People assumed fame meant experience.
It did not.
Large firms offered her extraordinary salaries.
Universities invited her to speak.
Television producers offered her a legal commentary contract.
A publisher offered her enough money for a memoir to make Maya sit silently for almost a full minute.
Harper declined most of it.
Instead, she accepted a position with Morris & Vale.
Charles Morris looked at her employment agreement.
“You know you could make five times this downtown.”
“Yes.”
“You enjoy making bad financial decisions?”
“My mother asked the same question.”
Morris signed the paper.
“Your mother sounds intelligent.”
“She is.”
“What does she think of me?”
“She thinks you encourage me.”
Morris looked offended.
“I discourage you constantly.”
“I told her that.”
“Good.”
He handed Harper the contract.
“First rule.”
“What?”
“You are not special here.”
Harper smiled.
“Understood.”
“Second rule.”
“There’s another?”
“You carry your own boxes.”
Her first assigned case was not dramatic.
No cameras.
No conspiracy.
No corrupt detective.
A twenty-two-year-old grocery clerk had been charged after a fight outside an apartment building.
Harper spent fourteen hours reviewing security footage only to discover that her client had, in fact, thrown the first punch.
She marched into Morris’s office.
“He lied to me.”
Morris continued reading.
“Clients do that.”
“He said he never touched the guy.”
“People do that too.”
“The video clearly shows him throwing the first punch.”
“Yes.”
Harper frowned.
“You already watched it?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you needed to watch it.”
Harper dropped into the chair.
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“Your job.”
“He’s guilty.”
“Maybe.”
“It’s on video.”
“Guilty of what?”