Downtown, in the supposedly straight-laced Central Business District, the tall office buildings and more conservative hotels looked across Canal Street into the French Quarter like a funhouse mirror: the streets that overlapped had two different names and the grand facades shrank down brick-bound balconies, but the traffic was stop and go in both zones and streetwalkers on both sides had a nose for easy money.\u00a0 Around lunchtime, from the top floors of a stack of offices, one could watch people in miniature rushing to switch sides.\u00a0 The marketing agents, executive overseers of oil surveys, and associate partners strode in packs towards the entryways of Galatoire\u2019s, Brennan\u2019s, Antoine\u2019s, their throats dry and their business cards crisp.\u00a0 The Quarter, to offset the load, gave up delivery boys, returned flier-posting squads with empty satchels, and turned away the graveyard shift bartenders who had been spending their tip money into the morning.\u00a0 The border was free, unmonitored, and straight.\u00a0 Paul looked down at it through the giant window in the solvent-scented reception area of Hart, Hinckley, & Lebreton.\u00a0 After a few moments he uncrossed his arms and turned perpendicular to the window, widened his stance, drew back his arms, hands around an invisible three wood.\u00a0 He followed through at full speed, twisted his torso and held the position, while an imaginary ball landed two-hundred and seventy yards away, bounced off the roof of the Hurwitz-Mintz building and dropped down to the pavement.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s the pace.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The receptionist, a tiny young woman who seemed to be built into the enormous desk and dressed in colors to match the muted d\u00e9cor, called out to him.\u00a0 Paul held his pose, trying to muscle-memorize it, then turned.\u00a0 \u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Hart will see you now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s not coming out?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUm.\u00a0 I can take you back.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know the way.\u201d<\/p>\n
She held out a floppy visitor\u2019s badge with the number 97 printed on it in the most ostensible block numbers possible.\u00a0 \u201cCan you sign for this, please?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cExcuse me?\u201d asked Paul, looking concerned.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust sign the sheet.\u00a0 You can clip this anywhere on your clothing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAh, I don\u2019t think I will, thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSir, every visitor is required to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPaul Hinckley,\u201d he said as if speaking into a voice-recognition phone directory.<\/p>\n
She whispered, \u201cJust sign, please,\u201d like it would be a fun icebreaker for them both.<\/p>\n
\u201cHinckley.\u00a0 Hinckley.\u00a0 Who do you work for?\u00a0 Hart, Hinckley<\/em>, and Lebreton.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cActually, I\u2019m employed by a staffing agency, but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd you expect to get hired on permanently with an attitude like\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOr, you can just take the badge.\u00a0 Don\u2019t sign.\u00a0 It\u2019s fine, sir<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul grabbed the badge and stuffed it into his pocket.\u00a0 \u201cRidiculous.\u201d<\/p>\n The receptionist pressed a button and the door into the main offices buzzed open.\u00a0 \u201cWe just like to take precautions, Mr. Hinckley.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul huffed and pushed through the door.\u00a0 He walked down a long hallway that ran in a square outlining the entire firm.\u00a0 Paralegals and secretaries worked in small offices without windows to the right; on the left were the heavy doors of private offices of associates and junior partners.\u00a0 The entire office smelled like fresh paper pulp and Hugo Boss.\u00a0 The only decoration came by way of framed black and white lithographs of the Mississippi River spaced evenly along the hall.\u00a0 Paul turned three corners until he had come all the way around to the pinewood door of an office that shared a wall with the reception area he\u2019d just escaped.\u00a0 He knocked twice, his knuckles hitting the small space between the carved words Montgomery<\/em> and Hart<\/em>.