Life in the Big City

Life Just South of the Big City

With a weary sigh, a young woman with luxurious light brown hair streaked with blonde flopped down on a queen mattress between a pile of clothes on hangars and a box labeled “Stuff that goes with other stuff”. She fumbled absently behind her head for her purse, finally grabbed the strap, and pulled her wallet out. She pulled a twenty (her second to last one) out and lay patiently on the bed staring at the ceiling and hoping the air conditioning would take hold at some point and begin to cool the room when there was a knock on her door. She forced herself to get up and navigated the maze of boxes and bags and cases that littered the floor. She checked through the peephole, unlocked the door, and smiled at her Savior.
He was maybe 17, handsome in that pimply-faced, college freshman way, and best of all, he had her pizza. He read off the ticket attached to the warmer bag.
“Medium pizza and breadsticks and sauce?”
He looked up and his eyes popped, and then Chris realized what she must look like. She was wearing a gray half shirt that said “Property of”. The remaining half which indicated to which major league franchise she belonged was a distant memory. The length of the shirt did little to hide the bottom of her dark scarlet, satin bra, and her flat stomach gleamed with sweat. Her jean shorts were just that also showing evidence of some rather daring scissors work sometime in the past, and her lithe legs seemed to go on pretty much forever down to toes painted with Scarlet Pumpernickel.
She mentally shrugged and held out the $20. He continued to stare at her legs until she coughed lightly and flashed the smile that when coupled with her bluer than blue eyes made men throw their underwear at her. He could stand the smile for only a minute and looked down at the ticket again.
“Ummm. It’s $12.80.”
She wiggled the twenty again and laughed.
“Just give me $5 back, and tell me if there’s a place around here that sells grape soda. Crush if they have it.”
He slipped the two boxes and one plastic container filled with marinara sauce out of the warmer bag, handed it to her, took the money, and fumbled for a $5 which he gave to her. As she turned back into her apartment and set the pizza down on a box, he watched her shorts ride the rest of the way up her tight buns.
“Umm. Foster’s is around the corner on Commonwealth. They’ve got a lot of stuff…beer, pop, snacks. I don’t know if they have any grape soda though.”
He stood there staring at her and then blinked his eyes.
“Thanks for the tip.”
Chris smiled and stepped back into her apartment.
“You’re welcome. Nite.”
Chris closed the door and giggled. She grabbed the pizza, breadsticks, and sauce, detoured once to the kitchen for a cold beer and kicked a pile of pillows together in front of the soon-to-be- bedroom TV which sat precariously atop one of her bulging suitcases. As she devoured the first piece, she flipped on the TV thankful that her apartment building had its own cable setup. ESPN’s game of the week was her beloved Yankees and the hated Red Sox. She rotated pizza, breadsticks, sauce, and beer careful to give each its proper due as she watched the altogether too cute Andy Pettitte spin a masterful 3 hit shut out.
With a stifled yawn, she clicked off the TV, left the empty boxes to cure overnight on the floor, and carefully removed a suit from one of her garment bags. It was a standard business suit in dark grey and was none the worse for the trip in from North Carolina. She located the suitcase with her work blouses, selected a pale scarlet one in shimmering silk, and hung the entire ensemble on a hook on the back of the bathroom door.
She pushed the box and clothes to one side of the mattress, threw down some sheets and a blanket, and returned to the bathroom for her nightly cleansing. In 10 short minutes, she was clad in loose fitting boxers emblazoned with a Denver Broncos logo (a gift from a friend of hers who thought he was funny) and an oversized scarlet t-shirt. She flipped off the lights, tripped over a box, and landed in bed with a sore toe. She rubbed it a few times and then lay back to stare at the ceiling.
“Welcome to the little city just south of the big city, Christine. I hope you know what you’re doing.”
She lay there waiting for sleep to come and then sat bolt upright.
“Shit. No wonder I can’t sleep.”
She stumbled over the same box, this time cursing its rather dubious ancestry, and flipped the lights back on. She rummaged through a few boxes before locating a delicate porcelain doll with soft brown curls. She set the doll on the pile of clothes to her left on the mattress.
“Hope you didn’t suffocate in there. So tell me, is moving to San Antonio a mistake?”
The doll didn’t answer.
“I had to get out of Davis and Davis. The Old Boy network was killing me.”
The doll looked at her and seemed to nod.
“Walters, Richards, and Van Dyne has a reputation for treating all of its lawyers well.”
The doll smiled.
“So it WAS the right move. Cool.”
