In the wager contract, Harvey had specified that the interview should take place in the Missoula County courthouse, under the supervision of a judge who would rule on any objections raised.
"You do know the standard rules of cross-examination, right?" Harvey said, as they took their seats in the empty courtroom. "You can lead the witness."
"If you're so concerned, why didn't you give me this advice yesterday?"
"I like to get my advice in under the gun. It's more dramatic, don't you think?"
Mike eyed him suspiciously. "I know you said you came out here to help, but sometimes I wonder if you're out here to make sure Trevor gets sent to prison."
He regretted the words immediately. Harvey's good humor faded, and he looked away, his jaw tightening.
Shit. In his head, it had sounded a helluva lot funnier.
"Sorry," he said, "I'm nervous. It was supposed to be a joke."
"Learn better ones."
Any other time he might have laughed at how quintessentially Harvey the order had been, but he was feeling far too flustered. His mind was swimming with the hours and hours of information and evidence that he had pored over for much of the night.
Ok, that was a lie. He had worked on the case, certainly, but the entire night, he'd ruminated over Harvey's words: "I'll bet that my associate can destroy her credibility within fifteen minutes."
His knees jiggered with anticipation, his fingers tapped anxiously against the desk, and the words popped out of his mouth before he could recall them: "Yesterday you said I was your associate."
Harvey looked steadfastly forward. "I didn't say that."
"You referred to me as your associate."
There was a long pause. Then, sternly: "This isn't the time to talk about it."
"Then when? I've been trying since you got here - "
"And I've been trying to win this case."
It was about the case. It was always about the case. Mike swallowed down a stab of disappointment.
"I have to know. I'll be distracted."
"Live with it," Harvey said curtly, "A good lawyer doesn't allow himself to get distracted."
"Harvey..."
The courtroom door opened, and Martha Mays and Monique Bell walked in.
"Look," Harvey murmured, "I don't have these kinds of conversations, and especially not three seconds before important courtroom proceedings. Shut up. Stop thinking about yourself. And go win the goddamn case."
Monique Bell was sworn under oath, and Mike fought back sudden waves of anxiety as he stood up.
"Please state your name and occupation."
Monique Bell blinked at him demurely, and Mike could easily see why Trevor had flirted with her. She was a classic Irish beauty: rich, red-hair, deep-set green eyes, high cheekbones, and a sprinkling of freckles.
"I thought this wasn't the real thing," she said softly.
"For the record, please."
"Monique Bell. I'm a college student at The University of Montana."
"Go Griz," Mike said, with a friendly smile.
She smiled at him then, a dazzling smile, all pearly whites. Her eyes sparkled. "You're a fan?"
"Objection, relevance," Mays said sharply.
"Your Honor, I didn't ask the question."
"Overruled."
"It's more of I hate the MSU Bobcats," Mike said, naming the University of Montana's chief football rival.
"Objection, counsel is testifying," Mays protested.
"Don't try to burn the fifteen minutes with your objections," Harvey drawled.
The judge, a stern looking African-American man in his late fifties, who Mike thought rather resembled Clarence Thomas, frowned. "Defense counsel, though this may not be a formal proceeding, please refrain from commenting out of turn. Prosecution, ease off a bit on the objections. We're only getting started. As for you, Mr. Ross, I believe sufficient rapport has been established. Ask your questions."
"Yes, Your Honor. My apologies." Mike dropped Monique a sly wink, and she smiled broadly at him.
"Ms. Bell," he said, "I was hoping we could discuss the events of the night of August 1st, 2011. Where were you that night, around 1AM?"
"I was at a club with my friend, Sharon Cooper."
"Which club?"
"Down Low Lounge."
"Do you frequent that club often?"
"At least twice a week."
"Any days in particular?"
"Tuesdays and Thursdays."
"Ladies' Night."
She grinned sheepishly. "Cheap drinks. You know how it is, being a poor college student."
"Well an attractive woman such as yourself – "
"Objection," Mays protested.
"My apologies, Your Honor. I'll rephrase." He paused, paced a few steps as if deep in thought, and then met Monique's eyes. "Men usually buy you your drinks, am I correct, Ms. Bell?"
"Usually."
"So you don't bring money with you when you go clubbing?"
"I don't need to," she said, tossing her head slightly.
"You didn't have any cash on you that night?"
"I never bring any."
"And Sharon?"
"She doesn't bring any either."
