ALEX AND I stood in the Great Hall of the Home Office, waiting to be escorted to our respective areas, and watching a 15 year old me pet a tiger.

"I can't believe they're still using that image," I sighed. "You'd think they'd have gone with a different slogan by now."

"It's actually a very clever campaign," he replied. "It makes an impact, seeing a beautiful young girl petting a tiger." He nudged me. "If it's not broke, don't fix it."

I glanced at him. "Did I ever tell you that Patrick bet me a hundred bucks I didn't have the guts to pet that cat?"

Alex gathered me into his arms and kissed my forehead. "I know. I was there, remember?"

i scrunched my face up at him. "Were you? I don't remember that."

"Yes." He kissed me again. "Of course you weren't paying attention to me. You were too busy chasing Declan Cahill around."

I sighed and smiled. "Declan. Omigod, I'd forgotten about him. He's doing a nickel up at Rikers, poor thing."

He smiled back. "I love it when you talk prison slang, baby."

"Goes with my bullet wound," I grinned. "See? I'm a total mob moll."

"Gun moll."

"Whatever," I answered, while thinking I should maybe call Declan sometime. He was never as into me as he was into my brother Aidan's daughter, but he might change his mind when he saw my boobs...I mean me now.

"Anyway," Alex went on, squeezing me back into the moment, "when I saw you go up to that tiger, that was the moment I knew I was going to marry you."

I curled a lip. "Alex! I was 15 then!"

"I don't mean I was going to marry you at 15." He had the grace to look disgusted. "I mean that when I saw you walk up to that tiger and start petting it, I thought...well, I thought you were going to get killed, but the other thing I thought was that I was going to marry you."

"Why would my petting a big cat make you decide that I was your life partner?"

He cupped my face gently. "Because not only are you brilliant and beautiful, but you're brave. My girl plays with tigers. You are perfect."

All of that was very complimentary and very nice, but for some reason it rubbed me the wrong way. I looked down at the marble floor. "You forgot boobs. I'm brilliant, brave, beautiful, and I've got huge boobs."

He looked down at the topic of conversation. "I must agree. You do have a beautiful body."

"See. I'm like a real life Barbie doll with a knowledge of the dormant commerce clause." I paused thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, I should marry me. I'm a good catch."

He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. "You're irritated. What did I say?"

Oh, I don't know. How about boxing me into three distinct characteristics instead of considering the whole of me? I smiled; no point in trying to explain that to a man. "Nothing," I lied. "I'm just a little nervous. Besides, the pimp got turned on by the fact that I'm the girl who plays with tigers."

Alex's mouth thinned. "Constantinov figured out that was you?"

"Hello? It's obviously me. I've just added a couple cup sizes since then."

Before he could respond, we were approached by an administrative assistant who was followed by two security officers. "Mr. Cosetino, Miss McIver, welcome to the Home Office. Mr. Cosetino, if you'll come with me to the client areas. Miss McIver, security will escort you to the conference room.

I cut the woman a look. Security? I needed security? Somehow I wasn't so flattered this morning.

"No matter what happens, Siobhan, you'll be fine," he whispered. "Remember, you're the girl who plays with tigers."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked him, but he turned and walked off without an answer.

One of the security dudes cleared his throat. "Miss McIver..."

"I'm coming," I said. "Jeez."

They escorted me to an empty board room on the 5th floor.

"Can I get something to drink?" I asked them. "A bottle of water?"

They didn't answer, and left without a word. I heard the familiar click of a lock.

Of course they would lock me in. They wouldn't want a pyro running through the halls. That is, unless the pyro was a client. Then it's all good.

I waited for a freaking eternity. I spun around in a chair until I got so dizzy I thought I'd puke. Then I tried to go cart one by pushing it as fast as I could and then jumping in it. Finally, I decided to pace the length of the table, back and forth.

I was standing on the table when the side doors opened and my closest male relatives walked in. First to enter was my father's only surviving brother, Uncle Daniel. Next to file in were my brothers Aidan, Sean, and Colin. The last person was my Great Uncle Leland, the Firm's managing partner.

"Hiya, boys," I said. "Took you long enough."

"Siobhan, get off the table," snapped Leland. I jumped down and sat at one end while Leland sat at the opposite end, facing me.

"Hi Uncle Leland. Look at you, all not dead yet. That's a total accomplishment."

"Obnoxious as ever, I see," he muttered.

Leland's presence meant this was more than a disciplinary hearing. He was a fully committed member of Team Patrick, and like Patrick, he had always hated me.

As for me, I had reciprocal feelings of contempt towards him. There were several reasons for this, but the main one was because he had murdered my father. The official reports might have said hunting accident, but I still have difficulty understanding how my father's head could ever have reasonably been mistaken for a buck.

Notably, Patrick wasn't here. Usually whenever Patrick and I had a throwdown, we had to sit across the table and look at each other until we lied to everyone's satisfaction.

