Lunch Time

The last stint for the morning saw Garrison wrapping up his case. This was a little more interesting because it featured the memo that you and the girls had found during your week of sorting documents in the conference room. You had to stifle your smile and chuckle a little as you remembered just what the three of you had been doing a half hour before you found it.

That seemed to be the only highlight though, and even that Garrison somehow managed to introduce into evidence without any fanfare or big shocks from the lawyers for the defence. Some of the time you wondered if the judge was even awake.

Garrison wrapped up his case around 12:30, and the Judge was awake enough to call an hour and a half lunch. When you all came back, it would be the defence's turn to start their rebuttal.

The four of you interns were gathered up with Garrison and the associates outside in the hall. “Let's meet downstairs in about ten minutes,” he said. “I’ll call in a reservation for us all. Lunch will be on the firm today and we’ll go over the case with you four.”

The associates didn’t seem particularly happy to be sharing lunch with you lowly interns but didn’t seem particularly put out by it either. You all broke up to go to the washrooms before meeting downstairs. After hitting the head and washing up, you headed down the corridor towards the main atrium area and started down the ramp. Looking out over the main floor at the big mosaic pattern in the circular, brightly lit area you spotted Eric already waiting, doing something on his phone as he stood alone.

Then you saw trouble like a stormcloud rolling in.

You wanted to call out to Eric, give him some sort of warning, but that would just draw attention. Quickly pulling out your phone, you called him. You watched Eric react as his phone started buzzing in his hand, then frown as he saw it was you calling him. He answered the phone. “John?”

“Eric, turn left. Do not look right,” you said.

“What?” he said loudly and looked right.

You could tell the moment they made eye contact. Eric locked gazes with DeezChains about fifteen paces away from each other.

“Fuck,” you said.

“Fuck,” Eric replied through the phone.

“Fucker!” DeezChains said loudly, almost in a surprised shout. Then he pointed right at Eric and broke away from the small group of people he was with. One of them was the smarmy friend you remembered sitting with him at the club, and another one looked a hell of a lot like a bouncer or bodyguard. The last one, suited up, was probably his agent or lawyer. All three of them were confused for a moment as their man stormed off seemingly at random.

“Eric I’m coming, just don’t engage,” you said and hung up.

You didn’t exactly sprint, but you walked really, really quickly down the ramp from the second floor, circling around the whole atrium to try and get there. You quickly called Gemma, who was higher on the speed dial simply due to alphabetical listing. She didn’t pick up, so you called Sabrina.

“Hey, what’s-”

“Stay up there,” you said quickly. “The DeezChains guy is here and confronting Eric. Don’t let Gemma come down here.” You hung up without waiting for an answer as you hit the bottom of the ramp and rushed through the busy area towards the sound of loud voices.

“I’ll fucking sue you into the ground right here, you little prick,” DeezChains was growling loudly. “You fuckin’ wanna be. You’ve got nothing, you are nothing. Just some hatchet job waiting to fuckin’ happen.” He was acting about as gangsta as you expected, his friend and his bodyguard ‘holding him back’ from Eric. The lawyer had gotten between them.

“What the hell is your problem, you fake-ass beta,” Eric was saying, pointing over the lawyer's shoulder. He wasn’t quite as loud as DeezChains, but he wasn’t quiet and the growing crowd could definitely hear him. And record him. “You got a problem with me, you scumbag? You dodge every interview and bullshit your excuses for being a pussy who can’t even rizz a girl on your own. You’re so fake and the entire goddamn internet knows it now.”

You made it through the clustering crowd and stepped between Eric and the lawyer, pressing Eric back and away from the confrontation. “We gotta go, dude,” you said. “Eric, just let him look like the crazy person. We need to go.”

“Look at this little bitch, running away to mommy,” DeezChains called. “Wait a fucking second, that’s the fucking guy! That’s the guy! Hey, you ghetto-ass punk, I’m talking to you now. I’m gonna tear you a new fucking asshole and you’ll shit out money with how big the lawsuit is going to be. You fucking weak-ass, cock-breathed little nothing! Let me at him, he can’t do shit.”

You knew he was talking to, or at, or at least about you now, but you didn’t particularly care as Eric let you push him towards the edge of the crowd. The last fucking thing you needed was to escalate the situation.

Then, like magic, Gemma appeared at the edge of the crowd right where you were directing Eric. She took one look at you, and at DeezChains, and she rolled her eyes and shot a double middle finger in his direction.

There was a squeak of shoes on the tile and you looked over your shoulder to see that DeezChains and pressed between his friend and bodyguard and was rushing in your direction. “That’s the fuckin’ bitch!” he shouted. “That’s her! Kongo, fuckin’ do a citizens arrest on the blonde cunt right fucking there! She’s the fuckin’ ringleader in the whole fuckin’ thing. I’m gonna fucking own you like a fuckin’ pimped-out whore when I’m done with you.”

You could suffer insults to yourself just fine. You could even get over the insults to Eric as your friend, or even Gemma as your girlfriend since she could handle herself just fine in a shit-talk-off.

There was no way in hell you were letting either of those guys put a hand on Gemma.

You gave Eric one final little shove and pivoted. “Hey, dickweed,” you said loudly. “Go fuck yourself, your shitty music, your failed internet career, and your harassing-ass inability to talk to a woman with any respect. Get the fuck out of here and leave us alone.”

DeezChains had made it halfway to Gemma and you stepped right in his way as you were talking. He lunged for you, cocking his fist back. Behind him, trying to shove through the crowd, you could see uniformed bailiffs trying to get to the confrontation.

You didn’t try to block the incoming punch. You stuck your chin out and grit your teeth, preparing to take the punch. It would hurt, but it would seal the deal in whatever came after this.

His first came forward. His lawyer was shouting, trying to get him to stop. His bodyguard was trying to grab him and pull him back, but wasn’t going to be successful.

You lurched sideways as you got shoved, out of the way of the punch.

But the punch did hit something.

Or someone.

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