It was an overcast, cool autumn morning in Manhattan when the recently graduated Harvey Specter first heard the name Cameron Dennis.
He was barely twenty-four, sitting in the glass-walled office of the founding partner of Pearson Hardman, his arms tightly crossed and his eyes focused on the carpet as the words trial experience settled in the air like a noxious gas.
His hair was tousled, dirty-blonde and not yet darkened by years of stress, and facial stubble lined his jaw. He wore his untailored suit with a skinny tie, his dress shirt with the buttons done just short of the collar, and the shoes on his feet, department store brand and scuffed, with their poorly knotted laces hanging out the bottoms of his slacks. This Harvey was a far cry from the man he'd become twelve plus years later while serving under Jessica Pearson as the one of the top lawyers in the state.
This Harvey was young, ambitious, and most of all, frustrated beyond belief, as he sat before founder's daughter, throwing an adult-sized fit in the face of her amused smirk and raised eyebrow.
"You want to be an associate, you''ve got to do the dirty work. I told you that before we enrolled you in law school, Harvey," she told him firmly, and cocked her head when he puffed out a sigh.
"But we had a deal."
"We did. But we also had a deal that when my father hired you, you'd be the best candidate for the position. Without trial experience you don't meet that requirement."
Harvey's mouth twisted. They both knew that he'd been expecting the position to be waiting for him the minute he'd passed the bar. Over-confident and high off anticipation, he had already mapped out and dated his grandiose plans to win mass settlements, and pay back the founder's daughter, Jessica Pearson, every penny she had lost sending him to Harvard Law.
Now, he only sat, eyes intensely drifting between the floor, the desk, and Jessica herself while she neatly placed the application papers back into the manila envelope, as he tried to grasp at something that would help him change her mind.
"We already have a D.A. willing to take you under his wing," she said with a knowing smirk as she slid an emerald folder out from beneath a stack of papers. "He's only been in office for a little over two terms, but he has the best conviction record on the east coast, and ten years worth of legal experience under his belt."
"Who?" Harvey asked in a low, bitter mumble.
"Take a look."
Jessica passed him the emerald folder, and sat back in her chair as he began flipping through the pinched documents inside it with a childish passivity.
It was the current New York County District Attorney's resume, complete with pre-law work experience, notable achievements, volunteer work, and so on. At first Harvey couldn't figure why Jessica pushed it on him until he came across several familiar addresses, and a brief mention of a job as a mailroom clerk.
"He's from my side of town."
"And he worked his way from the bottom up, just like you."
Harvey frowned, skimming the immensely long list of the D.A.'s recent major caseworks, many of which he remembered being addressed in school. Murder trials, rape trials, drug trafficking and child abuse trials, all with a ninety-eight-percent conviction rate. It was unheard of. Even the court trials represented solely by his assistants had conviction rates in the ninetieth percentile.
"He's the best," Jessica said, as though reading his mind. "The man has never gone to trial without the intention of taking the defendant for everything they had. No deals, no light sentences, just a hell of a lot of badgering and a mouth that could convict Jesus Christ of loitering after the Romans nailed him to the cross."
Harvey took a long look at the far end of the resume that contained the D.A.'s earliest occupations, which were as meager as his own beginnings as a scruffy, self-hating mail clerk in the bowels of the firm, and then flipped back to the first page which boldly spelled out the impressive title of District Attorney. He glanced at the name above it, paused, then tugged his gaze up from the paper and offered Jessica a curious look. "How long am I going to be working for this guy?"
"That guy?" Jessica asked with a smile. "You'll be working for the District Attorney for as long as I say so."
"I have no experience other than a stint as a clerk for a federal judge. Does he know?"
Jessica's brow raised again. "He knows that you're a quick-thinking smart-mouth, and that you somehow argued your way through Harvard despite the half-dozen threats made by the professors to throw you out."
"Seven threats."
"That's what I'm talking about. Harvey, I gave you that opportunity because I knew that the day you grew up, stopped throwing temper tantrums, stopped getting into fights, and stopped slacking off and ignoring your potential, you would become one hell of a lawyer, and one hell of an addition to this firm. But to do all that, you need to gain real experience." Jessica motioned to the folder in Harvey's lap. "Cameron Dennis can give you that."
It would be a long time before Harvey would be able to decipher the complexities of human behavior, and break it down to the point where he could read a face a million times faster than he could words on paper. It would be even longer before he would be able to apply that skill to Jessica Pearson. But in that instant, when she uttered the name Cameron Dennis, he was struck by the minuscule but incredibly telling droplet of venom that sat on the edge of her tongue.
Confused and unsure, Harvey couldn't ask why.
"Just do the work," Jessica said sternly. "Rack up some brownie points with the office, earn yourself a few articles in the paper, and get your ass back here. By that time we'll have a better position for you than that of an entry-level associate, and you'll have the credentials to go with your smug son-of-bitch personality."
Harvey smirked in spite of the suspicion gathering in his gut. "Are you implying that my dashing good-looks aren't credential enough?"
"I'm sure Cameron will help you with that, too," Jessica commented playfully as she scanned his unruly attire. "On that note, shave and take some damn pride in yourself. Don't introduce yourself to the D.A. looking like you woke up in a hooker's bathtub."
"Now you're spying on me?"
"I'm serious, Harvey."
"Hey, it's done," he said, grinning and putting his hands up in mock surrender as she gave him a threatening, stone-cold stare. "I won't do anything to make you look bad, I promise. Just tell me this: in the event that I do gain all the experience that I need, and I blow every criminal defendant out of the water while under Dennis' supervision, can you guarantee that I'll have the opportunity to obtain a solid position at this firm and repay you for everything that you've done for me?"
Jessica offered him a small but sincere smile. "I'll do what I can."
"And as for working Dennis, how long are we talking? A year? Two?"
"Well... I suppose it depends."
The humor slipped from Harvey's face, but he kept the edges of his lips quirked as Jessica stood from her father's desk and began absent-mindedly regathering her papers. "Depends on what?"
She stopped, briefly locked eyes with him, then firmly stated, "On however long it takes for Cameron to make you a better man than he is."
Harvey's brows knit.
He remained seated as she plucked up her suit jacket off the back of her father's chair, gathered her things into the crook of her arm, and nodded a farewell that was accompanied by a pleasant smile. Harvey beamed sarcastically back at her until she had disappeared down the hall, and watched as she vanished behind a group of suits, abandoning him with Cameron Dennis' folder.
Outside, standing at the base of Pearson Hardman, Harvey breathed in the misty air that had settled over the Manhattan streets. He was already forgetting about Jessica, and with her, the firm, as the reality of what he was about to do sunk into his stomach like an anchor.
He was being made an Assistant District Attorney.
No solid experience, a mixed reputation at Harvard, and nothing going for him but Jessica's referrals and her unshaken faith, and he was being handed over to one of the most impressive attorneys in the state to be mentored and trained to become a real lawyer. The idea shook him from the moment it was proposed, and years later Harvey would look back on his reaction to the news with a grimace.
He had only tried to argue his way out of it, not because he was self-assured and believed the experience was unnecessary, but because he was secretly fucking terrified of it.
Cramming the hand that wasn't gripping the folder into his pocket, Harvey took another breath in effort to soothe the cocktail of fear and excitement that swirled in his gut, and stared down the road. A storm was on the horizon.