<\/p>\n A young man dressed in a navy pinstripe suit and with a part carved into his thick black hair opened the door, met Paul\u2019s eyes for one second, then dropped his head.\u00a0 Paul stepped through and approached a silver-haired 2×4 of a man seated behind a large oak desk.\u00a0 The man stood and reached out a rolling palm.\u00a0 \u201cPaul, I\u2019m devastated.\u201d<\/p>\n When Paul gripped the man\u2019s hand he felt a root of relief take hold in his own arm and spread deep inside his body.\u00a0 \u201cMonty.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike I said, I\u2019m devastated.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul broke off the handshake and fell into one of two large cordovan leather chairs.\u00a0 The young man closed the door, unbuttoned his suit coat, and sat in the other.<\/p>\n \u201cI had some hassles in reception.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPaul, swap some sweat with my other right hand.\u00a0 Carter Macintosh.\u201d\u00a0 Paul acknowledged the young man then put a fist to his temple.\u00a0 \u201cHassles, huh?\u201d\u00a0 Montgomery Hart draped his arms across his blotter.\u00a0 \u201cNot with a potential client, I hope.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, no.\u00a0 With your girl.\u00a0 You know, I can remember when they didn\u2019t let all their forms get in the way of their flirting.\u00a0 But that was when flirting was SOP, right, Monty?\u00a0 Anyway, she just had<\/em> to give me this.\u201d\u00a0 He withdrew the badge from his pocket and lobbed it onto Monty\u2019s desk.\u00a0 She\u2019s a temp.\u00a0 Think you could switch her out?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWho, Becky?\u00a0 She\u2019s a temp but she\u2019s been here seven years.\u00a0 Ousting her now might upset some routines.\u00a0 Aren\u2019t you sleeping with her, Carter?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s hard to tell,\u201d the young man grinned.<\/p>\n \u201cHard to tell if you\u2019re sleeping with a girl?\u00a0 It\u2019s a pretty goddamned simple concept.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat I mean is it\u2019s hard to define the exact nature of our relationship.\u00a0 All I can say, sir, is that at this precise moment I don\u2019t seem to be inside her.\u201d<\/p>\n The old man smiled.\u00a0 \u201cYou kids.\u00a0 You\u2019ve taken it upon yourself to legally un<\/em>-define everything.\u00a0 Takes the fun out of lawyering.\u00a0 But that\u2019s the new paradigm, I guess.\u201d\u00a0 Hart turned back to Paul with a face of utmost seriousness.\u00a0 \u201cPaul, I can\u2019t tell you how devastated I am.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI want you to know straight up there are about five swinging dicks out there making all kinds of conjectures and taking blind polls and committing to who knows what kind of alliances because they know this day was long coming\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, not that long, Monty, really\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201c\u2014and they know that someone gets to move up now.\u00a0 But you\u2019ve got my word that your father\u2019s name won\u2019t come off the stationery.\u00a0 At seventy-five I\u2019m now the oldest member of this firm.\u00a0 But I won\u2019t have any rugs taken out from underneath me or<\/em> your father\u2019s dead body.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI have no doubt, Monty, come on.\u201d<\/p>\n Hart nodded firmly.\u00a0 \u201cOkay, Carter, switch seats with me and load up my iPod with some appropriate songs.\u00a0 I\u2019ll talk to Paul.\u201d<\/p>\n The two men stood and walked in opposite arcs.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t keep control of that thing, Paul.\u00a0 But I can\u2019t stand talk radio either.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure.\u00a0 Now, listen, Monty.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGod, am I damned sorry about your Pop.\u00a0 He was the best counselor I ever saw.\u00a0 I can\u2019t say he taught me everything I know, but he definitely tried to.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not trying to take up too much of your time.\u00a0 I just came to collect whatever personal effects there might be.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019s that kosher little pickle of yours, Liza?\u00a0 You going to settle down with her anytime soon?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, we tried that, remember?