Rough Trade

endowed waitresses in skimpy outfits. Got up in short shorts and tight-fitting tops, the female food servers earned all of $2.13 an hour plus tips dispensing food, drinks, and jiggle at over two hundred restaurants around the country. The company had recently settled a class action suit that had been brought against them by seven Chicago men who’d claimed sexual discrimination when the chain had refused to hire them as waiters.
    “I thought that thing was settled,” protested Eisenstadt, for whom the facts had never been much of a strong suit.
    “Yes. For almost $4 million, which was peanuts compared to what the government tried to get them for, which as I recall was damages plus setting up a $22 million fund to assist ‘dissuaded’ male job applicants. In the end I’m sure the suit cost the company something like $6 million. Besides, you’re forgetting, Tit-Elations isn’t as classy as Hooters. At Hooters the waitresses not only wear clothes, but they actually serve food.”
    “Let’s not start splitting hairs-—”
    “If Avco’s looking at a potential $6 million settlement, then you and I both know there’s no question that this suit will have a material adverse impact on the company’s financial performance. That, I remind you, is the issue at hand. Not whether tank tops and pasties are similar articles of clothing.”
    “And I’m telling you that this kind of frivolous suit is already covered by the routine-litigation-incidental-to-the-conduct-of-business clause in the registration document.”
    “It’s really a question of where you draw the line between what is material and what is incidental. That’s a lot of what-ifs. I just wonder whether in your zeal to deliver what you’ve promised to the client, you’re losing sight of your responsibilities in this.”
    “Our responsibility at this point is to get this deal closed,” snapped Stuart.
    “By making sure that the letter of the law is satisfied,” I shot back. “That’s what I have to sign my name to, and I’m telling you right now that I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to risk exposing this firm to shareholder lawsuits down the road based on our failure to make necessary disclosure. Frankly, I don’t care enough about whether the world has more topless bars to take the risk.”
    “I knew it,” seethed Eisenstadt. “This has nothing to do with the law. This is about the fact that you’re so uptight about a little skin that you can’t see straight. If this were some other kind of company, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation!”
    “If this was a different kind of company, I wouldn’t be worried about how Tillman will look on Hard Copy,” I pointed out. “You’re the one who took us into the gutter in the first place. Don’t insult my intelligence by trying to convince me that we’re on some mountaintop.”
    “I always knew you were a prude,” said Eisenstadt. “Right or wrong, that still doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to call the client right now and tell them that we need to call the SEC and edit the language in the legal proceedings section before I’ll sign off on it.”
    “I’m going to bring this up with Tillman and the management committee,” huffed Eisenstadt.
    “Be my guest,” I said. “But if you think that I’m a prude, wait until you talk to them.”
     

CHAPTER 13
     
     
    I’m usually not one of those lawyers who let their clients’ problems keep them up at night—those are the guys who make their psychiatrists rich instead of making partner— but that night in Chrissy’s guest room I could not sleep. While there is something about a late-night conference call with your client that turns into a screaming match that hardly seems designed to facilitate slumber, it wasn’t Avco that was keeping me awake. It was Beau Rendell’s murder.
    As I tossed and turned in Chrissy’s guest room I struggled to put what had happened into some kind of focus, but any sort of rational perspective stubbornly eluded me. I felt as though no matter how hard I tried, I was always either too close to things or too far away to see them clearly. The problem was that when it came to Chrissy and Jeff, I was completely incapable of being objective.
    It wasn’t just that I had a hard time believing that my friends were involved in anything as sordid as murder, but that I felt torn between the two roles that I was being called upon to play. I had the nagging sensation of always being