molding around the ceilings and windows were exquisite. The carvings in each piece were so unique and original you could tell they were done by hand and created by a master carpenter years ago. The living room was directly to the left with the staircase immediately in front of me. There was a long hall with several doors to the right. I walked to the left of the staircase, passing the living room, dining room, and eventually ending up in the kitchen.
It was a little outdated in appearance, like it had been remodeled in the 1930s. Adrian was at the yellow and teal-tiled counter preparing some coffee. I took a seat at the small dinette table and rubbed my eyes. The high from the alcohol was starting to fade and I was now fighting off drowsiness. I began to wonder why I had even come back here with Adrian. It was a good thing my home was only three blocks away. I could leave any time I wanted, which prompted me to begin taking mental notes of the nearest exit.
“So, I came here temporarily, it wasn’t my intention to stay very long,” Adrian said, catching my attention.
He poured two small cups full of coffee and walked them over to the table and sat down. I took my cup and drank it down greedily. I needed the caffeine.
“The truth is that I’m only here long enough to handle my affairs.”
I scratched my head, wondering why he was telling me this. Did he plan on getting me back to his house under false pretenses that he would be staying and now he was feeling remorse for lying to me?
“But I can stay longer than the original one week. There’s a firm in Sacramento that offered me a six-month contract. If I need to extend it for a year they’re okay with that.”
My head was spinning, this was too much information at one time. I didn’t even know how to process any of it. I laid my head on the dinette table and closed my eyes.
“A firm…like what kind of firm?” I slurred slightly, forcing my eyes back open and glancing over at him.
Adrian cocked his head to the side and gave me that crooked smile of his. “Is there anything other than a law firm?”
I sat up. “Okay, Warren Buffet,” I began. “A firm typically means a large corporation or enterprise, so if you want to get technical about it, then I think I asked a very valid question.”
I could feel my adrenaline returning. I wasn’t sure if it was the coffee or just him pressing my buttons.
He was impressed. “Okay, Webster’s dictionary, who’s getting technical now?”
“As I was saying, are you a lawyer? ”
He drank his coffee and then set the mug on the table. “Not quite yet. I still need to pass the bar exam. After college my father got me a job in his firm …primarily as a paper pusher, but it gave me the experience I needed and prepared me for the bar exam. When he and my mother passed away last spring in a car accident, my life was placed on hold until I could figure things out. Here I was twenty-two years old and the owner of the most prominent law firm in all of New York City…”
He drifted off, lost in thought.
“So you’re twenty-three?” I asked, doing the math in my head to figure out our age difference. I smiled to myself . Four years, not bad.
“Sorry again, about your parents,” I added, trying to sound sensitive to the situation. “So what’d you do with the business?”
“I’ll be twenty-four in August,” he confirmed. “My father’s business partner is taking over the firm for the time being, just until I can get things taken care of over here.”
He looked at me. “How old are you?”
It was his turn to figure out the math.
Without thinking of where I had spent the evening, I blurted out, “I just turned nineteen. Today’s my birthday.”
I looked up at the clock hanging over the sink, which read 1:30 a.m.
“Well, it was my birthday. By the way, you really don’t look like a lawyer,” I declared as I sized him up, looking at his long, unkempt hair and grunge clothes.
He smiled. “I
It was a little outdated in appearance, like it had been remodeled in the 1930s. Adrian was at the yellow and teal-tiled counter preparing some coffee. I took a seat at the small dinette table and rubbed my eyes. The high from the alcohol was starting to fade and I was now fighting off drowsiness. I began to wonder why I had even come back here with Adrian. It was a good thing my home was only three blocks away. I could leave any time I wanted, which prompted me to begin taking mental notes of the nearest exit.
“So, I came here temporarily, it wasn’t my intention to stay very long,” Adrian said, catching my attention.
He poured two small cups full of coffee and walked them over to the table and sat down. I took my cup and drank it down greedily. I needed the caffeine.
“The truth is that I’m only here long enough to handle my affairs.”
I scratched my head, wondering why he was telling me this. Did he plan on getting me back to his house under false pretenses that he would be staying and now he was feeling remorse for lying to me?
“But I can stay longer than the original one week. There’s a firm in Sacramento that offered me a six-month contract. If I need to extend it for a year they’re okay with that.”
My head was spinning, this was too much information at one time. I didn’t even know how to process any of it. I laid my head on the dinette table and closed my eyes.
“A firm…like what kind of firm?” I slurred slightly, forcing my eyes back open and glancing over at him.
Adrian cocked his head to the side and gave me that crooked smile of his. “Is there anything other than a law firm?”
I sat up. “Okay, Warren Buffet,” I began. “A firm typically means a large corporation or enterprise, so if you want to get technical about it, then I think I asked a very valid question.”
I could feel my adrenaline returning. I wasn’t sure if it was the coffee or just him pressing my buttons.
He was impressed. “Okay, Webster’s dictionary, who’s getting technical now?”
“As I was saying, are you a lawyer? ”
He drank his coffee and then set the mug on the table. “Not quite yet. I still need to pass the bar exam. After college my father got me a job in his firm …primarily as a paper pusher, but it gave me the experience I needed and prepared me for the bar exam. When he and my mother passed away last spring in a car accident, my life was placed on hold until I could figure things out. Here I was twenty-two years old and the owner of the most prominent law firm in all of New York City…”
He drifted off, lost in thought.
“So you’re twenty-three?” I asked, doing the math in my head to figure out our age difference. I smiled to myself . Four years, not bad.
“Sorry again, about your parents,” I added, trying to sound sensitive to the situation. “So what’d you do with the business?”
“I’ll be twenty-four in August,” he confirmed. “My father’s business partner is taking over the firm for the time being, just until I can get things taken care of over here.”
He looked at me. “How old are you?”
It was his turn to figure out the math.
Without thinking of where I had spent the evening, I blurted out, “I just turned nineteen. Today’s my birthday.”
I looked up at the clock hanging over the sink, which read 1:30 a.m.
“Well, it was my birthday. By the way, you really don’t look like a lawyer,” I declared as I sized him up, looking at his long, unkempt hair and grunge clothes.
He smiled. “I
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