\u00a0 Didn\u2019t take.\u00a0 It takes two houses for us to work.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHa!\u00a0 It took me three wives to figure that one out, and look here, the Kid gets it on the first try.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul leaned in.\u00a0 \u201cActually, Monty, I was thinking.\u00a0 Maybe\u2026maybe if you\u2019ve got any room you could bring me on here.\u201d<\/p>\n Hart matched Paul\u2019s posture like a bet and narrowed his eyebrows.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019re still doing tax preparation?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, but I\u2019ve kept my status with the bar current.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow many degrees do you have again?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf this were a light-hearted day, I\u2019d say \u2018three and a half.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe Kid.\u00a0 So studious.\u201d<\/p>\n Paul could begin to smell the stale, floral scent of gin pushed forward by Hart\u2019s thick breath.\u00a0 \u201cYou don\u2019t have to give me an answer today.\u00a0 But I\u2019ve always thought of this as a family business.\u201d<\/p>\n Hart sighed.\u00a0 \u201cKid, kid, kid.\u00a0 You\u2019ve never practiced a day in your life.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cTulane Law. \u00a0That counts for something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s going to be hard.\u00a0 Not having your father around.\u00a0 Some days I thought he carried this whole town in his pocket and jangled it like change.\u00a0 But you\u2019re not James Hinckley, Paul.\u00a0 You\u2019re the Kid.\u00a0 Maybe twenty-five years ago, if you\u2019d let us, we could find a square hole for you to fit in, but, come on.\u00a0 Your father and I didn\u2019t build this firm by relying on fifty-year-old rookies.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIs Mr. Lebreton in his office?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPaul, I barred my own sons from these doors.\u00a0 I forced them to DC and New York.\u00a0 That was hard, but necessary.\u00a0 Look, this is Louisiana, son.\u00a0 We can\u2019t keep spinning gold out of straw forever.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJust think about it, Monty.\u00a0 I\u2019m not asking for a Pop\u2019s office or to handle major clients.\u00a0 Just let me put my foot in the door.\u00a0 This place needs a Hinckley.\u201d<\/p>\n Hart reached out and dropped his hand down on Paul\u2019s shoulder.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll chew it over.\u00a0 Now, come on, you go clean out that office.\u00a0 Take anything that doesn\u2019t have the letterhead on it.\u00a0 I\u2019ll have some boys fold some boxes together.\u00a0 God, am I blasted sorry.\u00a0 Carter, will you stop fiddling with that thing and get the Kid some damned boxes?\u201d<\/p>\n *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 *<\/p>\n James Douglas Hinckley\u2019s door bore no inscription.<\/p>\n \u201cTruly powerful men,\u201d he\u2019d once said, \u201cdon\u2019t need anything external to remind them that they are so.\u201d\u00a0 This proverb informed the understated measure of his office as well.\u00a0 There was a roll top desk he\u2019d bought after it was old but before it became an antique, the same one he\u2019d had moved from building to building as the firm grew and changed locations.\u00a0 Its back was to the wall opposite the door.\u00a0 Whenever someone visited, Hinckley would turn his chair, leaving no officious barrier between him and the client.\u00a0 There were two wastebaskets on either side of the desk.\u00a0 One for used up yellow sheets of legal paper, empty pens, and scraps and the other for \u201ctrue trash\u201d: interoffice protocol memos, appeals or brown-nosing letters dictated by lower associates, and duplicate copies of non-germane briefs, affidavits, and proposals automatically forwarded to him as partner from all corners of the office, an automated redundancy caused by the incurable Army staff mentality that Lebreton brought home from the war.\u00a0 \u201cIf he can\u2019t duplicate it, he\u2019ll triplicate it,\u201d Paul\u2019s father had told him.\u00a0 \u201cAnd if there\u2019s no time for that, he\u2019ll just de-abbreviate it.\u201d\u00a0 Despite the fact that the office doubled as an informal conference room, there were only the two auxiliary chairs besides the one that belonged with the desk.