A Famously Bad Contract Read online

  Chapter 1

  “Damn, Lucas. If you keep that up you’ll be able to deadlift a car.”

  I glanced over at my spotter as I hefted the weights back into place on my shoulders and then dropped them with a clang so loud it bounced back at me from the gray cement walls of the gym. The giant standing next to me probably could have lifted a truck. Though I’d expect that of any professional linebacker, especially one for the Miami Dolphins.

  He laughed as I grabbed my sweat towel and stepped aside. I was done for the day. My water tasted sweeter and crisper than ever as I sucked it down in large gulps. By the time I’d polished off my bottle, the massive football player had finished adding more weights and had taken my spot on the floor. I stretched a bit as I watched him go through the first of his sets with ever increasing grunts of frustration. He was up to 350 lbs versus my measly 250 lbs.

  “Don’t you have some courtroom to be in?” he huffed after the bar hit the ground with another resounding thud. “Or do you just want to sit around and stare at me all day?”

  He laughed and then squatted down to pick up the bar again.

  I watched as he strained to get it up over his shoulders, his face turning bright red, and his chest puffing out with the effort. It took a second longer than I was comfortable with, but he managed to finish the lift without too much trouble, straightened his back, and then stretched a bit as he took a break before his next set. I glanced at the guy next to us, another friend who gave me a nod to let me know he’d be watching just in case the giant tried to push himself too hard.

  “Try no to hurt yourself,” I said. “I’ve got money on your next game.”

  He snorted and then hefted the weight while I retreated to the locker room.

  There were a few stragglers when I walked in, most of them other members of the Dolphins, though there were a few hockey players in the mix as well.

  The smell of sweat and antiseptic clung to every inch of the place, and I felt my nose wrinkle in response. I bobbed my head as I walked past a few people that I knew, but I didn’t stop to talk to any of them since I figured that conversation could wait until I had washed off the stink of my workout.

  Once I was under the stream of hot water, I didn’t want to move again so my shower took twice as long as it should have. My muscles ached, and I knew I would have to go to yoga tomorrow to make sure I was stretching out. A smile pulled on my lips as I thought of seeing my instructor. She was very attentive the last time I went, and with those long legs and bright blue eyes, I was more than willing to have her special attention.

  The sound of someone turning on the shower next to mine brought me out of my daydream, and I finally turned off the hot water, wrapped myself in my towel, and retreated to my locker. I started to get dressed and I noticed that my favorite black slacks were filling more than usual since I’d upped my squat cap. If my thighs got any bigger I was going to have to see my tailor, but for now, the pressed crease was still visible so it wasn’t quite time to go see the old man. I slid on a pristine long-sleeved white shirt and ran some styling wax through my undercut until my black hair was a bit more manageable, and I was finally presentable enough to be in front of clients.

  I threw the sweaty gym clothes into my duffel then swung it over my shoulder. A few of my clients were scattered on the floor doing their own workouts as I strolled out. They gave me the usual nods but thankfully didn’t stop me to ask for help on some legal conundrum they’d found themselves in. It was looking like another boring day at the office was ahead of me.

  The sun was hardly over the horizon, but the Florida heat was already baking the asphalt of the parking lot. The leather seats in my Mercedes SLC Roadster nearly scorched me as I sat down, so I left the roof up while I blasted the air conditioner.

  Lucky for me, the MacArthur Causeway wasn’t packed just yet, and I breezed over the bridge with ease. The water underneath glittered like someone had spilled diamonds into the deep blue water. Another perfect day in Miami. I was tempted to stop and get a coffee at my favorite shop, but there was a pile of paperwork calling my name. And if I didn’t hurry, my paralegal, Kitty Owens, would be, too.

  Her bright red minivan was already parked in her usual spot when I swung into the parking lot of my office. My name was emblazoned on the front door, and I always felt a thrill of excitement when I saw it. Lucas Morales, Attorney at Law glinted at me in thick glossy letters, and I smiled to myself as I watched it shine in the harsh sunlight. The blinds to my office were still closed, but my paralegal, Kitty, had opened the shades for the reception area. I could clearly see the bright blue dress Kitty was wearing as she walked across the carpeted floor with a stack of papers and went into my office.

  The building I had claimed as my office was built like it could be out of a movie from Cuba with its square white walls and awnings that covered the windows in an effort to keep out at least some of the sun. There were a few steps painted the same cream color as the rest of the building that led up to glass double doors with golden frames. Just below the roofline was one long frieze carved with a sunset over the beach and palm trees that looked like they might be swaying in a breeze.

  I sighed then grabbed my jacket and briefcase. No point putting it off any longer. Maybe if I was lucky, one of my clients would have something come up, and I could take a break from the endless reams of property closures, contracts, and ridiculous lawsuits that people liked to file against anyone with fame or fortune. The latter at least were amusing. One of my clients was currently being sued for not having asked a girl out at a bar after she bought him a drink. He was married, but that didn’t seem to matter to her.

  “About time you showed up,” Kitty teased as I walked in.

