She'd had a crap day. Nothing had happened. Well, nothing of interest. She'd sat at the back of courtroom number one, legs folded over each other as she closed her eyes. Her notebook was resting in her lap while her fingers twirled her pen, moving it between three fingers. She had done her best to remain intrigued in the case she was supposed to be covering for the Journal, but there was nothing in court that day. Well, nothing except for a few drunk and disorderly charges followed by petty theft.
There was nothing that would make front-page news. She stood up after a few moments and then moved, her dress clinging to her thighs in the heat as she left the courtroom, not bothering to stick around to listen to the prosecution give evidence. Lifting her bag further onto her shoulder, she wandered down the corridor, her heels clicking on the floor.
Coming to the end, she looked up, her eyes going to the case list for the day. There was nothing that would be any good. Closing her eyes again, her hands went to her hair before she felt a familiar presence besides her. He was dressed in his usual ill-fitted suit, his hair floppy on top of his head as his battered briefcase swung by his side.
"Nothing of interest, huh?" he asked from her.
"You'd know," she responded. "So, what is it today?"
"You know how it is," he told her with a shrug. "A young guy finds out his girlfriend's been cheating and the next thing he's in a fight in the middle of a dive bar. It's loves young dream, really it is."
"Oh yeah," she scoffed back, hands going to her hip as she felt a bead of sweat drop down her forehead, wondering what was going on with the air conditioning in the courthouse. Clearly there was none today. "I mean, if only my marriage had ended up like that. It would have been the dream."
"As opposed to divorce?" he wondered from her. "Nah, stick with divorce. There's no broken nose in that."
"Sometimes there is," she responded. "Anyway, tell me more about the case. I might come and watch. The Lord knows there's nothing else going on around here. It's boring me to tears."
"What?" he asked, mock shock on his face as he took a look at the cases on the paper in front of them, pinned on the notice board. "You mean to tell me that a stolen garden gnome isn't going to make the headlines?"
She did laugh then, his sarcasm enough to bring a smile onto her lips. She looked over to him as he shot her another look and let himself cough once, moving his fist to cover his mouth.
"Not unless the gnome was sat on a hidden bunker full of a million dollars," she responded to him and he did laugh then, the sound shrill and deep as he nodded his head, brows rising up and onto his forehead.
"That would be a turn around," he told her. "Anyway, I'm on in half an hour."
"Just enough time for me to run across the road and grab a coffee before the case…that's if you can interest me to turn up," she challenged him and he moved to let his back rest against the wall as she took a couple of steps to move in front of him.
"So anyway," he began, hands flailing around as he spoke to her, "this guy goes into a bar-"
"-Sounds like the start of one of your shit jokes," she interrupted him and he looked at her deadpan.
"My jokes are not shit," he responded to her and she arched a brow on her forehead, hands on her hips as he shrugged his shoulders, caving under her stare. "Okay, maybe some of them could do with some finesse."
"Some," she echoed with sarcasm and he sent her an insincere glare.
"Are you interested in what I have to tell you or not?" he asked and she moved her hand in front of her, keeping quiet and allowing him to continue. "Anyway, Brown walks into this bar and sees this guy with his hands all over his girlfriend. I'm not just talking a peck on the cheek, I'm talking full on hanky panky in the corner of the bar-"
"-Get it," Clara interrupted once more, holding a hand up and pleading with him not to divulge the details.
"So really, they should be the ones being charged for public indecency," he said to her. "Anyway, Brown goes over to the guy, pulls him off of his girlfriend and…their might have been a few racist slurs…but he starts to punch this guy. No one in the bar saw the other guys…Hector…yeah…no one saw him even punch Johnny Brown."
"So he didn't retaliate?" she asked from him. "Seems like a clear cut case."
"You'd think that," he nodded at her. "So how did Johnny end up with a broken nose?"
Looking intrigued, she folded her arms over her chest. "He tripped?"
"Classic," he chuckled.
"So what is he claiming happened?" Clara enquired. "If no one saw anything then what's your defence?"
