"Ally McFeel" [for Jamie Stringer]

[brad_chase]

"He’s going to know I’m not just a BIMBO."

Mercedes Clover was whining again and Brad breathed deeply, centering himself while they waited for the defendent and his counsel in the conference room. It was becoming clear why Ms. Clover's movies lacked dialogue. "He, like, has to respect me. Give me MY money and, yeah, say I'm smart. In front of

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[brad_chase]

"Mr. Lee has the corner on talent and accomplishment? I think not. This is not some instance of a story idea getting lifted from the Internet."

She swiveled her attention back to me - much better - and my right foot involuntarily stretched out in her direction. Damn wide conference table. "Our contention is your client blatantly and maliciously stole Ms. Clover's idea which she formally pitched to him in the summer of 2005." I'd wandered too close to leaving the door open as to the when, wherefore and what was going on at the moment of the pitch. I glanced at Mercedes in time to see her indignant hair flip.

"This is a clear case of fraud and a breach of an oral - " I was feeling a little warm. " - contract - one of many your client engaged in during their... encounters." I think I saw Jamie shift in a compelling way, my train of thought derailed an instant. "If you mention slander again or disparage our commitment to seeing justice served, we'll have no recourse but to share the details of their business meetings, meetings held in unusual settings where my clients legendary talents were mined under... " My metaphor was running aground. " ... many things."

My face said business. My thoughts went elsewhere.

[jamie_stringer]

There. There it was. The slight breach I always look for in my opposing counsel. Any trace of doubt in their argument, any sign of weakness in their demeanor, any fissure where I can wiggle in and drive a wedge, and there it was. He had stuttered on the word 'oral.' There was clearly an unease in discussing this topic . . . and I knew it. Work that, it's your job.

I hesitated, feeling unnerved myself now. I cleared my throat for a little too long.

"Formal? Formal?" I looked him in the eye. "How can you describe a woman dancing on a man's lap with her breasts and vagina exposed a formal situation?" I groaned inside. How can I be doing this to him? I shut my eyes as briefly as I could before looking back, right at him. "It is no secret that my client frequented the club. Everyone knows that. He's not afraid of that getting out."

[brad_chase]

I started picking at the lint on my suit sleeve in a feeble attempt to mask the mother of all flinches. The buzzing from the florescents was deafening, so much so that I couldn't hear anything she said after v - After that word. She was playing dirty pool.

Two can play. Collecting myself, I lean forward, planting my elbows on the table. "You're right. Absolutely. Hard work - " I nodded toward Mr. Lee. " - dedication to a strong work ethic, willing to stay the course - this is what makes America first. Oh, excuse me. Only males need apply." I looked back at the strong, spirited attorney across from me. "What kind of utopian society did I forget we don't live in? There's no room for a woman in the old boys club. Unless - " Back to Lee. " - she's servicing them."

Satisfied, I settled back in my chair. How d'ya like me so far?

[jamie_stringer]

The pang hit somewhere between the bottom of my heart and my upper intestines and I felt the involuntary pounding of my heart and the redness creeping into my cheeks. His smugness was so convincing. His description of the harsh reality of this situation, of this woman who would never have the same opportunities as the privledged man sitting next to me, who in all liklihood had concocted this . . Stripperella thing. No, don't let him do this.

Abruptly changing tactics, I leaned forward on the table too, planting my own elbows near his, close enough to knowingly let my fragrant perfume drift toward him. Unfortunately I was also close enough to get a whiff of his . . . it reminded me of another morning, only a few days ago.

"I believe you are . . . getting off . . . on a tangent Mr. Chase. Or are you implying that your client has concocted this story for the altruistic purpose of improving the opportunities for disadvantaged women throughout the country?"

I leaned further forward, looking him right in the eye. Then, stooping to the lowest trick possible, in an attempt to remind him who really has the power, I blinked at him, then cast my eyes down, my eye lashes batting, biting my lip slightly, letting my eyes redden oh-so-slightly, trying to mask my own disbelief that I was actually playing this card. You've hurt me, Brad. How could you do that? How could you do that after everything we've been through

I hated myself at that moment.

[brad_chase]

"Um." Every eye in the room was on her. Five seconds later, every eye in the room was on me. Since when did our relationship subtext override the sordid fight between a tv mogul and a porn star.

"I'm not... we're... the point is - "

"For crying out loud - " Mercedes may have a knack for a turn of phrase, after all. " - no need to turn on the waterworks, blondie." Well, that wasn't going to fly. I turned to my client and gave her a hard look. "I told you not to say one word. And can't you see she's... it's for real?" Gesturing to Jamie, trying not to look in her soft eyes, I squared my shoulders, tugged on my coat sleeves to remove the wrinkles and cracked my neck, for good measure.

"OK. Not all women. Just this one. Just her opportunity to go legit. Uh, I mean mainstream." Great. I shrugged and added a semi-chuckle. "I was hoping we wouldn't tell the other disadvantaged women."

I stared at the top of the conference table. Mr. Lee snorted in disgust. I knew he was going to ask me to turn in my high-powered male attorney card to him. I was about to be kicked out of the club over the effect Jamie had on me. This is precisely why every member of this firm is single.

