top notch attorneys, then the money would follow.
New Man Johnson wanted the money now. And as much as possible. It was a business to him, not a profession.
"Okay." I wasn't sure what else to say.
"You have the most clients here," he went on.
I knew that. Everyone knew that. I pretended not to, though. "Oh, really. Well, that's nice."
Johnson smiled, but a cold smile. "It is and it isn't," he said. "You charge less than the other attorneys."
That was news to me. I said so.
"No, everyone else is raising their rates, Mike," he explained. "You need to too."
I shrugged. It had been a while since I'd raised my hourly rate. I supposed we could do that. "Okay, I'll have Danielle modify my fee agreement. I've got a prospective client coming in this afternoon. Messy divorce. Kids, pets, boat. I'll start with him."
Johnson laughed, but a cold laugh. "No, Mike. Don't start with him. Raise your rates on all your clients. You have the most clients, that means you're costing us the most money with your low rates."
"But they have fee agreements," I protested too quickly. "I can't just raise my rates."
Johnson's smile and laugh—cold or not—were gone. "You don't care about the financial well being of this firm?" he accused.
I was staggered. "Of course I do. But I have contracts I need to honor. I agreed to do certain work at a certain rate. I can't just—"
"You can and you will," he interjected. "Raise your hourly rate by seventy five dollars. If they refuse to pay it, tell them we're done doing any more work for them. The last thing they'll want to do is go find another attorney, and if they do start looking most will charge that much or more. They'll pay it, Mitchell. Oh, they'll pay it."
I was disappointed in him. "That's not how your father would have—" I started but he cut me off.
"I'm not my father!" Johnson slammed the desk and stood up. He leaned over the large oaken table and jabbed a finger in my face. "I don't want to be my father! The days of my father running this business like a goddamn hobby are over. My kids aren't going to miss out on things they need just because their old man is too chicken shit to try and make a solid profit!"
I knew better than to say anything. I'm sure he already regretted blurting out as much as he had. I waited a moment for the blood to run out of his face and for his finger to drop a notch.
"Got it," I said. I couldn't bring myself to call him 'Mr. Johnson.' "If that's all..."
He regained himself a bit and stepped back. "Yes, yes, that's it." He picked up his figures and charts. "We can talk more after my lunch with Jason."
I forced a smile. "That'll be great," I said. Lunch with Jason. I swallowed my pride and added, "Mr. Johnson."
I walked back to my office to find Jason looking out my window.
"Nice view," he said when I came in. "Just admiring it."
"Don't start measuring the drapes yet, Fletcher," I growled.
"You're not gonna have this office forever," he shot back. "Things are gonna be changing around here."
"Yeah, I just got the memo," I said. "Now if you'd kindly leave, I guess I need to start calling some of my clients."
Before he could protest, Danielle walked in again. She leaned forward and placed some papers on my desk. Her boobs practically landed on top of them. "These were just filed on the Cunningham matter."
I managed to only look at her tits for a second before looking at the pleadings. It took all I could do not to look at her ass when she left.
Fletcher didn't even try not to look. He even whistled quietly as she stepped out.
"Damn, Mr. Mitchell. You've got one hot secretary."
"She's a good secretary," is all I replied as I scanned the motion to dismiss that Danielle had brought me.
"So, how do you think she'd look," Fletcher asked, "with my dick in her mouth?"
I dropped the motion. "Okay, that's uncalled for."
Fletcher put up his hands, but his smarmy smile remained. "Whoa, whoa. Sorry, sir. I thought you were done with her."
I narrowed my