  “Good morning to you, too,” I said as I sniffed the air then grinned when I smelled my favorite Cuban roast brewing. “You are too good for me.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” she said. “Maybe remind my husband, too.”

  She laughed and waved her manicured fingers as she sauntered behind her desk. Even at half a foot shorter than me she took up the entire office with the soft smell of her jasmine perfume and bright smile. The red highlights in her long, curly brown hair went perfectly with the bright crimson lipstick she always wore. Her vibrant blue dress hugged her pear-shaped hips while giving her small breasts the appearance of being bigger than they were. True, some of the flashy colors she wore could be a bit much, but I could overlook that as long as it wasn’t too daring. The long nails she insisted on keeping with crazy patterns toed the line of being unprofessional, no matter how seasonal or expensive they were. Of course, the last time I mentioned it, I had been lectured for an hour, and she left early. Apparently she had to counter my boring wardrobe with some pizazz, though why that meant she needed a beach scene on each nail still wasn’t clear to me.

  The rest of the office was tame compared to my paralegal’s intensity with its beige-colored walls. A few black chairs with short backs and small cushions were staged near the window and a square coffee table on either end with the latest gossip magazines for anyone who might have to wait to see me. The paintings on the walls were of the Miami skyline at night in shades of black, white, and gray with only a hint of dark blues to add some kind of color. My brown-haired paralegal was truly the bright spot in an otherwise mundane space.

  I set my briefcase down on my desk then made my way to our little kitchenette. The office was a little big for just the two of us but the extra space was perfect for conferences and storage. When I became a lawyer for my former teammates on the Dolphins, I hadn’t expected there to be so much paperwork. Sometimes I missed being out on the field with them, but then my knee would ache, and they’d bring me some interesting legal questions t
o sink my teeth into, and I would love my job as a lawyer all over again.

  The coffee was black and thick as I poured it into my small coffee mug. Cuban coffee should always be taken in smaller doses. When I was younger I made the mistake of telling my abuela I needed a giant mug of the steaming liquid. I didn’t sleep for a whole day, and my stomach was upset for a week. She had just laughed, and then she told me I had learned my lesson.

  “Anything I need to know?” I asked Kitty as I came back out and set a small white porcelain mug in front of her.

  “You forgot the cream,” she said as she took a sip and grimaced.

  “That’s not how you drink Cuban coffee,” I replied.

  “Cafe con leche,” she countered.

  I lifted an eyebrow as I stared at her.

  She huffed then turned back to her computer, and her fingers flew across the keyboard as she pulled up a few case files. She narrowed it down to a lawsuit for one of my model clients who was being sued by her neighbor for blasting loud music at all hours. Conveniently, my sleuth of a paralegal had found proof that my client was out of town when the old woman said she had heard the racket.

  “This should be finished today,” Kitty informed me while closing the file, “I just need you to review it before I send it over to the other lawyer.”

  “I’ll get on that right away,” I said and then sipped my own coffee. “Anything else?”

  “Not yet,” she said.

  “You know where to find me,” I replied.

  The inbox on my desk was stacked with invoices to review, contracts for my clients, and paperwork I needed to finalize. I avoided it for a little while longer as I booted up my computer.

  Kitty must have opened the blinds while I was getting the coffee because the road outside distracted me from the login screen. If I looked just right I could see the beach through the other office buildings and restaurants.

  I downed the last of the caffeinated drink, put in my password, and pulled up my email. Nothing too urgent. There was an invitation to a black tie event in a few weeks, which translated to actors and actresses trying to gain support for their latest causes while I tried to gain some new clientele. I would have to make an appearance, but the confirmation could wait a little longer. Sometimes I was still amazed how lucky I had been to find myself with celebrity clients, all of it thanks to my ex-teammates with the Miami Dolphins and the advice I was able to give them while still in law school.

  With a sigh, I pulled over the file my feisty paralegal had put on top of the stack with a note informing me that it was top priority. Inside, she had all of the evidence gathered to exonerate my client of the noise complaint charge along with a not so subtle warning letter that if the woman continued to harass my client we would be filing a nuisance charge of our own. A low chuckle rumbled from my chest as I read over everything.

  Kitty was definitely not one to play with. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she had some Cuban blood in her, but she was as pale as the snow in that small town in Michigan that she came from. She’d come into my life when one of my buddies had told me that a friend of his had a wife studying to be a paralegal. I didn’t know what I had expected when I agreed to meet with her, but the whirlwind that came into my office declaring she was my new employee even before the interview began was not it.

  I put my signature on the first file then set it aside and started on the next. Hours passed in the same way as I worked my way through the stack of folders. At some point, my coffee cup was replaced with a water bottle, and I still didn’t make much of a dent in the pile.

  My legs were going numb from sitting for so long, so I stood to walk around the room, the movement helping my mind to refocus on the tedious contract I was reading. It was just another commercial for an athlete client that informed us my client would only be seen drinking that specific energy drink for the six months his specific commercial would be running. It was nothing new for me or my client, and as soon as I finished it I walked it over to Kitty with my approval, she didn’t even look up as I set it in her inbox. The next few files proved to be just as boring, so I kept up my leisurely walking in an effort to stay awake without another cup of coffee.