Chris rolled over and was soon asleep dreaming very few champagne wishes but at least one caviar dream.


Morning came earlier that it had any right to, and Chris spent an inordinate amount of time in shower letting the hot water beat some of the post-moving stiffness out of her muscles and joints. It didn’t work. Freshly washed and dried and smelling just ever so slightly of an exotic tropical scent, Chris grabbed her suitcase and purse and left her cluttered apartment for her first day as a big city Texas lawyer. Her car was a brand new Dodge Avenger purchased with the last of her savings before she left North Carolina.
She pulled a folded sheet of directions with the clever Walters, Richards, and Van Dyne logo on the top. They were precise and easy to follow, and in about thirty minutes, she was standing feeling a little out of place in the reception area of her new workplace. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, marched resolutely (or as resolutely one can march in heels) towards the receptionist, and put on a businesslike smile.
The receptionist looked up and smiled back. They dueled for just a moment upping the wattage on their smiles until they both either put on sunglasses or gave in. With a giggle, Chris extended her hand.
“I’m Christine Maye. I’m supposed to meet with Jen Walters.”
The receptionist shook her hand and stood up.
“She’s waiting for you in her office.”
Seeing the look of horror on Christine’s face, she put a hand on her arm and laughed.
“No no. You’re not late. She’s in here every morning at 6 am. The schedule says 8:30, and that’s what she meant. She likes to come in early and go home early if possible to meet her daughter when she comes home from school.”
The receptionist guided her back into the offices which were done in a beech and anodized steel and aluminum with a profusion of leafy plants, bright prints on the walls, and floor to ceiling windows everywhere. They stopped in front of an open door.
“Oh, by the way, I’m Angelica Howard, but call me Angie please. Good luck.”
Chris smiled at her and then knocked on the open door. A very tall, dark-haired woman with a statuesque figure stood up from behind her desk. She motioned Chris into her office and gave her a warm smile and firm handshake.
“Welcome to San Antonio, Chris. Did you get settled in ok?”
Chris set her briefcase and purse down next to a comfortable chair covered in forest green fabric. Jen sat down next to her in a similar chair in canary yellow.
“Yes, thank you. The movers were quite efficient. I was ready to start unpacking by 7 last nite. I didn’t start, but at least I was ready to.”
Jen smiled, leaned over to her desk, pulled a folder off the corner, set it back down, and stood up.
“Oh before we get started, I should give you a tour and introduce you to a few important people.”
Chris stood up and followed her out of the office.
It was a lengthy tour as Walters, Richards, and Van Dyne was one of San Antonio’s largest and most wealthy firms, but Jen kept it lively offering personal asides and harmless office gossip about a wide variety of people. By the time they returned to her office, Chris knew the three most important people: Angie who screened everyone before they entered the Inner Sanctum, Jack, the copy guy, and Jessie, their most effective researcher and unofficial librarian.
“Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea, pop?”
Chris smiled and nodded.
“I’d kill for a grape soda, but Coke will be fine if you don’t have it.”
Jen laughed and disappeared for a minute. She returned carrying a plate of fresh pastries and two cans of pop, one Diet Coke and a Crush Grape Soda.
Chris, feeling completely at ease now, laughed as she accepted the soda. Jen pulled a small table between them, set the plate and her drink on there, and grabbed her folder again. She opened the folder and got Chris through a host of paper signings, office procedures, and various rules and regulations that distinguished Texas law from North Carolina law. 3 hours later, Jen snapped the folder shut, handed pertinent copies to Chris, and stood up and stretched.
“Lunch? I’ve thrown a lot at you today, so if you want to, we’ll go out, my treat, come back and get you settled in your office, and throw your first cases your way tomorrow.”
Chris nodded.
“Jen, thank you for taking the time to make me feel so at home here. This is a big change from Davis and Davis.”
Jen smiled and gave her a quick hug which surprised her a bit.
“I’ve got a secret to share with you. When I first saw your resum?nd qualifications and realized you worked for those bastards, pardon my language, I knew you would fit in perfect here.”
Chris looked at her quizzically.
“You knew them before you hired me?”
Jen smiled a naughty smile.
“You bet. I’m the former Mrs. William James Davis III.”
Chris looked at her in shock.
“Will used to be a decent guy until he started working closely with his brother. But he changed. I divorced him, moved here with two other lawyers, and started our own firm. You’re the perfect hire: eminently qualified, and we get you out of that hellhole.”