"Hector owns the bar where the brawl started," he said to her, bending one leg and letting his foot rest against the wall. "So why would anyone go against him? Everyone in there was his friend. Everyone in that bar was associated with him. You know what that means?"
"I'm not a lawyer, but I can piece two and two together," she informed him and he chuckled at her response. "So no one was willing to testify against him?"
"Bingo," he clicked his fingers in her direction. "So, what d'you think? Got a chance of making at least the third page. Page thirty four is no place for this face," he motioned to himself and she scoffed at hearing him.
"You'll be lucky if we manage to get thirty four pages filled to print," she told him. "You know, an old woman called the office this morning and asked if she could put a full page ad in tomorrow's paper for her charity event? We had to say yes because we had nothing to fill it with."
"Dire times for journalism," he mused.
"Yeah," she agreed. "But anyway, without any witnesses…I reckon your chances of getting him off are slim. What's the DA arguing for?"
"Nine months," he told her.
She snorted loudly. "Good luck getting that down."
"Have you not seen me do my thing?" he asked from her. "Think Atticus Finch, but a whole lot more enthusiastic and good looking."
She let her lips quirk despite herself at hearing him, hand holding tightly onto the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "Well, you've piqued my interest," she shrugged. "Besides, it's either this or head back to the office with nothing. So you had better make it worth my time."
"Oh, don't worry," he offered her a wink. "I always do, don't I?"
She saw him saunter off down the corridor and towards courtroom number three. She watched him go before checking the time from the clock on the wall. She still had time to grab a coffee. She suspected she might need the caffeine fix if she was to endure Jimmy McGill in court.
…
He was impressive; there was no denying that. She had paid attention to every motion he made, his movements animated and his arguments loud and demanding as the judge almost looked bored to tears. She had remained sat on the bench in the back, scribbling down notes in shorthand before the judge ruled and the DA almost looked shocked.
Three months. He had managed to get nine months down to three months. No doubt with good behaviour he would be out in just over a month. She had done her best not to look too impressed as he left the courtroom and saw her back in the corridor, holding her cell to her ear as she called the office and told them of the events in the courthouse.
"Impressive, huh?" he asked from her and she rolled her eyes at him as he held his hands out by his sides, a look of smugness on his face. "And you doubted me."
"I doubt everyone," she informed him. "So what you having tonight?"
"Gin," he mused. "I think it's your turn to get them in too."
"You're just made $700 for one case," she argued as he went to check on the case list, seeing which courtroom he was in for the Morrows v Holly.
"And I'm about to make $700 for another," he told her, "but you're still buying. I'll see you in a couple of hours."
Giving her one wave goodbye, she watched him go before heading out of the courthouse and back to the office to write up her days notes, knowing that it would only be two hours before she had a glass of wine in her hands once more.
…
"Lawyer extraordinaire, Jimmy McGill, managed to reduce a defendant's sentence dramatically from nine months down to three months. Speaking after the case, Mr. McGill said: "I was just doing what any decent lawyer would do. Helping to keep our prisons free from crooks and our streets full of them.""
He laughed at hearing her as she placed down the notebook she always carried with her. Picking up her glass of wine, she sipped on it, laughing into it at the sight of his face scrunched up in amusement. Putting the wine glass down on the napkin on the bar, she watched him sip on his gin.
"You ever considered a career in stand-up?" he asked from her and she shrugged her shoulders as he pulled at his tie, loosening it down his white shirt.
"Oh yeah," she said with sarcasm, "but the pay is nowhere near as good as that of a crime reporter for a local newspaper."
"Shocking," he played along.
"I know," she said. "So go on, how is business? Picked up any new clients yet?"
Sighing, he let out a deep breath, the look of entertainment gone from his features as he shook his head back and forth. Shrugging out of his beige suit jacket, he let it fall onto the back of the stool he sat on. The bar they came to was dark and dingy, the alcohol cheap and the atmosphere practically non-existent. Most times they were the two causing the most noise. The pool table tended to sit unoccupied while the bartender either cleaned down the bar or washed glasses in the sink at the back of the bar.
