he spoke. Mr. Swyteck, what exactly is your point?
Glad you asked, Mr. Chairman. We're here today arguing whether a homeowner can place a statue on his own property, the original of which is an undisputed masterpiece that stands in a museum and is seen by millions of people every year. And the reason for this feud is that one extremely wealthy neighbor might someday look out the back window of her ten-million-dollar waterfront estate and be offended. At the same time, we have an official state song about darkeys, and nobody says a word. Do you think maybe - just maybe - this might be a classic case of money talks and much ado about nothing?
Jack continued for several more minutes, and they seemed mildly intrigued by his creativity. In the end, however, Michelangelo himself couldn't have reshaped their sense of good taste and decency with a hammer and chisel. The statue was voted down twelve to zero. At least for the time being, Coral Gables would remain the City Beautiful.
Twenty minutes later, Jack and Theo were at the other end of Miracle Mile, laughing over a couple of beers at Houston's. The happy-hour crowd was just beginning to arrive, so there were still a few open stools at the bar. They drained the first round quickly, and then Theo ordered two more drafts.
Sorry you lost the case, said Theo. Still think my straw hat and a little Zippity Do Dah' could have made the difference.
Not that important, anyway.
Right. Sort of a pissant case for a hotshot lawyer like yourself, isn't it?
Jack selected a tortilla chip and gathered up some fresh salsa. William Bailey asked me to take it as a favor for one of his clients.
Theo made a face, clearly disapproving. William Bailey was the managing partner of Bailey, Benning, and Langer, Miami's oldest, largest, and most self-important law firm. It was no secret in the legal community that BB&L was looking for a real trial lawyer to head its litigation department.
They're getting their hooks in you, Jack buddy. Take a few cases, get to know their clients. Next thing you know, you got a nice corner office, two dozen young lawyers think Mr. Swyteck's shit don't stink, and your FYN is off the charts.
My FYN?
Your fuck-you number. The amount of money you need to have stashed away in order to walk up to the stuffed prick who signs your paycheck and say, Fuck you, buddy, I'm outta here.' Miami's highest FYN gots to be a partner at Bailey, Benning, and Langer.
I'm not selling out.
I hears you saying it, man. But you dance long enough with anybody, you end up begging for the pooty.
Theo was about to say more, then stopped, his gaze suddenly fixed toward the entrance. Jack turned to see a striking brunette walk toward the hostess. She wasn't dripping with sexuality like so many of south Florida's walking billboards for plastic surgery. She was captivating on a more intriguing level, dressed in a black Chanel suit with an open collar, only a hint of cleavage, the jacket cut just sharply enough to suggest that a pretty amazing body went along with that classic face.
Good, said Jack, she's here. That's the woman I wanted you to meet.
That's Mia? You're dating her?
Yeah. Better than eight weeks now.
For the first time in ten years, Theo was speechless.
What's wrong? said Jack.
You didn't tell me she was gorgeous.
Maybe I didn't think it was all that important.
Yeah, right. And maybe I'll be elected governor of Utah. How do you go two months seeing a woman like that and not give me an eyeful?
You always made excuses. I figured you had no interest in meeting her.
I just didn't want to have to pretend I liked some loser who'd probably end up dumping you anyway. But damn, Jack. Didn't know you had it in you.
Is it my imagination, or did you somehow manage to insult me thirty-six different ways in just three sentences?
No, man, it's a compliment. How old is she? Twenty-five?
Older than she looks. So don't look at me like I'm robbing the cradle.
Rob away. Got no problem with
Glad you asked, Mr. Chairman. We're here today arguing whether a homeowner can place a statue on his own property, the original of which is an undisputed masterpiece that stands in a museum and is seen by millions of people every year. And the reason for this feud is that one extremely wealthy neighbor might someday look out the back window of her ten-million-dollar waterfront estate and be offended. At the same time, we have an official state song about darkeys, and nobody says a word. Do you think maybe - just maybe - this might be a classic case of money talks and much ado about nothing?
Jack continued for several more minutes, and they seemed mildly intrigued by his creativity. In the end, however, Michelangelo himself couldn't have reshaped their sense of good taste and decency with a hammer and chisel. The statue was voted down twelve to zero. At least for the time being, Coral Gables would remain the City Beautiful.
Twenty minutes later, Jack and Theo were at the other end of Miracle Mile, laughing over a couple of beers at Houston's. The happy-hour crowd was just beginning to arrive, so there were still a few open stools at the bar. They drained the first round quickly, and then Theo ordered two more drafts.
Sorry you lost the case, said Theo. Still think my straw hat and a little Zippity Do Dah' could have made the difference.
Not that important, anyway.
Right. Sort of a pissant case for a hotshot lawyer like yourself, isn't it?
Jack selected a tortilla chip and gathered up some fresh salsa. William Bailey asked me to take it as a favor for one of his clients.
Theo made a face, clearly disapproving. William Bailey was the managing partner of Bailey, Benning, and Langer, Miami's oldest, largest, and most self-important law firm. It was no secret in the legal community that BB&L was looking for a real trial lawyer to head its litigation department.
They're getting their hooks in you, Jack buddy. Take a few cases, get to know their clients. Next thing you know, you got a nice corner office, two dozen young lawyers think Mr. Swyteck's shit don't stink, and your FYN is off the charts.
My FYN?
Your fuck-you number. The amount of money you need to have stashed away in order to walk up to the stuffed prick who signs your paycheck and say, Fuck you, buddy, I'm outta here.' Miami's highest FYN gots to be a partner at Bailey, Benning, and Langer.
I'm not selling out.
I hears you saying it, man. But you dance long enough with anybody, you end up begging for the pooty.
Theo was about to say more, then stopped, his gaze suddenly fixed toward the entrance. Jack turned to see a striking brunette walk toward the hostess. She wasn't dripping with sexuality like so many of south Florida's walking billboards for plastic surgery. She was captivating on a more intriguing level, dressed in a black Chanel suit with an open collar, only a hint of cleavage, the jacket cut just sharply enough to suggest that a pretty amazing body went along with that classic face.
Good, said Jack, she's here. That's the woman I wanted you to meet.
That's Mia? You're dating her?
Yeah. Better than eight weeks now.
For the first time in ten years, Theo was speechless.
What's wrong? said Jack.
You didn't tell me she was gorgeous.
Maybe I didn't think it was all that important.
Yeah, right. And maybe I'll be elected governor of Utah. How do you go two months seeing a woman like that and not give me an eyeful?
You always made excuses. I figured you had no interest in meeting her.
I just didn't want to have to pretend I liked some loser who'd probably end up dumping you anyway. But damn, Jack. Didn't know you had it in you.
Is it my imagination, or did you somehow manage to insult me thirty-six different ways in just three sentences?
No, man, it's a compliment. How old is she? Twenty-five?
Older than she looks. So don't look at me like I'm robbing the cradle.
Rob away. Got no problem with
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