"That's understandable if she's anything like you."
"Your Honor," Mays protested, "Defense counsel is acting completely out of order."
"Mr. Ross. Approach."
He approached the bench.
"Tread very carefully. This is your final warning," the judge said.
He summoned a sheepish smile. "My apologies, Your Honor. I'll tamp down on...the flirting," the last words he aimed in Monique's general direction, and she flushed prettily.
"Ms. Bell," he continued, "How did you interact with the defendant, Trevor, that night?"
"He came to me, started flirting, and offered to buy me a drink. He then asked for a dance. I figured I owed him one for the drink, so I agreed. After it was over, I went back to Sharon."
"And then?" he prompted.
"We were bored and decided to head home. As we were walking down the street – "
"I'm sorry, Ms. Bell, please allow me to interrupt for a second. Just to get a complete record of all that happened that night, after your dance with the defendant, you found your friend Sharon, and you both decided to head home."
"Yes."
"I have a statement from the bartender here that you bought two more drinks, a Cosmo and – oh, jeez, his handwriting is hard to read." Mike squinted at the sheet of paper. "A Cosmo and – "
"A Flaming Volcano," she chipped in.
"So after your dance with the defendant and before you left the bar, you and Sharon bought a Cosmo and a Flaming Volcano."
"Yes."
"On Ladies Night, that's only $5, isn't it?"
"Only $5.35, actually. Pricing's weird, I know."
Mike nodded along with her, agreeing with a smile. "That is quite weird."
Time to drop the bombshell.
"How did you pay?"
She stared at him, her eyes widening in horror as she realized her mistake. "We – um – we put it on – on our tab," she said shakily.
"The bartender has no record of any drinks being added to your tab that night."
"We had gotten some cash from some guy!"
"First it was your tab, then it was some cash from some guy? Interesting," Mike mused, "Because the defendant alleged to the cops that you had stolen his wallet. Was it...that cash? That guy?"
She looked past him, at Martha Mays, with some alarm. "I had a few drinks; I – I can't really remember everything - "
"Confessing to a foggy memory doesn't help your credibility, Ms. Bell," Mike said quietly.
She looked at him, looking betrayed.
"Your Honor," there was no mistaking the triumph in Harvey's voice, "By the terms of the agreement I outlined to you earlier, I do believe we've established Ms. Bell as an untrustworthy witness."
"Your Honor, one slip-up – " Mays began to argue.
"Those were the terms you agreed to," said Harvey.
"Your boy manipulated – "
"Considering how he just won the case, perhaps a little respect is in order," Harvey said evenly.
Mike's heart gave a leap. Was Harvey defending him?
"Enough," the judge said, with finality. "By the terms of this so-called 'agreement', it is clear that defense counsel has raised doubts to Ms. Bell's credibility. This proceeding is over."
Mays' painted red lips opened and closed, and she slowly sat back down, looking like she'd just been punched in the gut.
Owned.
Harvey was damn proud of the kid.
Of course he'd been certain that Mike was going to win the bet, because failure simply wasn't an option. But that didn't stop him from feeling ridiculously, inanely proud at the way it had been done.
He hadn't admitted it earlier, but it had irked him when Martha Mays had been so dismissive of Mike's abilities, and kept deriding him by calling him 'boy'. He had let it slide previously because he'd wanted Mays to underestimate Mike's skill, though he had been annoyed at how deeply Mays' attitude seemed to have affected the kid.
He remembered clearly the sheer lack of confidence on Mike's face. The kid really needed more self-esteem, more assurance in the courtroom. He'd set the wager in part to address that issue, to show the kid that he believed in him.
And yes, admittedly, because he had wanted to see his associate kick some ass.
Mike came back to their table, looking as if he were about to break out into a jigger any second. "So?" he said, his boyish face splitting into a grin. "What'd you think?"
Harvey tried to affect nonchalance. "Of all things to focus on, why'd you pick the wallet?"
"I figured Ms. Mays had limited time to prep the witness. She probably would have focused on all the other issues, and neglected to prep for the wallet."
Oh yeah, the kid had done well.
"So?" Mike said, the enthusiasm in his eyes dimming a bit.
"You won," he said.
It was as if Mike completely deflated before his eyes. "Yeah," he said, quietly. "I did."
Harvey felt like he'd just kicked a puppy. Oh hell.
