Wolf in the Shadows Read Online Free Page A

unknowns—a newish partner. His background—a childhood
     spent in the drug- and crime-plagued Sunnydale projects and a stint as a social worker before attending Hastings College of
     the Law—had made him a tireless crusader and perfectly suited him for working with our needier, less empowered clients.
    “I’m not sure,” I told Rae. “I like him, and I certainly admire him, but I don’t really know him.”
    “The reason I ask is that this corporate stuff became more pronounced about the time Mike made partner.”
    “Well, the incorporation and the new partners all happened at the same time. That was when Gloria came on board, too.” Gloria
     Escobar devoted her attention to equal-opportunity and civil-rights cases. I knew even less about her than I did about Mike,
     because she seldom socialized with any of us.
    That was another difference from the old days: back then I could count on knowing all my colleagues well. Many of them had
     lived in free rooms that the co-op provided to offset the low salaries a poverty law firm offered. All employees were welcome
     to attend the frequent potlucks, parties, and poker games. Today everyone was adequately compensated, and the few who remained
     in communal living quarters—Ted, Pam, Larry, Jack, and Rae—paid fair-market rent. A number of the newer associates and employees
     led personal lives that were strictly segregated from their work lives, and while the potlucks, parties, and poker games continued,
     they catered to an ever-diminishing core contingent.
    Rae said, “Mike and Gloria seem like good people, but I can’t warm up to either of them. I get the feeling that anything not
     strictly relating to work is off limits, and you’ve got to admit that neither of them has a sense of humor.”
    “They’re crusaders, Rae. People with missions often don’t see much to laugh at.”
    “Well, if I couldn’t laugh at stuff, I’d go totally insane. Even this thing with Willie has its funny side, if you think about
     it.”
    I agreed—both about the thing with Willie and the need for laughter. If I lost my ability to laugh at life’s snares and pitfalls—to
     say nothing of my own foibles and pomposities— I’d end up in the bin within weeks.
    Ted stuck his head through the doorway. “They’re ready for you, Shar.”
    “Thanks.” I got up and followed him, smoothing my long red sweater over my jeans and feeling ridiculously like a little kid
     being called to the principal’s office.
    As I slid open the parlor door, Ted whispered, “
Noli nothis permittere te terere.
”
    I glanced back at him. “What?”
    “Don’t let the bastards get you down.”
    They were all there, seated in various attitudes and degrees of repose. Hank was sprawled on the piano bench, leaning back,
     elbows propped on the keyboard cover. Pam, always more comfortable on the floor, had her back to the ash-clogged fireplace.
     Larry slouched in the overstuffed armchair, his feet propped on its hassock. He had a big pottery bowl in his lap and was
     fishing walnuts from a sack and shelling them into it. Mike anchored one end of the maroon sofa, Gloria the other.
    I shut the door and looked around for a place to sit. The only one was between Mike and Gloria, but being hemmed in by the
     two partners I was least comfortable with would put me at a psychological disadvantage. Finally I went over and plopped down
     next to Hank, poking him in the ribs to make him move over.
    “Sorry I was late,” I said. “I got hung up on a case I’m working,”
    Hank held his ground, poked me back, then sighed and relinquished the center of the bench. Larry tossed me a walnut. Pam smiled
     and said, “Better late than never.”
    Pam loves to utter aphorisms in a manner that makes them sound like arcane bits of Asian wisdom. I said, “That’s deep, Pam.
     Maybe you should get Ted to translate it into Latin.”
    She made a face at me. I glanced at Gloria and Mike; neither looked amused. Gloria’s