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2846 Words
Naomi followed at his side with a huge smile. Watching him work was a thing of beauty the way he tore apart their entire case. Poking holes in all their so-called evidence. “You are good.” She said as they reached the parking lot. “You are really good.” She was positively giddy. “You weren’t pulling any punches. And you brought up some really good points. I’m so glad you’re on our side.”
“If we’re lucky they’ll re-evaluate the case and this thing won’t go to trial.” He said opening the passenger door to his car. “Have you had dinner?”
“No.”
“Me neither. I’m starving let’s get a bite and talk.” Naomi got in and watched as he walked around the front of the car to get in behind the wheel. He placed his briefcase beside her feet.
“So just how many cases have you won?” She asked curiously.
He smiled awkwardly. “This is my first case.”
She didn’t understand. “What do you mean this is your first case?”
“Well not my first I’ve got a few misdemeanours through the firm, but I only passed the Bar four months ago.”
That couldn’t be true, if it was that was horrific, her brother’s life was in the hands of an amateur? “You’re kidding right?” She asked hopefully.
“No, I’m serious, but I finished first in my class.” He said trying to reassure her he was competent. “Seven years at Harvard Law. I have a Masters of Law and a Doctorate of Juridical Science. I’m more than qualified.”
“I don’t understand. How can you afford this car if you’re not an established lawyer with a great track record?”
“It was a gift from my parents when I graduated high school.” He explained.
He had to be messing with her. “What did they give you when you graduated university?”
“A penthouse with a Central Park view.” He said with all seriousness.
“Who the hell are your parents?”
He made a face like he didn’t want to tell her but then he spoke. “You ever hear of FX?” She had it was a classic punk rock band that had retired well over a decade ago. She couldn’t remember just who was in it though. “My Father was their drummer, now he’s retired from the stage, but he owns and operates Blue Moon Records and Chase Recordings.”
“Your father was a rock star? Seriously?”
“And my Mother was a ballerina; she now owns the Utopia Ballet Company.”
Naomi’s jaw dropped. She knew that company. It was one of the best, every young ballerina dreamed of one day dancing for them. “Your mother is Eve Sanchez?” She hadn’t put the two together until now. She hadn’t realized Brandon Sanchez was one of the Sanchez. A very influential and well-connected family in the state of New York. They were pillars of the high society. Part of the who’s who of the big apple. This was the Brandon Sanchez, and he was working for her family for free. She had lucked out when he came into her family’s restaurant. His family was well known for giving to charity, but this was above and beyond the call of duty.
“Thank you.” She said feeling blessed by his assistance.
“For what?”
“For helping us. I know you didn’t have to. I can’t stress how grateful we are to you.”
“I’m happy to help.” He said with a smile. She believed him.
“Let’s go back to the restaurant. I’m sure my Father would be happy to make you something to eat.” She suggested.
“I was thinking someplace a little quieter, where I can think.” He said turning down the next avenue. “Do you like Italian?”
“Yes.”
“Great I know the perfect spot.” They drove to the better side of town and pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant with a name she couldn’t pronounce. It was something In Italian. “It means Pasta Palace,” Brandon explained when she conjectured on the name.
“You speak Italian?” She asked as he held open the door for her.
“I speak many languages. I travel a lot, so you tend to pick things up.”
“So, I suppose you are what one gets when one can afford the best education.” She said as they went inside.
“Not really I know lots of people that can afford the education and are still halfwits. The education is only good when one is smart enough to know how to use it.” They walked up to the host stand, and Brandon smiled at the host. “Hello Angelo, how’s the wife?” Naomi was impressed he knew the host by name.
“Very good Sir and how is school, you off for the summer?” The middle-aged man asked. He was dressed in a black uniform; black slacks, black shirt, black tie. His dark hair was short and tidy, and even his fingernails seemed manicured. He was perfectly presentable in every way. This place must have had very high standards.
“I’ve graduated. I’m now working for a firm in New York.”
“That is wonderful now I know where to go if I ever need a good lawyer.” The host teased.
Brandon just smiled. “Angelo let me introduce you to Miss. Naomi Lee. She’s assisting me on a murder case.”
“Murder, just out of school and already you’re swimming with the big sharks.”
“Do you have a quiet table or booth something away from the other customers?”
“For you Sir I will rearrange the tables myself. Just give me a moment.” He said and wandered off. Naomi was impressed that Mr. Sanchez knew this man by name. He didn’t behave like the snobbish aristocrat one would expect from a man that grew up the way he had. The host returned and led them to a table. “Tonight, we have a special, butter poached lobster linguini with our signature white sauce.” He said handing them both a menu.
Naomi opened the menu and noticed instantly that nowhere on the menu did it state the dishes price. She’d been in the restaurant business all her life, and if there was one thing she knew to be true, it was that if the menu didn’t display the price she probably couldn’t afford it.
“I’ll have the special.” Mr. Sanchez said handing the menu back to the host. Then they both looked at her. “Order anything you like. It’s on me.”
She didn’t want to accidentally get something pricier than what he was so she just handed the menu back to the host with a smile. “I’ll have the same.”
“Wonderful choice.” The host said. “And what may I bring you to drink? May I suggest a white wine?”
“I will just take some Jack on the rocks tonight, make it a double.”
“Yes Sir, and for the lady?”
“I’ll just have water.”
Mr. Sanchez frowned. “You must want more. Don’t make me drink alone. How about a margarita? She’ll have a strawberry margarita.” He ordered for her.
Naomi leaned forward as if to tell him a secret. “Um, I’m not old enough to drink.” She confessed.
