One year prior.

The door to your office was slightly ajar.

“Peter… a word?” Your boss, Mr. Belmont was waiting.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“I need you to come with me to court tomorrow.”

You were confused. You were just a rookie lawyer at the firm. You had been mostly making wills and contracts.

Mr. Belmont sighed

“Everyone else has the flu and I need backup.”

“Sure, sir, what case is this?”

“My divorce…” he said.

It suddenly made sense. He was going to take the stand and needed another attorney there to ask the questions.

He walked in and closed the door.

“Son… I have a confession to make. I’m gay. My husband William and I have been married for six years and… it’s over between us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that sir.”

“Only the more senior partners knew about my personal life.” He added.

“That’s your choice sir, they call it ‘personal’ for a reason, after all.”

“So I take it you’re going to keep this to yourself?”

You nodded. “I value my job to much to lose it over loose lips, sir.”

“Smart… 9AM, civil court.”

You nodded as he walked out.

24 hours later.

“That rat bastard…” Mr. Belmont complained as you and he walked out of court.

The case had gone in he’s now ex-husband’s favor. $10 million in alamony upfront and $500,000 a year.

“I’m sorry, sir…”

“No… no don’t blame yourself. You did exactly what I asked and did it well. I see you going places in this field… I’m just not sure with our ferm… not with that bill hanging over my head. Come one. I need a drink…”

The two of you walked a few blocks to a nearby bar. From the onset it was obviously a gay bar.

“Hey George…” the man behind the bar said.

“Hey John…” Mr. Belmont said.

“Already found yourself a new boy toy?” The bartender teased.

“This is one of my associates, Peter Layton. He was assisting me in my case today. Peter this is John Belmont, my cousin. He runs the place.”

“Hey cutie…” he flirted towards you.

“Not now…” Mr. Belmont said. “Beer me… now…”

“Alright… alright… spoilsport…” John said.

John poured Mr. Belmont a beer and he plopped down on the barstool.

“How bad?” John asked.

“$10 million by next week. $500K for the rest of my life…”

“Okay, that sounds like a two beers kinda problem…”

“I haven’t even finished this one…”

“I’m talking about me…” John said, pouring himself one and going to lock the door.

You sat there, nursing your drink and playing with your phone.

You set it down and before the screen turns off, Mr. Belmont gets a look at it.