Covertly he glanced around the room. The judge had already excused himself to his chambers. Ms. Mays and Ms. Bell were in hushed conversation. He noted with indifference that the redhead seemed to be in tears.
Nobody was watching them.
He extended his fist outwards.
Mike gaped at him for a few seconds, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"Hurry up," Harvey said, crossly.
The kid fist bumped him, and then broke out into a delighted smile. He did a slight hop, a skip -
"Don't do the dance," Harvey admonished, with mock severity. "Get your things."
And as Mike turned away to gather his files and folders together, Harvey allowed himself to smile.
Trevor was ecstatic when told. "Thank you, man. I owe you. I really do," he said sincerely to Mike, "Look, let's go out tonight, I know this place which has the best beer - "
Harvey cleared his throat. "Wait just a second. You have a flight to catch tonight."
"I – I have a – what? Are you talking to me?" Trevor blinked.
Harvey reached into his suit jacket and withdrew an envelope. "You owe $10,000 in attorney's fees."
"Dude, you can't be serious."
"I'm willing to overlook that," Harvey continued.
Mike stared at him, utterly speechless.
"In exchange, you're signing this work contract," Harvey continued grimly, "I have a client in San Francisco who has plans for a software start-up. You may have lied about being a software developer in the past, but I sincerely hope that you have at least some skill in the area. I've volunteered your services to him."
"You – you got me a job? In San Francisco?"
"The contract also states that you aren't to contact Mike Ross until you've both been drug-free and gainfully employed for five years. You aren't to contact him, you aren't to see him. You are going to keep your ass in San Francisco learning how to be a valuable contribution to society."
"But I – "
"Harvey." Mike felt obligated to protest. Didn't he get a say in any of this? He hadn't given up his career, flown all the way out here, and then gone up against the witness just to send Trevor away! And yet...wasn't it what he wanted? It was a chance for Trevor, almost like the chance he had been given.
Completely undeterred, Harvey continued, "If you violate the terms of this contract in any fashion, then I will consider it a breach of contract, and bring it before the court. I'll personally make sure that you spend at least a dozen years behind bars." He paused a moment, letting the threat sink in. Then he extended a pen. "Sign."
"Do I have a choice?"
"Of course you do. Sign."
Trevor stared. "Why are you helping me?"
"Don't mistake any of this for kindness or generosity on my part; I'd rather lock you behind bars," Harvey said coolly.
Trevor looked at Mike. "Should I do it?"
He swallowed thickly. "It's a chance for you, dude. Job and everything."
And though he was loath to admit it, he was relieved, relieved that Trevor would be contractually obligated to stay out of his way at least for a few years.
Trevor took the pen and signed.
"Good. I have a cab waiting to take you to the airport," Harvey said, folding up the contract and placing it back into his suit jacket. Trevor looked at Mike with a combination of dismay and trepidation, Mike stared back at him, then at Harvey.
There was an awkward pause. "I'll give you two a minute," Harvey excused himself.
The two of them were left alone, standing outside the Missoula County Courthouse. Mike shifted awkwardly. The contract was a good one, but there was no mistaking its true purpose: to keep Trevor far, far away.
"This is it, man," Trevor finally said, quietly. He squinted off into the distance, a sudden wind ruffling his hair. "Seventeen years."
Mike held out a hand. Trevor took it.
A handshake seemed like a pretty poor way to cap off seventeen years of friendship, but Mike had the feeling that nothing really would suffice. Oh sure, it hadn't been the best of times. Trevor had been a damn crappy friend at times, and they'd fucked up their lives hundreds of times over.
But he was kind of like family, the kind of screw-up family that you stuck by because they were family.
"See you, man," Trevor said, his voice raspy.
"Count on it," Mike said.
They did their punching routine. And then a quick hug.
And then the cab was there, and Trevor was getting in, the door was closing, and then just like that, he was gone.
To California.
Gone.
There was a heavy ache in his heart as Mike turned around slowly to see Harvey, standing a few feet back, looking askance at him.
"You got rid of him," the words fell numbly from Mike's lips. "My oldest friend."
Harvey's jaw set and clenched, and he put his hands in his pockets. He didn't apologize.
"Part of me hates you right now," Mike said, quite honestly.
The words hung between them.
"And the other part?" Harvey said finally, quietly.
"Relieved." Mike closed his eyes for a few seconds, dragging fresh air into his lungs.
Harvey was still watching him with concern. It was a bit unnerving to see that sort of expression on the older man's face.
