Attorney-Client Privilege (19 page)

G
irlie studied the bored faces scattered around the table in the Big Buy board room. She found it odd that none of the six board members were talking to each other. Three were pecking away on their smartphones. Two were on their cell phones. Another was reading the newspaper.

“Rita should be here any minute,” Evelyn Kimble announced. Making excuses for the CEO must have been written into her job description.

This was Girlie’s first appearance at a Big Buy board meeting, her presence necessitated by Vernetta Henderson’s recently filed class action. Girlie always had the impression that Evelyn intentionally kept her out of reach of the Big Buy board. Some general counsels feared that allowing their outside counsel access to their board might result in their replacement. But now that her ass was on the line, Evelyn was glad to put Girlie on the chopping block.

To Girlie’s surprise, Vernetta’s press conference had generated a groundswell of national media coverage, from
The Wall Street Journal
to the
Nightly News
to the Huffington Post. A
60 Minutes
producer had even contacted the company, requesting an interview. All of the news outlets reported the allegations as if they were fact.
The New York Post
ran the outrageous headline: California Store Tells Women, ‘Stay in Your Place.’

“So what are we going to do about this?” board member Keith Rogers asked, finally putting away his phone. “My colleagues know I’m a member of this board. All this bad publicity could impact me personally.”

Interesting comment, Girlie thought. The board members had a fiduciary duty to the company, but this guy was worrying about his own skin.

“I don’t understand how they can accuse this company of sex discrimination,” Rogers continued. “The CEO
and
the general counsel are both women.”

He’d neglected to acknowledge that the board of directors was entirely male. Rogers probably had no idea of the company’s equally disgraceful stats outside of this room. Diversity wasn’t a word the Big Buy board even knew how to pronounce.

“Getting a handle on this negative publicity is precisely what we’re here to discuss,” the general counsel replied. “But let’s wait until Rita arrives before we begin.”

At that instant, Rita bolted into the room, followed by the company’s Chief Financial Officer. Fred Hiller had been a partner with Big Buy’s longtime accounting firm, Wynn, Miller & Gold. Rita hired him on as CFO three months after her husband’s death. Girlie had learned from one of her partners that Rita and the very married Fred were an item, but the two foolishly believed that no one knew about their affair.

Rita took a seat at the head of the table and immediately turned her wrath on Girlie.

“I don’t like hearing that my company is the target of a class action on the local news. If you had settled with that woman, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“We knew this was coming after receiving information from one of your employees that Ms. Henderson was talking to them about filing a class action,” Girlie said.
And by the way you were the one who told me to play hardball.

“Do you know how embarrassing this is for me?” Rita continued to rant.

Girlie hadn’t come here to be publicly berated. She had hoped for some support from Evelyn, but the general counsel wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“You said you had the case under control.” Rita pounded the table with her fist. “And now the news of the Welson merger has leaked out. But there won’t
be
a merger unless you fix this.”

It always baffled Girlie that clients thought it was her job to fix their screw ups.
There wouldn’t be a problem to fix if your company didn’t blatantly discriminate against women.
The CEO was only worried about her $125 million.

“Well, say something,” Rita challenged. “How are you going to resolve this?”

Girlie could feel heat sting her cheeks. She fought off the urge to put Rita in her place. No matter how much she resented the woman’s disrespect, losing Big Buy as a client would not be a good career move.

Before she could respond, Rita’s executive assistant rushed in carrying a monogrammed cup and saucer. Her hands were trembling so badly the tinkling of the cup hitting the saucer blared across the room.

Rita narrowed her eyes and shot the woman a hateful, intimidating glare. Jane Campbell’s premature gray hair and frail demeanor made her appear much older than her late fifties. She shakily placed the tea on the table, lowered her head and backed out of the room.

“Please get back here,” Rita huffed, snapping her fingers in the air. “This isn’t hot enough.” Rita hadn’t even tasted it.

“I’m sorry,” Jane mumbled. “I’ll bring another cup.”

