California Fire And Life

88

Paul Gordon is making his case in front of Judge John Bickford.

Actually, he's not so much making his case as he is leaving his case, the case in question being a Halliburton attach with twenty K in cash inside.

See, they're seated at this banquette at the Rusty Pelican in Newport Beach, and Gordon has the case underneath the table by his leg, and he and Bickford are discussing an element of the law.

"I'll be filing suit against Cal Fire and Life," Gordon's telling him. "You're going to get the case."

"If it comes up in my rotation," Bickford says.

"It will come up in your rotation," Gordon says.

The assigning judge having been on three fishing trips down on the Mexican coast on Gordon's boat. Fishing trips, Dodgers tickets, a "legal seminar" in Italy compliments of Gordon's firm… the case will get assigned where it's supposed to get assigned.

Gordon says, "Tom Casey's going to come whining to you about a discovery issue involving a claims adjuster's prior record. He'll ask you to exclude all discovery prior to the adjuster's handling of the file in suit."

"And?"

"And I'd like you to consider denying that motion."

Bickford sips his scotch. He's sixty-five years old, retirement looms, and judges do not make the kind of money, say, plaintiff's attorneys do. Mrs. Bickford has skin cancer…

Bickford asks, "Are you writing me a brief?"

"It's in the case."

"How many pages?"

"Twenty."

Bickford sets his glass down. "That's not very long."

"Standard," Gordon says.

"But this is a big case for you, Paul," Bickford says. "I would think you'd want to write more. Nail down every point."

"Twenty's always been good enough in the past," Gordon says. Like, Don't jerk me around at this stage of the game. I own you, you old bastard.

"The past," Bickford says, "is a fleeting dream. An insubstantial thing."

Like twenty large of my money is now insubstantial? Gordon asks himself.

"You know," Gordon says, "you might be right. Maybe another judge will catch this case."

Bickford sighs. It's one thing to acknowledge yourself a whore. To acknowledge yourself a cheap whore is yet another level of self-abasement. And yet the money is needed.

"Twenty pages should be adequate to make a persuasive argument," Bickford says.

"Thank you for your consideration," Gordon says. He finishes his drink and gets up. He doesn't have the case with him when he walks out.

Judge John Bickford orders another scotch. Sits for a long time and watches the boats bob against their slips in the harbor.

He remembers when he believed in the law.