[jamie_stringer]

Ok. Mission accomplished. I didn't say anything, just watched the situation unravel, watched him struggle, somehow resisting the urge to reach across the table to hold his hand. Knowing a smile would give my ploy away completely and perhaps destroy any chance of ever having Brad trust me again, I abruptly picked up and shuffled my papers on the desk.

"Okayyy then," I took a unnecessarily deep breath and brushed my hair away from my face, ready to proceed, knowing that the boundaries had been established. "So, Mr. Chase. What exactly is it that Miss . . . Mercedes wishes to extort, uh, I mean, get from my client? I just need to know what exactly we're about to say no to."

[brad_chase]

"Nice to see counsel is cooperative," I deadpanned. "We understand your client here had to front production costs and the risk of not getting picked up, although since he has stake in the cable company, I'd have wagered on it making the schedule." I actually thought I heard grinding teeth coming from Mr. Lee's vicinity. Best to cut to the chase.

"Twenty-five percent of the net revenue from advertising, 25% of sales into syndication. Executive Producer and created by co-credit in all reruns."

Merecedes sideswiped my ankle with her shoe, sparing me the heel. "Ow. Oh, and we want a public apology and full verbal credit. Thirty seconds before the next show. Mr. Lee can run the script by us first."

I stopped but my ankle kept on stinging. Jamie looked really great. Yeah, maybe she'll take a look at it for me later. Maybe cousel should have a conference right now without the clients, a little personal ex parte. That took me on a tangent of ex parteying, probably in an attempt to avoid remebering I'd been too tough on her.

[jamie_stringer]

Twenty five percent . . . revenue . . . syndication . . . I loved watching him talk. I loved watching him argue. So convincing, his earnest blue eyes on mine. I was almost prepared to smile and agree to whatever he was proposing.

"NAH!!!"

It was the first semi-coherent word Mr. Lee had uttered since we'd sat down which wasn't a direct insult aimed at Mercedes. We all turned at looked at him for a few beats, then resumed our talks. Luckily for my career, this snapped me out of the trance I had been lulled into, and I scrambled to reply.

"The problem with your request counsel, is that it is predicated on the assumption that your client is telling the truth. You've presented no proof whatsoever that the idea was hers, or that she shared it with my client. The idea is ludicrous. Their encounter, may I remind you, was in a loud bar with loud music, under circumstances which make it highly unlikely that my client was listening to her TALK!"

[brad_chase]

"You've just described a setting where the most innovative and creative ideas of our new economy germinated." This was supposed to be an innuendo, but their expressions were unchanged. I sighed and plowed ahead. New territory. Off script. Jamie brought that out in me.

"This isn't going away. It'll take me a few minutes to turn this into a loud, embarrassing, Access Hollywood-worthy lawsuit. Probably not even necessary for me to point out that Ms. Clover has many - " At this point, my hands are forming the visual attributes " - friends that would happily talk on television about what they know about both Mercedes and Mr. Lee."

"I'm sure I don't even need to pull out this calendar - " I patted my folder, then made a show of lifting the corner slightly and peaking inside - "Well, whatdayaknow. It's even black. And little. Looks kinda like a little book. Full of all kinds of words. Imagine that." I grinned a moment at Jamie. We'd never danced - well, not danced - but this felt pretty close to it. I liked it. "It won't be necessary to turn to, oh, say, the date of their encounter. Certainly ridiculous to page ahead a week to note the clipping from Variety that announced the Untitled Lee Project. Why would we have to resort to that when we have a perfectly reasonable proposition. Or, as I like to call these scenarios, a win-win."

I held up my hands to stop her rebuttal. "Now hear me out." I leaned back, channeling the smug look I'd seen on Shore during the D.A. fiasco. "Mr. Lee writes a check today to a third party for $100,000 for marketing services. Ms. Clover will sue his production company, complete with her full contingent of attractive spokesstrippers." Mercedes snorts a laugh. "The ensuing publicity will ensure not only buzz and top-dollar syndication agreements, but sponsors will be clamoring for ad insertions. Then, at the height of it, she'll drop her suit."

My big grin was genuine. "Cheapest PR ever. See? Win-win."

[jamie_stringer]

"If you honestly think - " I squint at him " - that we'd be willing to give in to your baseless threats counsel, you are completely - "

"WAIT!" Mr. Lee ubruptly stands up, very ubruptly for an eighty-something. "Not so fast, honey. This young man might be . . . I mean, not that . . . it's just that perhaps . . . Ms. Clover. Maybe we could . . . talk privately for a minute?"

I stare at him, my eyes widening. Then swivel back to Brad, giving my shoulders a slight shrug.

[brad_chase]

Pleased, I give her a 'hey, let those two kids talk' wink - although I'd put money on him copping a feel in private. A glance at Mercedes told me this is where her negotiation skills trumped mine. She was twirling an errant blonde lock around her finger, come hither written all over her face. It was in the bag.

"Ms. Stringer, let's give them the room." I stood and started around the table toward her, backtracking to grab the folder and its contents. Mr. Lee'd likely have a go at the black book. "Would you mind following me to my office? You and I can pound out a working document in five minutes." It was my concerted hope that, this time, there was germination. I held the door for her.