Think Twice

When Myron first returned to the Lock-Horne Building after his too-long hiatus, he would constantly get into the elevator and, out of habit, press the fourth-floor button, his old one. Today he did it on purpose. His old office now housed FFD — Fisher, Friedman and Diaz, a hyperaggressive female-led victims’ rights law firm. Created by the charismatic and media-savvy Sadie Fisher, FFD advocated for the abused, the bullied, the battered, taking on this new digital era, trying to get the laws updated and the victims protected.

The front page of their website reads:

We help you knee the abusers, the stalkers, the douchebags, the trolls, the pervs and the psychos right in the balls.

The new kick-ass law firm was, alas, busy because insecure and violent men (being factual here and not PC/sexist: The vast majority of stalkers and abusers are men, the vast majority of their targets are women) were very much in vogue. As Win put it when he invested in FFD, “Insecure, enraged men are a growth industry.”

The receptionist wasn’t at her desk, so Myron knocked on the office door.

A familiar voice said, “Come in.”

Myron opened the door. Esperanza Diaz had her back to him. She was on the phone. She stood looking out the same window in the same office she used when this space had been MB Reps. Esperanza had started off as Myron’s receptionist and assistant, but by the time they sold the agency, Esperanza had finished law school, passed the bar, and become his full partner. Eight months ago, not long before Myron decided that it was time to launch his sports-and-entertainment agency comeback, Win introduced Esperanza to Sadie Fisher. The two hit it off, and Fisher and Friedman added Diaz to their name. Now Esperanza, perhaps the best ass-kicker Myron knew, had a whole new arena to kick ass in.

She hung up and turned to him. “Hey, Myron.”

“Hey.”

Esperanza came toward him. She wore pearls and bold colors. Her blouse and skirt were both super-tight. All the senior partners at FFD were dressed likewise. It had been Sadie Fisher’s idea. When Sadie first started representing women who had been sexually harassed or assaulted, she had been told to “tone down” the outfits, to wear clothing that was both drab and shapeless. Sadie hated that. It was more victim blaming and she wouldn’t stand for that.

Now the lawyers on this floor did the opposite.

“Working a case?” Myron asked.

“Our client is a second-year law student at Stanford.”

“Good school.”

“Right. Her stalker, a horrendous guy who threatened to kill her on more than one occasion, was accepted to the same law school and insists on going. I’m getting the judge to issue an order of protection.”

“Think you’ll get it?”

She shrugged. “Just normal news at FFD. In not-so-normal news, is Greg Downing really alive?”

“Maybe, yeah.”

“I never liked him,” Esperanza said.

“I know.”

“You forgave him. I never did.”

“Look, I hurt him—”

“And he hurt you. I know. I’ve heard you say that before. It’s bullshit. You took him on as a client because you wanted to show everyone how magnanimous you could be.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it, Esperanza. Tell me how you feel.”

“Greg destroyed your dream—”

“He didn’t know how bad the injury was going to be.”

“—and now he’s faked his own death and murdered someone.”

“Uh, you may be jumping the gun.”

“Whatever. I don’t want to be part of this.”

“Oh,” Myron said. “Okay.”

“Don’t make that face. I hate when you make that face.”

“What face?”

“The Helpless Bambi one.”

Myron blinked and pouted, playing it up.

“Ugh,” she said. “Look, I got your message, and I did a deep dive on this Bo Storm for you.” Esperanza sat behind her desk and started typing on her laptop. “By the way, how was seeing Emily?”

“How do you think?”

“Not as bad as usual, I imagine. You’re happily married now. It’s all in the rearview mirror now.”

“True. Except.”

“Yeah. Jeremy. I get it.” Esperanza kept typing. “First off, Bo Storm isn’t his real name.”

Myron put his hand to his heart. “Gasp. Oh. Gasp. I’m. So. Surprised.”

“Yeah, I’m starting with the obvious because after that, it all gets pretty strange.”

“In what way?”

“Bo Storm has been off the radar for five years. I mean totally.”

“Since Greg supposedly ran overseas.”

“Right. He closed it all down. Not just his Instagram account. Bo had a pretty decent OnlyFans following. Good subscriber base, maybe because his rates were cheap.”

“When you say OnlyFans and subscriber base—”

She looked up at him. “You don’t know what I mean?”

“I don’t.”

“You pay for access to see him naked.”

“Oh.”

“And in sex scenes with other men.”

“Oh.”

“Do you really not know this?”

Myron shook his head. “And when you say ‘his rates were cheap...’”

“His monthly subscription fee was only $1.99 — but really I think he just used the OnlyFans to advertise his wares.”

“Wares?”