"None," he answered her. "I keep trying, but you know how business is."
"Slow," she mused. "I think we both know that."
"Yeah," he agreed with a low snort. "So what? Made anymore redundancies recently?"
"Not in the past few months," she informed him. "Although I think I'd probably be next. I mean, why would they need two crime reporters? Besides, Bill has been there longer than I have."
"What?" he asked from her. "You're ancient. He must be a fossil."
Moving to hit him across the arm, she shook her head at him before picking her glass of white wine up once more. "Just because you like your girls fresh from college doesn't mean that I am ancient."
"Hey," he complained to her. "You make me sound like a predator."
Rolling her eyes at him, she let her lips remain quirked. Keeping her hand wrapped around her wine glass, her other hand tugged at the grey pencil dress she wore, her heels dangling from her toes as she folded one leg over the other. She did her best not to seem too bothered by the heat, but she had to admit that it did get to her.
"You know," he said, changing the conversation, "I heard that HHM might be hiring."
"Your old firm?" she asked from him. "The firm your brother still works at?"
"Same one," he nodded to her, "but I think they're after someone to work in the communications side of it. Apparently it's becoming big business."
"You hate HHM," she reminded him. "Why would you advertise for them?"
"I'm not," he responded, tugging on his tie once more and then sipping his gin, finishing it off and holding up his empty glass to the bartender, indicating that he wanted a refill. "I'm just telling you of potential job opportunities that might be coming up in case you end up struggling for work."
"I never knew you cared." She mused and he rolled his eyes at her sarcastic tone.
"Believe me, I don't," he told her, "but someone's got to look out for you journos. I like to think of myself as a good citizen."
She laughed again then as she ordered herself another refill once his had come. "I am sure you do, Jimmy," she said to him. "Anyway, I need to get going after this one. Busy day tomorrow, down at the police station seeing if anything interesting is happening and then moving onto the courthouse."
"Hey," he said, "if you ever get bored of it then you should think about becoming a lawyer."
She did laugh then, a full on hearty laugh as she heard him speak. He looked to her, wondering if what he had said had been that funny. As her laugh died down and people stopped staring at them, he leant closer to her, one arm going over the bar as his brows furrowed together and he wondered what had gotten to her.
"I know I'm funny, but I didn't think I was that funny," he informed her and she shook her head.
"I mean, me, a lawyer," she said to him. "Jimmy, you know I would never be able to do what you do…the confidence…"
"Thanks for the compliment," he said, sipping his drink again, "and I know I'm a genius, but you're not exactly a wallflower."
"Yeah," she agreed, "but I'm not a lawyer."
"Just a thought," he shrugged to her.
"And for once, not a very good one," she declared, holding onto her refilled wine glass.
They both ended up drinking and chatting for another twenty minutes before she finished her drink. Moving to slide down from the stool, she chucked her bag onto her shoulder, pulling her notebook from the surface and chucking it in before looking to Jimmy, her blue eyes wide as she tucked her brown hair behind her ears.
"Same time tomorrow?' she asked from him.
"Yeah," he said, climbing down from the stool and walking with her outside of the dive after tossing a twenty onto the bar and holding a hand up to bid the barkeep goodnight.
Coming to the fresh air, it was dark outside as they both wandered away down the sidewalk.
"Right, I'm going to walk home," she said to him, pointing in the opposite direction to where he was going as she looked to his car and pointed at it. "Don't you dare get in that thing. You've had more than the limit."
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said to her. "You going to be okay getting home?"
"Your concern is flattering, Mr. McGill, but I can handle myself. Besides, I'm only a couple of blocks away," she told him. "Give me a text when you get home. I'll see you in court, Jimmy."
Nodding, he watched her go for a moment. "See you tomorrow, Cecilia."
He waited until she had rounded the corner before pulling his car keys from his pocket and moving to his car. He could still walk in a straight line; he'd be fine to drive. Besides, he was a lawyer. If he got into any trouble then he could just talk himself out of it.
…
A/N: Do let me know what you think!