”
“I know, I know,” he says. “I wish it was for the Mets but they’re the firm’s tickets.”
“Well,” I say, “I guess you can’t control the taste of the people you do work for. Speaking of which, you working on any interesting cases lately?”
“Oh God.” He runs a hand through his already disheveled hair, making matters worse. “I’m working on a terrible case right now.”
“Tell me about it. What’s so terrible?”
“This young guy, maybe twenty, not his first offense, he’s going down on a whole mess of charges and I can’t think of any way to help him out.”
“What’d he do?”
“He got pulled over in a random check. The arresting officer’s looking over his license and registration – nothing wrong there – when suddenly he spots some tools in the backseat and decides to take a closer look. Turns out to be burglary tools, so the cop keeps looking, finds a few items in the trunk that sure look like stolen goods along with some marijuana in the glove compartment.”
“That’s rough,” I say.
“And how.”
“You’re telling me.” I say this, not because it necessarily makes sense for me to be the one saying it in this context but because it’s a guy thing to say, the kind of thing we guys say to each other to show support. I suspect it’s like sorority sisters jumping up and down and squealing when they see each other – minus the cheerful aspects, of course.
“The terrible thing is,” Steve goes on, “my client’s such a good guy.”
“Well, wait a second. If he committed armed robbery, maybe not such a good guy.”
“But that’s it. He wasn’t armed. And anyway, it’s burglary, not robbery.”
I’m tempted to hit myself in the forehead for saying something so stupid. Of course I understand the difference between robbery and burglary.
Steve continues about his client. “He just does these… things sometimes but he doesn’t even own a weapon. He doesn’t believe in violence.”
“OK, that is nice. And really, the marijuana charge? Why do we even charge people with that shit anymore?”
“I know, I know. But like I say, he’s going down this time, hard. He’s got those priors, and with the quantity of charges – ”
“Wait a second,” I say. “I read about this case.”
“You did?”
“Or maybe I saw something on the TV. One of the two. You say he was pulled over on a random check?”
“Yes, but – ”
“Was he speeding?”
“No, he was well below the limit, but – ”
“Was he driving erratically? Was there anything at all wrong with his car – a tire low on air, a taillight out, anything at all other than just a random check to cause the cop to pull him over?”
“No to everything. He hadn’t even smoked any of the pot in a long time, but – ”
“Oh my God, the vehicle itself wasn’t stolen, was it? Because if it was, I don’t think we can get Mr. Nice-Guy Burglar off.”
“No, it was his car. The license and registration all checked out. But – ”
“But nothing! This is so easy!”
Steve Miller practically drops his coffee mug. “It is ?”
“Yes! All you need to do is open up a can of constitutional whupp-ass on the D.A. and that
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