Rita waved her away. “Just forget it. I guess I’ll have to make it myself.”

Girlie wanted to jump to the poor woman’s defense and set Rita straight. It was just like Rita to pick on the weak. Girlie learned from her former partner that Jane had been the longtime executive assistant to Big Buy founder, Harlan Kimble. They’d shared a close relationship, which Rita had always resented. In an effort to protect her, Harlan’s will mandated that Jane receive four-hundred-thousand dollars if she was terminated before reaching the company’s retirement age of sixty-two.

Harlan had assumed the provision would protect his beloved assistant, but it had just the opposite effect. Rita didn’t want to keep Jane on and she also didn’t want to pay her four-hundred grand to leave. So instead, Rita treated her like a dog, hoping she would quit.

Everyone waited for the uncomfortable silence to fade.

Evelyn finally found her voice. “Girlie and I have been discussing a number of strategies for dealing with this situation,” she explained. “We’ve also retained a PR firm from New York which specializes in crisis management. They’re putting together a PR plan to get our side of the story out there.”

Rita pounded the table again. “I just want to know how fast you can make this nonsense go away.”

“If you really want to resolve this quickly, we should approach the other side about settlement,” Girlie said. “In another case, we agreed to put the court proceedings on hold, then conducted some limited discovery and proceeded to mediation. We got rid of the case in about three months. I suspect we can do the same here.”

“Three months!” Rita screamed. “That’s not fast enough. The Welson deal is supposed to close in eight weeks. I’ve already gotten a call from the company’s general counsel asking about this mess. I told him we have it under control.”

Girlie’s hands tightened around the arms of her chair, but she wished she could wrap them around Rita’s neck.

“There is another approach we can take that could put an end to the case almost immediately. It’ll be costly, but not nearly as costly as a class action.”

She briefly summarized her plan. The board members listened, but said nothing. Girlie realized that everyone was waiting to hear what Rita thought before expressing their own opinion.

Rita bit down on her ink pen and rocked back in her leather chair. “I like it. I like it a lot.”

Now that Rita thought it was a great idea, so did the board. Evelyn remained mute.

Girlie smiled at her own brilliance. She was certain that her clever little plan would quickly short-circuit the class action. And by the time Vernetta saw it coming, there would be absolutely nothing she could do about it.

I
t was unusual for Jefferson to be privy to information about my best friend that I didn’t know. So his call telling me that Special and Clayton had broken up was a bit of a shock.

I immediately hung up and called Special’s office. One of her co-workers told me she’d been out sick for the second day in a row. I drove straight to her house, even though she hadn’t answered her home phone or cell. The fact that Special had not bothered to tell me about the breakup meant that she was really in bad shape.

I knocked on the door, but got no response. I was about to leave when I heard the approach of footsteps. When she finally opened the door, all I could do was stare. She did not look like a wreck. Her skin had a bronzy glow and her makeup had been expertly applied, complete with eyelash extensions. Her micro braids had been replaced with a shoulder-length weave streaked with reddish-brown highlights. The tight, short-sleeved shirt and black jeans made her look like a Banana Republic model.

“Hey, girl, what’s up?” She stepped aside to welcome me in.

“I ran over here to check up on you.”

“And why would I need checking up on?”

“Because you broke up with Clayton and didn’t bother to tell me.”

She crossed her arms and fixed her lips with indignation. “He called to tell you we broke up?”

“No. He told Jefferson, who told me.”

I followed her into the living room where we sat down on the couch.

Special let out a heavy sigh. “I wasn’t ready to tell anybody yet. Not even you. I guess I didn’t want to hear
I told you so
.”

“I wouldn’t have said that.”

“Probably not. But you definitely would have been thinking it. I just had to get myself together first.”

“So you’re okay about it?”

“Nope.” She tried to smile, but halfway there it faltered.

“Well, you certainly look good.”

This time her attempt at a smile was more successful. “Girl, you know me. Whenever I feel like crap on the inside, at least I can fake it by looking good on the outside. After lying in bed crying all day yesterday, today I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. I went to the gym this morning and worked out really hard. Then I had a facial and got my hair and nails done.”