He looked surprised as he looked her over from head to toe. “Because you could pass for twenty-one.” She wasn’t sure looking older than she was could be considered a compliment. Sure, it was fine now at her age but what about when she was older. She didn’t want to be thirty and look forty. That was every woman’s nightmare.
“Perhaps the young lady would like a virgin margarita.” The host suggested.
“Oh yes, one of those would be fantastic.” She said with a smile.
Once the host was gone, Mr. Sanchez looked at her again, studying her, no doubt trying to determine her age. “Ok I give up just how old are you, and please say it’s over sixteen. Are you still in high school?” He asked his expression almost a cringe. He had a look of hope in his blue eyes as he waited for her answer.
She had an urge to mess with him, to tell him she was seventeen and see how he handled it, but she decided against it. “I’m twenty.” She admitted. “But I am still a student.”
“What school are you attending?” He asked with interest.
“I’m going into my second year of Juilliard. I’m a dance major.”
He looked pleasantly surprised. “What sort of dance?”
“Ballet.” She said with a smile. She loved ballet. She lived and breathed ballet. “I’ve been dancing since I was a little girl. When I was six, my class went on a field trip to the ballet. It was the Swan Princess, and your mother was dancing the lead.” She said with a fond smile. “She was beautiful, with such grace and poise, she’s the reason I wanted to be a dancer. I hope to one day dance for a major company.”
He just smiled and nodded. “Yeah, she’s a role model for a lot of dancers. The ultimate rags to riches, with enough heart you can make it stories of personal triumph. The little girl in the big city, making it in big bad New York. Marrying the Son of Sin and melting his wicked heart until he became prince charming. Everybody wants to be my Mom.”
She got the feeling he was being sarcastic. “Are you saying she’s not to be admired, that her story is all hogwash?” She asked. She supposed he knew his mother better than she did.
Mr. Sanchez rolled his eyes. “No, her story is true, everything from the hard-luck life to the success and dominating the dance world. She’s amazing, but as a child of industry tycoons, you get tired of the hero worship, hearing about how great it must be to be their child. To be raised by legends and how cool my childhood must have been. The truth is we’re like every other family. Me and my siblings fight. My parents had rules, we broke them, and they punished us. There were times when I hated my parents. You know just like any other kid. Except I don’t get to be just any other kid. I live in their shadows, more is expected of me. I’m expected to be something great. That’s a lot of pressure.”
She could relate. Her parents put a lot of pressure on her and her brother. She didn’t like stereotypes, but there was a reason stereotypes existed because sometimes they were true; and at least out of all the people she knew, Asian parents consistently expected so much from their children, and there was such pressure to fulfill their parents’ dreams or bring shame to the family. It was an old way of thinking, but sometimes it was hard to change the old ways.
“Believe me I understand. My parents wanted me to and my brother to be doctors, they weren’t keen on me being a dancer, but when they accepted it, they expect me to be the best. They won’t stop riding me until I’m dancing for a major company. Then, of course, there is Kobe, who with all his legal problems had utterly disgraced our parents. They are finding it hard to show their faces in public.”
“You don’t seem to be suffering the same disgrace.”
“I’m American born; my parents are immigrants. We come from very different worlds.” She chuckled as the waiter placed their drinks in front of them before walking away.
“That explains why you don’t have the accent.” He smiled reaching for his drink.
“Well if we’re taking shots at misleading culture let’s look at you, Mr. Sanchez.” She stressed his name. “For a man with a Mexican name you’re white.”
He chuckled and nodded his head. “You’re right. See my grandfather was a Spaniard, and he married a white woman. Which makes my father mixed race, but he kept the name, and then he married a white woman. Which makes me and my brothers I think quarter Spanish, either way, we got the name but now since our ethnic diversity is so diluted our name has become ironic.” He said and took a sip of his whisky. “Ah, that hit’s the spot.”
Naomi took a sip of her drink and smiled. It was pretty good; she wondered if it tasted the same with tequila. “So, Mr. Sanchez, why did you get into law?”
“Please,” He said putting down his drink, “if we’re going to be working together call me Brandon.”
“Ok.”
“I got into law because I like to argue. I would fight every little thing; it drove my parents nuts. So, when I turned fifteen, and the school started putting it in our heads that we had to start planning for our academic futures, I got to thinking what I wanted to be. My mother suggested law and I liked the way it sounded.”
“The seven years at University wasn’t a deterrent?” She couldn’t handle being in school that long, especially one with such high standards like Harvard.
“I was always good a school. I was smart. I could have finished and passed the Bar after three years, but I went for another four to get my doctorate, it opens more doors and makes me more employable.”
It wasn’t long before the waitress appeared at their side with their meals. It looked good and smelled great, and in truth, it was just nice to not been the one serving for once. They dug right in. It was the best Italian food she’d ever had. “So, this is how you think?” She asked bringing light to the fact that neither one of them had mentioned the case since they left the police station.
“Sometimes you just got to unwind and stop thinking so much about something that’s giving you problems. Clearing your head is important, it refreshes your mind and lets you come back and look at a problem with new eyes.” That made sense, if this were his process, she would let him unwind. After all, he was no used to her brother if he was burnt out. “But since we are on the topic; I want to conduct some interviews in China Town tomorrow night after work, I may need your help with the language barrier.”
“Of course.” She agreed. She had class tomorrow, and she was scheduled to work, but she could blow work off, she was sure her parents would understand. They finished their meal without mentioning the case again. They talked about ballet, and Brandon packed back a few more whiskies before calling a car service that drove drunken people home in their cars while their partner drove behind them in another car.
He paid the service to take Naomi home first. “Meet me at the restaurant around seven.” He said as she got out of the car. “We will go from there.” She agreed and then shut the door. She stood on the curb as she watched the car drive away. There went her brother’s only hope.
- Writer
