Jack With a Twist

you assigned to?”

But I don’t need to tell him what judge I’m assigned to because we both figure it out at the exact same time.

Miranda rounds the corner and calls out to Jack: “Oh, there you are! We’ve been waiting for you! I’ve been stalling all morning, just like you taught me to! Brooke, I don’t know what I would’ve done in that conference if your fella hadn’t coached me on it last night.” She walks over to us and stands between Jack and me. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she rests her hand on his shoulder and sighs audibly, sort of the way Scarlett O’Hara did to Rhett when he came to rescue her from a besieged Atlanta.

Jack looks at me and I look at him. Neither of us say a word. We don’t need to. Turns out that there is a Gilson, Hecht partner on the case, after all.

My fiancé.

7

“Your Honor, you can’t possibly let him litigate this case against me. I mean, how can he be objective for his client? It’s so obvious that he is completely, madly, desperately in love with me!”

What I fail to mention to the judge here—and the real reason why I’m so adamant to get Jack thrown off this case—is that Jack’s also a much more experienced lawyer than me, and during our five years together at Gilson, Hecht, he really did teach me everything I know. How on earth am I going to use all of the litigation tricks I know on the person who taught them to me in the first place?

“I can be objective for my client, Judge Martin,” Jack says. “I may be completely, madly—”

“And desperately,” I add.

“Yes, and desperately,” Jack says with a laugh, “in love with counsel, but we’re all professionals here, and I’m quite certain that we’d be able to keep work separate from our private life. In fact, we worked together for five years at Gilson, Hecht before Brooke left for SGR.”

“Ha!” I say, “but when I was at Gilson, Hecht, you were totally in love with me.”

“I seem to recall that you were totally in love with me,” Jack says, turning to face me.

“Oh, please!” I say, “Your Honor, look at the man! He can’t even keep his eyes off of me! Jackie, you’re going to have to find another partner to litigate this case.”

“Are you afraid of a little competition?” Jack whispers, eyes still glued to me.

“Your Honor, look!” I say, pointing at Jack, “He’s flirting with me right here in your chambers!”

“This is a unique situation we are in here,” Judge Martin says, rubbing his hand on his bald head.

Unique, indeed. Most couples, when they argue, don’t actually have a United States District Court judge refereeing it for them.

“Judge Martin, I’m ready to go forward with this case,” Jack says. “If Ms. Miller has a problem with it —”

“It’s my case, Jackie,” I say through gritted teeth, “back off.”

“Ms. Miller,” Judge Martin says, “if you’d like to make a motion, I’d be happy to entertain it right now.”

The judge wants me to make a motion? Right now? When I’m not even prepared for the conference, much less an oral argument? No way. No way in hell. And he wants me to argue it against Jack? Now that Jack’s here, Judge Martin’s totally going to favor him, and not me! I can just see Judge Martin at our rehearsal dinner: Brooke certainly gave it the old college try, but she was just no match for our Jack. Beauty and brains, that’s our Jack.

I don’t think so.

“No, Your Honor,” I say. “I’m ready to go forward.”

“Fine, then,” the judge says. “Are you familiar with the term Chinese Wall?”

Miranda sits in her chair, furiously taking notes while Jack and I manage a little giggle. You see, when I was at Gilson, Hecht, Jack and I had a case where we had to construct a Chinese Wall. Now, a Chinese Wall is not a real wall—it’s a term of art used in law to describe a situation within a law firm where there may be a conflict between certain clients. It means that the attorneys working on conflicted cases must keep all privileged information private and cannot discuss the information amongst themselves.

Four years ago, Jack and I represented Healthy Foods, one of the firm’s biggest clients, while our corporate department represented Organic Life, their competition, in a totally unrelated transaction. The two clients weren’t against each other in their respective matters, but since they were competitors in the market, the judge ordered the firm to construct a Chinese Wall within Gilson, Hecht so that we didn’t share privileged information.

“Now, the judge has ordered us to construct a Chinese Wall within the firm so that we do not inadvertently share information about our clients,” the partner on the Healthy Foods case announced in a large associate meeting just after the firm was retained by Organic Life. “Remember, even the most seemingly innocuous information could turn out to be privileged. Does everyone understand? However, for our purposes here, since the term Chinese Wall is so unpolitically correct, we’re going to call it an Asian wall.”

“Was that a joke?” Jack whispered to Vanessa and me.

“I can’t believe we had to give up billable time for this meeting,” Vanessa said. I, myself, was always glad to have any excuse not to work.

“Actually,” a fifth-year associate piped up, “only people are Asian. Objects are Oriental. Like an Oriental rug.”

“Okay,” the partner said, “then I suppose we can call it an Oriental wall.” Danielle Lewis, the head of the corporate department furrowed her brow and whispered something to the head of litigation.

“That’s way more offensive than Chinese Wall,” someone in the crowd called out.

Vanessa raised her hand. “Maybe we should just call it a Swiss wall, since they’re neutral.”

“Let’s just call it the Great Wall,” the partner offered and the other partners all shook their heads in agreement. “We will construct the Great Wall within Gilson, Hecht and I trust that all of the associates assigned to these matters will keep the details of their respective cases confidential.”

Jack, Vanessa and I refused to use the term Great Wall and instead referred to it as “the wall formerly known as Chinese” for the duration of the litigation. For some reason, the entire time we were on the case, I always had a massive craving for eggrolls.

“Yes, Judge, we are familiar with the concept,” Jack says to Judge Martin.

“Ms. Miller?” the judge asks me.

“Yes, Your Honor,” I say, but to be honest, I’m already beginning to think of the wok that I registered for at Crate and Barrel, hoping that someone buys it for me for my bridal shower.

“Great. So, then, I’ll expect,” he says, jotting down notes as he speaks to us, “that you two will construct a Chinese Wall at home and have no discussions whatsoever about the case.”

“Yes,” Jack and I say in unison. I’d never actually heard of a judge directing two lawyers to construct a Chinese Wall in their home, but it was giving me some great decorating ideas for our apartment. A silk screen in the living room would look totally fab.

What? It’s not like I wasn’t taking the case seriously. It’s just that when you’re a big-time lawyer like me, you have to multitask and think about apartment design while you’re working! Geez.

“I’m sure that the two of you have much more interesting things to discuss at home anyway,” the judge says. “I’d also like to fast-track this case. I understand from Ms. Miller’s papers that both parties are very well- known celebrities and they’d like to try to avoid unwanted media attention, so that’s why I’ve sealed all court records on the matter. I think it’s best to get this matter resolved as quickly as we possibly can. Am I correct?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Miranda and I say in unison, while, at the same time, Jack says, “Yes, Judge Martin.” Sort of like on Cheers when Norm comes in and everyone in the bar would say: “Norm!” but Diane would say: “Nor-man.” Although, “Your Honor” is actually more formal than calling a judge “Judge,” but you get the general point I’m trying to make.