She spread out her bony fingers for me to see. Then her eyes started to water.

I reached over and gave her a big hug. As I did, I glanced over her shoulder and was surprised at what I saw sitting on the coffee table next to the couch. A large leather-bound Qur’an sat next to a Bible. Both were open.

“I see you’ve been doing some reading.”

She followed my eyes to the coffee table, then picked up the Qur’an.

“You know what the weird thing is? Since Clayton and I broke up, I’ve been reading the Holy Qur’an. I mean
really
reading it. Before I was only doing it because Clayton wanted me to. But now, I’m doing it for me.”

She set it in her lap and ran her hands over the cover.

“Thank God, I got into the habit of praying five times a day. That’s the only thing that’s gotten me through the last couple of days. Ain’t that a trip? I’ve been fighting Islam all along, but it’s brought me peace when I really needed it.”

My eyebrows fused in surprise. “Are you saying you couldn’t have found that same sense of peace with Christianity?”

“I’ve been reading the Bible too. I’ve always loved Psalms. I guess I’m trying to figure out what I really believe spiritually. I was brought up as a Christian and I’ve never questioned that. But for the first time in my life, I’m taking a deeper look at my faith. I guess I have my experience with Islam to thank for that.”

I didn’t know what else to say, so I decided to lighten the mood. “I know how we can get you and Clayton back together. We can kidnap him and get him deprogrammed.”

Special flinched. “Clayton doesn’t need deprogramming.” There was a defensiveness in her tone and the narrowing of her eyes echoed it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did. Everybody thinks anybody who joins the Community of Islam is a black racist, but that’s not true. I understand Clayton’s attraction to the Community. They’re about helping black people help themselves. But the reality is, I’m just not committed enough to make the kind of sacrifices he’s willing to make.”

She hung her head, then laughed softly. “Especially if it means I have to spend all my time at the mosque and give up Long Island Iced Teas and pork. I’m kinda shallow, huh?”

I laughed. “Not at all. I’m actually impressed at how you’re handling this. I ran over here expecting to find a basket case.”

She slapped her thigh. “You shoulda been here yesterday. But I got tired of waking up in the fetal position, with puffy eyes and Don King hair. So this morning I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself.” She stood up. “I wanna show you something.”

I followed her over to the dining room table. Papers and brochures covered the table.

“I’ve been researching my new career.” She held up a brochure entitled
Do You Have What it Takes to be a Private Investigator?

“So you’re really serious about this?”

“Yep. I’m just trying to decide whether I want to take night classes or do it online.”

“You’ll make a great private investigator,” I said.

Her eyes twinkled with hope. “Does that mean you’re going to hire me for one of your cases once I get my license?”

“Uh…I’m not sure we should work together. It might ruin our friendship.”

“That’s cold. You should hire me to look into Lamarr’s case. I still say Tonisha set him up. Maybe I can find some information you can use in his appeal.”

“Appealing that case is an exercise in futility. No court’s going to overturn the jury’s verdict. So don’t waste your time.”

“Okay,” she said with a syrupy smile. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m not playing, Special. Leave it alone. Don’t go nosing around in that case.”

She placed a hand on her hip. “Okay, okay. Want something to drink? All I have is cranberry juice. I drained my secret stash of wine last night.”

I followed her into the kitchen where she filled two glasses and handed one to me.

I glanced down at her ringless finger. “So did Clayton take the ring back?”

“Nope.”

“Are you going to give it back?”

“Nope.” She smiled sheepishly. “I also visited a couple of jewelry stores today. Got it appraised.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“’Cuz you know me. Clayton was a lot of things, but the brother definitely wasn’t cheap.” She picked up her purse from the kitchen counter, took out a red velvet box and popped it open.

“This bad boy right here,” she said, pulling out the ring, “is gonna finance my new career
and
allow me to spend a couple weeks in Jamaica getting my groove back.”