“That works for me,” Eggers replied.
“Your wife would kill you in your sleep.”
“You have a point.”
Suddenly, Herbie and his two hookers materialized at their table. He was still dabbing at his nose, which had assumed the appearance of a small, battered eggplant. “Stone,” he said.
Stone winced. “What, Herbie?”
“I want to sue those two guys, and I want you to represent me.”
Dino burst out laughing.
“Herbie,” Stone said, “you say you’re a lawyer now; sue them yourself.”
“Then I would have a fool for a client,” Herbie replied, calling up the old legal maxim describing a lawyer who represents himself.
“I can’t argue with that,” Stone said, “but I will not, repeat not, represent you.”
“I can pay.”
“Herbie, the two guys who did that to your nose couldn’t get you to pay.”
“That’s different,” Herbie said. “Owing you would be a debt of honor.”
“And that’s different from the debt to the boss of those two guys how?”
“That debt involved sports; it’s not the same thing.”
“Try explaining that to Carmine Dattila,” Dino said. “That’s who those guys work for. Carmine would hollow you out and use you for an ashtray.”
“No means no, Herbie,” Stone said. “Good night.”
Suddenly Eggers spoke up. “Mr. Fisher,” he said, extending his hand, “I am William Eggers of the law firm of Woodman and Weld.”
“Hey, how you doin’?” Herbie replied, pumping Eggers’s hand.
“My firm would be happy to represent you in this matter; in fact, I would be pleased to handle the case personally.”
Stone’s jaw nearly hit the tabletop. “Bill, are you nuts, or are you just drunker than I thought?”
Eggers waved him away. “In fact, we would be pleased to represent you on a contingency basis.”
“Bill,” Dino said, “excuse me for interrupting, but I think you should know that Carmine Dattila is known by the sobriquet Dattila the Hun.”
“Oh, Dino,” Eggers said, shaking his head “don’t you ever watch 60 Minutes? The power those old guys once had has been much diminished.”
“Nobody told Carmine,” Dino replied.
Eggers whipped out a card and handed it to Herbie. “Mr. Fisher, please call me tomorrow morning around ten. I’ll be out of the weekly partners’ meeting by then.”
Herbie read the card carefully, then produced one of his own.
Stone grabbed it: “Herbert Q. Fisher, Attorney at Law,” it read, followed by a post office box and a cell-phone number. “Herbie,” Stone said, “you only passed the bar today; when did you have these printed?”
“It was just in case,” Herbie said defensively.
“And how come you were so sure you were going to pass the exam?”