OCTOBER 15, 2022 – (Cont.) “What’s your rate and retainer?”
“Nine ninety-five an hour plus expenses. I’ll need 250,000 to get started.”
“Two fifty?” asked Snipperskapper, his voice dropping off. “That’s pretty rich.”
“So is your boss,” I said. “Or at least that’s what he’d have us believe.”
“I’m not sure 250’s gonna work.”
“Sure it will,” I said. “Tell your boss I’m a great guy and the greatest legal talent ever—that’s language he ought to relate to. Plus, 250 is chump change for the richest guy in America who’s also the biggest crowd magnet in the history of the universe. What’s not to be sure about that?”
“You got a point there,” said Kippersnipper.
“Of course I do,” I said. “I’m the lawyer who throws strikes, remember?”
“Okay,” said the Don’s lackey. “I’ll send you the email address, and while I’m waiting for the letter and wire instructions, I’ll talk to Mr. Trump and round up the dough.”
“K. I’m on it.” With that, we concluded the call.
I took the TV off mute and grabbed more pistachios out of the dish. In my imaginary world, anything can happen—and often does.
As I took a moment to savor my dumb luck, I pondered an apparently long-established pattern on the part of the former president: the Klippersnipper hadn’t quizzed me at all about my qualifications, since applicable expertise doesn’t seem to matter when it comes to the Don’s hiring lawyers. A lawyer’s a lawyer. As long as she or he can talk nonsense, say “very, very, very,” and toss a wrench into the slow-churning wheels of justice, the Don is good to go. The lawyer, in turn, is good to hack away until (a) the lawyer’s retainer runs out; (b) the lawyer without a retainer realizes, “no retainer, no money”; (c) the lawyer quits talking nonsense; or (d) the lawyer is notified that she or he is under investigation for obstruction of justice.
In my pretend world, both the Don and I were all in—at least for the moment. I drove down to the Brook Brothers store in downtown Minneapolis. Over the years, I’d walked past the store a gazillion times but this was my first time inside the store. A sales woman was immediately on the case.
“I’m prepared to put down some major coinage,” I said, “on the condition that alterations and cuff monograms can be made on the spot, while I wait.”
“I think we can manage that,” the woman said. I didn’t see any other customers in the shop.
While I waited, I booked a Delta flight to Ft. Lauderdale and arranged for an über-limo-Uber to take me to Mar-A-Lago. (Cont.)
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