Chris laughed as they walked out towards the elevators. Angie and Janet Van Dyne joined them, and they had a nice, friendly lunch at the caf?n the ground floor of their building.


Back in her own office after lunch, Chris read through the sheaf of papers Jen had given her, made some notes on a legal pad, unpacked the few office supply things from her briefcase that she had brought with her, and made several runs to the office storeroom to get pads, pens, paper clips, and all the other disposables. At 4:50, a very cute young man stopped by and slid her freshly minted nameplate into the slot on her doorway, stopped to gawk at her for a second, and then turned and left.
Chris raised her eyebrows and smiled.
“They sure grow ‘em cute here in Texas.”
She read through her notes one more time, tidied her desk, and headed for the door. Angie was shutting down her computer as she walked by.
“Hey, Chris. You need somebody to show you around town? I’ll be happy to do it.”
Chris smiled and shook her head.
“Maybe tomorrow night? I want to get as much unpacked and in place tonight as I can.”
Angie smiled.
“Fair enough. Let me know if you want to, and I’ll give you the 25 cent tour.”
Chris giggled.
“What’s on the fifty cent tour?”
“Oh then I show you where all the cute guys hang out.”
Chris fished in her wallet and pulled out two quarters.
“I can pay in advance, right?”
Angie laughed, and they took the elevator down to the parking garage together.



Chris spent an annoying hour in traffic and finally made it home. Her apartment was pleasantly cool. Another benefit of this building was that they paid for the air conditioning. Chris reminded herself to thank Sue Richards for getting her in. She looked at the jumble of boxes and sighed.
“Looks like a four to six beer job at least.”
She dumped her stuff off beside the door and stripped out of her work clothes. She carefully hung the suit and blouse in her wholly empty closet and set the heels on the shoe caddy which was maybe the only thing in the right place in her apartment. Clad only in a scarlet cotton bra and matching undies, she pawed through her suitcases until she found a battered old t-shirt from her pre-law school days. She wriggled into the Friendly’s promo shirt and slid on a pair of cotton shorts. She padded to the fridge, grabbed a Corona, and went back into the bedroom to begin the torture.
As it turned out, she overestimated the number of beers. (The one with dinner didn’t count.) So, feeling pleasantly happy and tired, Chris slid between the sheets in her fully-furnished and decorated apartment and fell asleep. Her first “real” day was a nice return to normalcy, and at the end of the day, she had that satisfied feeling that she always got from digging into a case and getting her hands dirty. She had decided to beg off of Angie’s tour one more day pleading post-moving exhaustion.
Her father had emailed her a housewarming present that previous night, a box seat ticket at the Will Call window to the Rangers-Yankee game on the first baseline. It was a pretty ugly drive to Arlington, but she figured she could make it. Jen was more than happy to let her go early especially seeing how much work she had accomplished already on her first case, and so at 2:30, she was on the road headed for the ballpark.
She got there just barely in time for the first pitch and had just enough time to pee and grab a hot dog. She settled back into the seat wearing a scarlet sleeveless blouse and white cotton shorts. Her hair was pulled up in a coed style pony tail, and she soaked in the sights and smells.
“Excuse me. Can I slip through?”
Chris looked up (into the sun) and was instantly blinded. She shielded her eyes as she tucked her legs closer to the seat. A tall man with wavy, blonde hair inched around her and sat two seats down.
“Thank you.”
Chris smiled and turned back to the game, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye. He was boyishly handsome with cute dimples on his cheeks. He was wearing a Rodriguez jersey, a beaten Rangers cap, and well worn blue jeans. He saw her peeking at him while he was peeking at her, and they both turned away pretending to look at something else.
Knoblauch singled. Chris cheered. The man looked at her and smiled. He spoke in a mild southern drawl that was both annoying and endearing.
“You Yankees sure are brazen…comin’ down to Texasssss and cheerin’ like y’all do.”
Chris smiled and stuck her tongue out.
“I’m a southern belle transplanted from New Jersey by way of North Carolina.”
He laughed, and they lapsed into silence, occasionally peeking at each other surreptitiously. Several innings passed by. Chris ordered a beer and peanuts from the vendor. The blonde man had nachos. In the third, Gonzalez homered. Chris booed.
“Awww c’mon now, missy. That there was an impressive homer.”
Chris smiled.
“Been more impressive if Bernie Williams had hit it.”
He laughed at her and turned back to the game. They bantered on and off for another two innings when he leaned across the empty seat and held out his hand.
“Ash Braintree.”
Chris shook his hand.