\u00a0 Anyone else had to stand, and did, men in dark suits stacked two deep against the walls watching Hart gesticulate, Hinckley think, and Lebreton clean his fingernails.\u00a0 Two paintings hung opposite each other, original Winslow Homers.\u00a0 Aside from these things, a red brick regularly employed as a doorstop, and an ashtray, the room was covertly bare.\u00a0 Paul walked across the hardwood floor and sat in the chair like he did as a child, waiting for his father to return.\u00a0 He withdrew a pencil from a cubbyhole in the desk, leaned back and balanced it between his nose and upper lip, then pushed off with his feet before curling them under and spinning.\u00a0 He finished two revolutions before sapping his inertia.<\/p>\n Carter Macintosh came in with a waxy cardboard box designed to hold hundreds of manila file folders, thousands of words and numbers, but few details.<\/p>\n \u201cHere you are, Mr. Hinckley.\u00a0 I just wanted to offer my condolences as well.\u00a0 Even as old as he was he never needed to recheck his facts.\u00a0 A really incredible memory.\u00a0 We\u2019ll miss him.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d Paul said.\u00a0 He rose and put the box down on the chair before opening up the drawers of the desk and pulling out assorted letters and mementoes.\u00a0 The small pile barely covered the bottom of the box.\u00a0 From the bottom drawer Paul pulled a brass ring with a dozen or so keys looped around it, a leather-bound ledger, and a half-full fifth of Knappogue Irish whiskey.\u00a0 On top of these Paul placed a few framed photos of himself and his siblings, the clay ashtray bearing the emblem of the old Roosevelt hotel, a pearl-handled jackknife, and a small spray-bottle of St. John\u2019s Bay West Indies Lime cologne.<\/p>\n \u201cCould you send in someone to carry the paintings?\u201d Paul asked.\u00a0 \u201cThey\u2019re my father\u2019s property, not the firm\u2019s.\u00a0 Just to be clear.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course.\u00a0 Someone\u2019s coming down the hall now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThanks.\u201d\u00a0 Paul placed the lid down on the box, displacing air out through the side handle holes then lifted it up against his gut.\u00a0 \u201cBy the way, are you a golfer?\u201d<\/p>\n Harry Lebreton, the third and final partner, strode into the room flanked by two similar men with darting eyes and matching fleur-de-lis cuff links.\u00a0 His high-and-tight haircut seemed to be a biological accessory of his crisp khaki suit and high-collared shirt, starched and bleached as white as the Virgin Mary\u2019s soul.\u00a0 \u201cHold!\u00a0 Right there, Paul.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMr. Lebreton!\u00a0 Hello, yeah?\u00a0 What\u2019s with the security?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPut the box down.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was just leaving.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPut it down!\u201d<\/p>\n Paul placed the box on his father\u2019s desk.\u00a0 The two men immediately pushed him a yard aside, opened the box, and proceeded to dig through the contents.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat gives?\u201d<\/p>\n Montogmery Hart came into the room, breathless.\u00a0 \u201cHarry.\u00a0 Come on.\u00a0 You think the Kid\u2019s gonna try to pull anything?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe need to cover the bases.\u00a0 Paul, what the hell do you think you\u2019re doing?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMostly I\u2019m trying to cope, but I\u2019ve got a few other errands to run today.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHarry,\u201d Hart said again.\u00a0 \u201cI gave him permission.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat was before we got this<\/em>,\u201d Lebreton said.\u00a0 He lifted a sheaf of papers bound by a pinch clip in a motion not that dissimilar to a color guard\u2019s rifle drill.\u00a0 Paul, what in the blue fuck are you up to?\u201d<\/p>\n Monty separated the papers three pages at a time and scanned them.\u00a0 \u201cWhat is this?\u00a0 Letters of intent?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cArrived by courier just twenty minutes ago.\u00a0 Damned if it didn\u2019t take twice as long as it should have to reach my desk.\u00a0 Paul, just how far up your leg in shit<\/em> are you with Remo MacQuincy?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cRemo?\u00a0 I don\u2019t know.\u00a0 What?