ONE
JUNE 16
Paul Braddock walked into Adam Mason’s office at 6:30 p.m. and immediately noticed that his partner wore a troubled expression. At six feet, two inches tall, Paul was ruggedly handsome. He had brown hair, a well-trimmed beard with occasional gray strands beginning to appear, and discerning blue eyes. “You okay?” Paul asked, sitting down in one of the visitor chairs across Adam’s desk.
“Yeah, just the weight of the work ahead,” he replied. “I have a lot to do.”
Paul looked at him questioningly. “We always have a lot to do. Since when did that become a problem?”
“I’ll be okay,” Adam replied, obviously not wanting to say anything more. Adam was five-eleven and just a little overweight. He had black hair, and his eyes were a warm brown. Adam's round face made him look younger than his age and harmless—the nice guy everyone wants to meet.
Paul furrowed his brow and asked, “You sure everything is all right?”
Adam slowly nodded. “I think it will be.”
Paul knew his partner well enough to know that there was an unspoken problem. He asked, “You and Chris doing all right?”
“Yeah, although we don’t see each other much these days. Between my crazy schedule
here and her counseling practice, we pass each other in the hallway on the way to or from something. Other than that, I think we’re okay.”
“How about you and Beth? You figure out how to make all the demands work?”
“Yep. So far,” Paul replied with a grin. “I know what you mean about the schedules. If I want to see Beth on a weekend, I usually have to visit an open house, but aside from that, we’re good.”
Adam smirked, and asked, “You guys ever have s*x in an open house?”
Paul grinned, widely. “I have good memories and nothing to say.”
The law firm of Braddock and Mason had emerged, or escaped, depending on your perspective, from one of the mega law firms that did everything. Dearborn and Carter boasted six hundred and fifty lawyers working under the same banner and who were, for the most part, complete strangers. After six and seven years in the trenches, respectively, Paul Braddock and Adam Mason wanted to leave the mega-firm behind to start their own practice. Paul was an employment litigator, defending major corporations and insurance companies against claims of harassment, discrimination, whistle-blowing, and wrongful termination. His goal was to switch teams and represent the employees whose lives were damaged by harassment, discrimination or retaliation. Adam was a lawyer and an MBA, who worked as a Finance, Banking and Investment specialist, ready to manage portfolios for the benefit of his own firm. Paul and Adam hit it off and started having coffee together five years into their tenure. They found commonality in their ability not to take themselves too seriously, and the desire to work for their own benefit.
Fourteen months ago, they gave their notice and Braddock and Mason opened on the fifteenth floor of a Wilshire Blvd high rise that was glass, steel, fifty stories, and just like a hundred others in Los Angeles. They still worked long hours, but now it was for their own benefit. In the last four months, Paul had settled a couple of contingency cases and Adam had taken on four new wealth management and investment clients. He had also been asked to set up the Walker Family Trust, and upon completion, was given the assignment of managing the thirty million dollars and sixteen properties it contained. After almost fourteen months in operation, they were making slightly more than they had been at Dearborn. It appeared that they had achieved the control of their lives that they so desperately wanted. They were in charge of their own future and the possibilities were endless. Illusions can take so many forms.