Bridgette tapped the red circle on her iPhone screen and set the device on the desk in front of her. “So, Tom,” she began, “what does it mean to be a fringe lawyer? What is it that you do?”
“This and that. A lot of little things,” Tom replied, crossing his legs.
“Such as?” Bridgette persisted.
“Well, take today for instance.” Tom pushed up his glasses. “I was reading over contracts, prepared by a larger law firm. They sometimes sub-contract out to me for particularly paranoid companies, in order to check for unforeseen loopholes.”
“What’s an unforeseen loophole?”
“Like Air Bud. It’s my job to check the contract to make sure that it is explicitly clear that a dog cannot play basketball.”
“Does that come up a lot?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“What about yesterday?”
“Yesterday was Monday. On Monday I specialize in inheritance stipulations.”
“Like an heir doesn’t get access to their trust until they turn 30?”
“Oh, gosh no.” Tom shook his head. “It’s more like, the grandchild has a week to get married to a Lithuanian girl before everything goes to some CEO who is going to use the money to automate the family factory.”
“Really?”
“That kind of thing. There are a lot of ‘spend the night in a haunted house’ clauses. More haunted boats than you’d think, too.”
“Listen, I’m being sued over the possession of a few immortal souls. . .”
“I’m sorry, I’m not really a trial lawyer. I can give you a referral.”