“Scarlet O’Hara.”
“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn…who’s sitting here.”
He stood up and slipped into the seat next to her as Chris laughed.
“I’m Christine. Christine Maye.”
He smiled, and they lapsed into silence again. Chris broke the ice again.
“What do you do besides come to ballpark and harass innocent young women?
Ash laughed.
“I’m a Professor of Agriculture at SACC.”
“SACC?”
“San Antonio Community College. North of town. We’ve got about 3000 students mostly Associates degree stuff, but we do some research in farming. How ‘bout you, Miss Scarlet?”
“I’m a trial lawyer. I just got hired in at a firm in downtown San Antonio. In fact today was my second day.”
“Congratulations. Which firm?”
“Walters, Richards, and Van Dyne.”
“Hunh. Never heard of ‘em. Listen, you wanna get some dinner after the game? Hot dogs and nachos do not fill up Mrs. Braintree’s little boy.”
Chris shook her head.
“No thanks. I’ve got to get back and review some notes tonight. I’ve got a client meeting tomorrow.”
Ash tried to hide the disappointment and smiled at her.
“Okay, but I should warn you. You’re missin’ out. Sally’s has about the best steaks in this part of Texas, and that’s sayin’ somethin’.”
Chris smiled as the last out was recorded.
“I’m sure. I’ve got a lot of work to do tonite.”
Ash held out his hand.
“Nice to meet ya, Miss Maye.”
“Call me Christine or Chris, please, and yes it was nice to meet you too. Bye, Ash.”
Chris turned to go up the concrete stairs, and Ash watched her tight behind wiggle in her shorts.
“Walters, Richards, and Van Dyne. I best remember that.”


The drive home seemed considerably shorter as she always had a feeling of wholeness when she went out alone like she didn’t always need someone to enjoy herself. She barely gave Ash another thought the whole trip home and was in bed and fast asleep almost immediately. Morning came on time the next day neither too early or too late, and she was at her desk prepping for her client interview when the partner who had hired her knocked on her door. Sue Richards was small, blonde, and curvy where Jen Walters was tall, brunette, and statuesque.
“Chris, I just wanted to go over your strategy a little before Mrs. Walker got here.”
Chris looked a bit worried and furrowed her brow. Sue laughed.
“Oh, not like that, Chris. We don’t micro-manage. We hired you to be a trial lawyer, and we trust you, but it’s helpful to bounce ideas off of other people just in case you miss an important angle.”
Chris smiled back and pulled out her notes. They spent a short half hour going over her angle of attack and refining a few of the questions she was planning on asking before Sue stood up and offered her her hand.
“I’m impressed, Chris. You’ve got a couple of good lines of questioning and a good start on a defense. I think we made the right move hiring you. Good luck.”
Sue got up and walked out, and Chris pushed her chair back with a whoosh.
“This is too good to be true.”
Sue popped her head back in and smiled.
“That was EXACTLY the motto we started the firm under. Well, it was more like, ‘We’re going to be just the opposite of bastards like Davis and Davis.’, but you get the idea.”
Chris started laughing and was still giggling when her first client was shown to her door. She gave a professional, caring interview that really set her client at ease and gathered what she thought she needed for a solid defense. The rest of that day and the next few were similar. Each of the partners made a point of stopping by every day or two if for nothing more than five minutes for a status report or just to chat, and Angie’s tour of the city was more than she had hoped for. Angie was engaging and funny, kind and caring, and she figured she had the start on a good long-term friendship.
One week after the ballgame, Angie buzzed her office.
“Chris, there’s a guy out here that SAYS he’s a client of yours, but he’s not on the list.”
Chris furrowed her brow.
“Who is it? I’m not expecting anyone new today.”
Angie delivered the next line in a cheesy southern drawl.
“Oh, get this. I do declayah, but if it isn’t Rhett Butler.”
Chris actually looked at the receiver.
“What the hell?”
Angie laughed.
“Don’t worry hon. I’ll show him the door.”
Chris put the phone down in the cradle, sat at her desk with an expression of bewilderment on her face, and then jumped out of her seat. She ran out of her office nearly ripping the heels off her favorite heels and found Angie glaring at Ash who was refusing to leave quietly.
“It’s ok Angie. I do know him.”
Ash smiled at her and held out an impressive bouquet of wildflowers.
“Y’all got some tight security. Miss Annngellllica Howard here wouldn’t let me in without an appointment.”
Chris accepted the flowers and fixed him with a dirty glare.
“It’s company policy.