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s sent us this bundle of signed statements and letters apparently as proof of character witnesses in some kind of alpha dog move.\u00a0 Utterly scurrilous.\u00a0 Yours<\/em> is page one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf you were involved in any way with this firm, I\u2019d have you fired and forcibly dismissed.\u00a0 As it stands, I\u2019m just going to have to settle for the latter.\u00a0 This is a gigantic conflict of interest.\u00a0 We can\u2019t have any associate of Remo MacQuincy in any way involved with this firm.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow look here\u2014\u201d Paul said.<\/p>\n \u201cHarry!\u00a0 Have a little heart.\u00a0 His father, our partner just passed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd the same day this pissant signs an accord with the most disrespected attorney to ever pass through the doors of an Orleans courtroom?\u00a0 The apples don\u2019t fall far from the tree, but sometimes they roll downhill.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing here,\u201d one of the bulky men said.<\/p>\n \u201cDouble check it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHarry!<\/em>\u201d Hart pleaded.<\/p>\n Paul held out his hands while watching the men rifle through his new belongings.\u00a0 \u201cLook, I know Remo\u2019s never seen eye-to-eye with everyone, but what\u2019s the deal?\u00a0 You gotta believe me when I tell you I haven\u2019t even spoken to him in five years.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe\u2019s a one-man litigation wrecking ball.\u00a0 He\u2019s a walking countersuit.\u00a0 And besides the fact that he initiates more cases than he could possibly finish in a lifetime and has tagged every firm in town with a strand of red tape, MacQuincy is off his fucking rocker<\/em>.\u00a0 Exhibit A, his behavior during Katrina.\u00a0 Which, need I remind you, was so extravagant it made the Wall Street Journal.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLook, I went to school with the guy,\u201d Paul explained.\u00a0 \u201cHe\u2019s eccentric, but that\u2019s par for the course with his family.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFrankly, Paul, I find it not only improbable but absolutely incredible that you inherited none of your father\u2019s guile.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHarry!\u201d<\/p>\n Lebreton put his hand up against Hart\u2019s chest.\u00a0 \u201cI mean it Monty.\u00a0 That cute his-master\u2019s-voice shit wore old twenty years ago.\u00a0 Somewhere in that head of yours is a true Hinckley brain that never got activated, and now every firm, judge, and assistant district attorney in the parish has a statement of brotherhood between you and this maniac like you were Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer.\u00a0 We can\u2019t have any seeming toleration.\u00a0 Even your father would agree.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLook, I can explain.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s clean sir.\u00a0 Just junk,\u201d a snoop said.<\/p>\n \u201cEscort him out of the building.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPaul, I\u2019m sorry,\u201d Hart said while looking at the ground.<\/p>\n The five men all stood stuck in their poses, the gravity of hot temper keeping them all in stationary orbit.\u00a0 Only Paul\u2019s eyes moved, taking in the walls, the corners, and the cracking leather of the two matching chairs where hundreds of supplicants had made obeisance to his father\u2019s wisdom.\u00a0 It was as if the entire room was a slinky heirloom sliding down a gutter into a dark storm drain, its glint no longer enjoyed but feared for.\u00a0 Paul replaced the lid on the box and lifted it again.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you were supposed to kiss me before the betrayal,\u201d he said.\u00a0 Lebreton matched his stare for a moment, but ultimately looked away and clasped his hands behind his back.<\/p>\n \u201cGo be with your family, Kid,\u201d Hart suggested.\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ll see you at the service.\u201d<\/p>\n The two security men followed close behind Paul as he backtracked through the corridor.\u00a0 His heart beat like a faulty piston and his guts seized up in want of gin, vodka, bourbon, or any other lubricant.\u00a0 Exiting through reception, he heard the girl call out but did not process the words, \u201cSir, I\u2019ll need you to return your visitor\u2019s badge.\u201d<\/p>\n