Anton enjoyed the silence of the office, but he wished that Jack were around. Jack must have spent five months out of the year in trial. His services were in high demand. People sold their houses to pay the $25,000 a week trial fee on top of his retainer. Yessenia was rearranging Jack’s schedule, as trial always took priority over everything. The paralegals and associates were buzzing around, saying polite “hellos” to Anton but paying him little mind. He didn’t sign their paychecks. Jack’s office door was open. Anton walked inside and shut the door behind him. He took in the smells—the leather of the wingback chair, the mahogany bookcase. The sunlight filtering in through his broad floor-to-ceiling window glistened off the plaques that adorned his wall. Anton sat in Jack’s chair. The leather squeaked as he shifted his weight. Anton laid his arms on the armrests and looked around the office. Four decades of accolades and recognition plastered on the walls. Jack sat in a $5,000 chair imported from a designer in Italy, as compared to the swivel thing Anton had in his office that had cost him $159 at Office Max.
