Rich Blood (Jason Rich #1)(59)

I should have stopped it, he thought.

Then, as Colleen reached inside his pants, all conscious thought melted away.





43


An hour after receiving his reprimand from the commissioners of the Alabama State Bar, Jason sat in one of the bar’s many conference rooms and gazed across a mahogany table at Ashley Sullivan, the president of the Lawyer Assistance Program. Sullivan wore a forest-green suit, which contrasted nicely with her thick red hair and freckles.

“So tell me how it’s going?”

Jason gave his instinctual, trademark smile. “Great. Practice is thriving. I’ve moved back to Guntersville to be closer to family. Can’t complain.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He peered down at the table. “I know.”

“Mr. Rich, you were supposed to reach out to my office when you returned to practice. If you’d done so, I would have assigned you a mentor to check in with regarding your recovery. Someone who’s been through what you have.”

He fiddled with his hands.

“Have you fallen off the wagon yet?”

“No,” Jason said, looking at her.

“Thought about it?”

“Every day.”

She leaned across the table. “Jason, you can’t do this alone. If you try, you’ll eventually fail.”

“Does my mentor have to be another lawyer?”

“This is the Lawyer Assistance Program. All of our members are attorneys. Besides, who better to know what you’re going through than someone who’s in the same profession.”

Jason stood, then walked to a window that looked out on Dexter Avenue. He could see the columns of the Alabama Supreme Court building. “Did you watch the reprimand?”

“I did,” she said, her voice matter of fact.

“Then you saw . . . or felt . . . the way my peers think about me.”

“That’s in your head, Jason. I’ve watched hundreds of those reprimands. They’re all the same. A lot of folks look down. Some stare off into space. And others seem to get some kind of sick enjoyment out of seeing another lawyer suffer.”

“And you?”

She stood and walked over to where he was standing. “I feel empathy.”

“Why?”

“Because I know, if I hadn’t gone to treatment, I would have been right there too. Being disciplined like you were today.”

Jason groaned. “People have your back, Ashley. You’re likeable. They wouldn’t enjoy your shame like they did mine today.”

“I didn’t enjoy it.”

He glanced at her. “Well, you were the only one.”

She walked to the end of the table and took a seat. “Jason, if you don’t take a mentor, I’m going to have to tell Ted that you’re not cooperating. As I understand it, you haven’t gone to an AA meeting either, correct?”

“Correct.”

“And you aren’t seeing a counselor.”

“None of the above,” he snapped.

“And what about your counselor from the PAC?”

“We had one call. A week out of rehab.”

“Well . . . that’s good. What’d she say?”

“That it was unwise to take on my sister’s murder case. Too stressful. Too much pressure. Too soon.”

“I agree with her on all points,” Ashley said.

“I figured you would, but Jana and my nieces are the only family I have, and there are extraneous circumstances.”

“What are you talking about?”

He turned from the window. “I can’t tell you. But Jana didn’t have many other alternatives. I give her the best shot at a fair trial.”

Ashley crossed her arms. “Jason, you have to know that the bar is watching you like a hawk. Ted is salivating for another chance to nail you, and I’m sure Winthrop Brooks would like nothing better than to enforce the disciplinary commission’s zero-tolerance policy. If I tell them that you’re not cooperating with our program . . .”

Jason sat down. “How can I prevent that?”

“At the very least, by meeting with one of our mentors.”

“Ashley, I don’t trust other lawyers. Especially anyone reporting directly to the bar. Seems like a recipe for failure. You saw how they were in there?”

“You didn’t look all that apologetic.”

“I didn’t want to give Ted or Winthrop Brooks or any of the commissioners the satisfaction. I know I messed up, but they’ve been waiting for years to have me by the balls . . .” He looked away. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

For a moment, there was silence. “Are you familiar with the All Steak restaurant in Cullman?” Ashley asked.

Jason cocked his head. “Yes. I had a client who was in a trucking accident in Cullman. I met him for dinner once at the All Steak. Great orange rolls.”

“That’s the place. I want you to meet me for lunch there next week. How does Wednesday at one sound?”

Jason checked his phone, and the day appeared clear. “That’ll work. What’s this about?”

“Simple,” she said. “Cullman is only thirty minutes from Guntersville.”