"How'd you arrange all this?" As far as topics went, that probably wasn't the best one. In fact, Mike didn't actually care too much for the answer, but the silence was getting to be too overbearing.
"I called in a few favors."
"Oh."
The tense silence was back. Mike exhaled audibly, tilting his head back toward the sky and squeezing his eyes shut. When he re-opened his eyes, he felt a bit better. Lighter.
"You lied to Trevor," he said.
"Did I?"
"Breach of contract is a civil offense, not a criminal one. Civil offenses aren't punishable by prison time."
A small smile touched Harvey's lips. "Yes, well...as long as no one ever tells him that..."
The shock of the abrupt departure was wearing off, and though he felt a bit like a terrible friend for it, he was feeling relieved. No longer would he have to worry about Trevor needing a bailout from jail. No longer would he have to worry that his friend would tangle them both in with the wrong crowd.
Those times were over.
Harvey, he realized, had done for him what he hadn't had the strength to do himself.
It was time to move on.
"You bought a plane ticket," he said, with sudden realization, "You bought a ticket for Trevor even before knowing today's outcome. You were so sure I'd win?"
Harvey looked uncomfortable.
"You were sure I'd win," Mike repeated, stunned.
"I need to pack."
Mike's exuberance dampened. Right. He'd forgotten. Harvey was leaving, leaving back to New York, Trevor was on his way to California, and he...well, what was he going to do?
They walked back to Harvey's hotel room together in silence. Several times Mike wanted desperately to talk, to try to settle whatever was still between them, but each time he couldn't quite figure out how to start. If only Harvey were an easier person to read! Right now, he really didn't know what to make of the situation. He didn't even know if he still had a job or not.
All he knew for certain was what he felt. Despite their terse arguments, the angry words, there was no doubting the camaraderie he'd felt when they had been piecing together the evidence and working on the case. The past few days had opened his eyes to new revelations.
The realization that they were a damn good team.
The realization that he could be a good lawyer.
The confirmation that Harvey was more than he seemed.
All his previous frustration now felt so very, very far away. All he wanted was to go back to the way things had been. Could they? Would Harvey have really come all the way out here to help with the case if he intended to fire him?
Unbeknownst to him, Harvey was entertaining very similar thoughts.
He had felt disappointed, incredibly disappointed, when he'd learned that Mike had gone to Montana. Hell, he might even say he'd felt betrayed.
Well, maybe he wasn't willing to go that far yet.
But he had come out here to do the right thing, and help a friend in need. And somewhere along the line, that previous disappointment had faded.
Harvey had never really seen much point in mucking around with emotion, especially when it was in the past.
God, Mike had wanted so many times to talk about the situation. Harvey had done his best to deflect each attempt, because he just didn't do that.
It was ironic, he supposed, that he talked circles around people for a living, and yet he could never just talk to people.
But what it came down to was that he still wanted the kid as his associate. Sure the kid had too soft of a heart for his own good, but there was no doubting the value of his eidetic memory. And judging from how Mike had handled the mock trial (until he'd given up, of course) and how he'd handled the Ms. Bell, Harvey was reasonable confident that the capacity for success was there. All the right instincts were. Maybe they could make a lawyer of him yet.
Plus, if he was truly honest with himself, then he'd never had any intention whatsoever of accepting Mike's resignation. Kid wasn't getting away that easy.
His decision was made. Time for some words.
But hell, he might as well have some fun frightening the kid while he was at it.
"You owe the firm quite a few hours of overtime for all the unauthorized time you've spent out here."
Mike's head jerked up. His lips moved soundlessly, in wonderment.
"You can forget about taking any dinner breaks for the next few weeks," Harvey said sternly, "I'm going to put you on an assignment detail with a new client."
"Wait," Mike stammered, "You mean I'm not fired?"
"Are you listening to a word I'm saying? Yes, you're not fired."
He watched as sheer happiness lit up the younger man's face. "I'll work whatever assignment detail you want," Mike said eagerly, "I'll stay all night at the office – "
"Instead of your dinner break, you'll meet with this new client for an hour every day. You'll treat her to dinner and you'll make good conversation."
Mike's expression radiated confusion. "That's it? I don't have to broker a deal or anything?"
"The client's name," Harvey said, with an absolutely straight face, "is Mrs. Ross."
And he walked away chuckling as his associate's mouth dropped open.