  The ringing of my phone startled me out of my pacing as I read a property agreement for a new house. It was my landline, which hardly anyone used. Usually, only salesmen called the number, and Kitty would turn them away. I glanced toward the door to see Kitty typing away, though she spared me an irritated glance as the ringing continued. Clearly the call was for me.

  “Office of Lucas Morales,” I answered.

  “Mr. Morales,” a woman’s voice purred into the other end. She sounded young, though over the phone I had learned I was not a good judge of age. She could have been anywhere from her early twenties to her late forties, but there wasn’t the gravely tone that accompanied a smoker. At the very least she sounded like she might be attractive, maybe with dark red hair and high cheekbones, but I suspected I might have been projecting.

  I tried to place the voice but it was unfamiliar despite my being able to picture a woman with her nails done and dark red lipstick that matched the shade of her hair. My chair groaned as I eased down into it, filtering through the women I knew in rapid succession as I attempted to figure out where I had met her and how she had gotten my number. I hadn’t been out to the bars with any of my clients in months, though I had gone to a gala recently, but she didn’t sound like the type that would enjoy fine artwork and champagne.

  “This is Tina from the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino,” the woman added when I didn’t respond.

  I waited for her to continue but it seemed like she was done. Scenarios started flying through my head. It was only one in the afternoon so it was unlikely any of my clients had gotten into trouble just yet. That meant something had probably happened last night, even though it had been a weekday. I tried to do a quick checklist of who might have gone out partying during the middle of the week. I had seen a few of them at the gym, and the models were off on a photoshoot, so that left the actors.

  “What may I help you with?” I asked when the silence grew.

  “I’m calling in regards to your client, Seth Brown.”

  Of course. I held in a sigh as I ran a hand over my face. That kid had a knack for getting himself into trouble when he was stressed, and he had just gotten back from his latest movie set. Hopefully, he hadn’t caused any property damage. Or gotten caught on tape doing something that might breach his contract with Disney, though I had done my best to limit morality clauses.

  “What can I do for you?” I let a little charm flow into my voice.

  “Well, Mr. Morales,” the woman on the other line drawled, and I could almost picture her tucking her hair behind her ear as she leaned closer to the receiver. “I am so sorry to inform you, but your client seems to have run out on a marker.”

  “I apologize for that inconvenience,” I said as I leaned back in my chair. “I hope it hasn’t put a damper on your day.”

  “Oh, no!” she chirped. “You know, I was a big fan of yours when you were on the Dolphins.”

  Perfect. Fans were always more willing to help me when I needed it, and if Seth had run out on a marker I was going to need some leniency with the repayment plan. If I was lucky, she might actually be as pretty as I imagined, and I could get a date out of the deal as well.

  “Really?” I asked modestly. “Well, maybe I can sign an autograph for you.”

  “That would be amazing!” she replied.

  “Anything for a fan,” I grinned. “How about I get my client and come in this afternoon to take care of that marker? What time do you get off work?”

  “Oh, I’m here until six,” she said. “Maybe after you’re done you can take me out for dinner, too?”

  “I think that can be arranged,” I said. “As long as I can get my client squared away. You’ll have everything ready when we get there?”

  “Oh, yes,” she agreed.

  “P
erfect,” I said. “I can hardly wait to see you.”

  She giggled then disconnected the line with a hasty goodbye.

  I let out the sigh I’d been holding in and leaned forward to click the mouse while on my phone and bring my computer screen back to the login screen where the time blazed back at me. There was no telling how much that marker had been for, but knowing my client, it was more than he could afford. I would have to work out a payment plan, but Tina would be easy enough to convince.

  “Kitty?” I called out.

  The pear-shaped paralegal popped her curly head in with a smile so big I knew she had been listening in. The twinkle in her eyes told me she was going to be teasing me about the woman from the casino for at least the afternoon if not the entire week. She leaned against the doorframe, her skirt pulling against her hips as she rested all of her weight on one foot, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Yes, Mr. Morales?” She imitated Tina’s breathy tone to perfection.

  “Can you draft a payment agreement?” I asked. “Something that Seth will actually be able to pay. In twelve monthly installments, if possible.”

  “You don’t know how much the marker is for,” she pointed out.

  “No, but just assume it's between twenty and fifty grand” I said. “I should have enough liquid cash to cover up to twenty-thousand dollars, but can you double-check for me?”

  She whistled then nodded her head. “Last I checked you had about that much available,” she said. “I will still make sure, though, and come up with some options.”

  It wasn’t anything new for her to come up with multiple options, whether that was for a repayment or properties my clients might want to purchase. She was the best at what she did, and I knew that she’d make short order of going through his financials, maybe even coming up with something for the highest markers the casino gave out. I hoped my client wouldn’t have been dumb enough to take out anything more than fifty-thousand, but if he was on a bender there was no telling how reckless he had gotten. At least Tina hadn’t mentioned property damage to go along with skipping out on his debt.