Uncle Daniel opened the meeting. "Good morning, Siobhan. Thank you for coming."

"Was there a choice, Uncle Dan? Where's Patrick? If you can't find him, you might want to check the local playground. Or maybe Costa Rica or Thailand.

He cleared his throat and shifted a little in his chair. "Patrick has had some...he was in an accident and can't be here today. His attendance, however, is not crucial for our business today."

I stared at him. "Patrick should be here. I have the right to confront my accuser."

"This is not a court of law," sighed Leland. "This is an interorganizational meeting. You do not have the same rights here as you would in a governmental setting."

"Says you. I won't talk without Patrick."

My brother Aidan cleared his throat. "Siobhan please, don't be difficult. This isn't adversarial. We only want to hear your side."

"Tell us what happened, Siobhan," added Sean "The quicker you tell us, the quicker this will all be over."

I studied the faces of the men around the table. With the exception of Leland, who looked downright happy, the rest looked composed, expressionless, and neutral. They wanted to know what happened? Fine.

"I walked into Patrick's office, where I discovered a group of naked underage girls engaged in lurid and depraved sexual congress," I told them. "Fearing for my life, I demanded that Patrick stop his moral turpitude, but then Patrick pulled out a firearm and shot me." I paused for a breath. "I presume he shot me to keep anyone from discovering his predatory and socially repugnant behavior, as well as to protect him from losing his license as a result of actions unfit for the practice of law."

"Damn, that's good," said Colin admirably. The others glared at him. "What? She's eloquent. I appreciate that."

"Thanks Colin."

"You bet, little sister."

"Enough," sighed Leland. "Patrick has a different explanation."

"His is the lie."

"He claims you barged in uninvited, assaulted his secretary, interrupted an important client meeting, and then tried to kill him and the client with lit bottles of alcohol."

"Oh yeah," I laughed. "That whole weird interpretation of client meeting. I think he thinks client meeting is a euphemism for sex with children." I stared at Leland. "You're the managing partner. You might want to talk to him."

"The client was Nicolae Constantinov," continued Leland, as if I hadn't said anything. "He is very important to our firm."

I nodded. "I can imagine. The guy reeked of criminal intent. He kept trying to buy me."

"It is not ours to judge the actions of our clients," intoned Uncle Leland, "but to make sure that the government follows its own precepts if they should accuse them of actions outside the law."

"True," I agreed. "Yet forcing underage girls to perform sexual acts in an office in this building undermines the very foundation of our Firm," I intoned back. "It makes us a party to criminal acts. We defend the accused, but we don't condone their behavior."

"There's no evidence that there were any underage girls in Patrick's office at the time of the attack," Leland retorted. "Patrick has, in fact, denied their very presence."

I smiled at him. "You shot my father."

Leland turned red and moved forward as if to attack me, but my Uncle Daniel placed a hand on his arm.

"Leland, Siobhan, stop squabbling," said Daniel. "We are well aware what Patrick was doing in his office, and we all agree that it was abhorrent and a black mark against the stature and dignity of this Firm." He turned to me. "We also understand your anger at what you must have seen, Siobhan. What we fail to understand is why you simply didn't go get help."

"What help was there to get? Even his own secretary called it a client meeting."

"You could have gone to security and filed a complaint," said Aidan.

"I did file a complaint," I told him. "It was through a nonverbal action. The Supreme Court calls that protected speech, by the way."

Leland groaned, but before he could say anything, Sean jumped in. "Tell us what happened after the altercation."

"I went to medical, got stitched up, and was falsely imprisoned for several hours."

"Falsely imprisoned," muttered Leland. "You were hardly falsely imprisoned.

"False imprisonment is defined as the non-consensual, intentional confinement of a person, without lawful privilege, for an appreciable length of time, however short." I told him, and added, "U.S. v. McMiller, 2010. Do you need me to write it down for you?"

He smiled and ran a finger along his throat. I wiped the corner of my eye with my middle finger.

Sean cut Leland a look but then said, "We know the elements of false imprisonment. That's not the issue at bar. The issue is whether or not you made any phone calls while you were waiting in medical."

"How would I make any phone calls? I didn't have access to a phone."

"So you are saying you didn't call anyone while you were in medical?"

"I had no access to a phone while I was in medical. Thus, I could place no calls because I had no access to a phone."

Aidan opened his Ipad and pressed play. I heard myself ask to speak to Special Agent Donnelly.

"Oh, that phone call," I said, thumping myself on the head.. "I totes forgot all about that. Sorry. Wait, the Constitution and rules of court don't apply here, so I'm not sorry."

Aidan closed the Ipad. "You are aware of the rules of attorney client privilege?"

I turned to him."What, those apply now? Can you all give me a list of what's in play? I'm having a hard time keeping up."

"While you're on McIver soil, the rules of discretion apply to every member of the family, regardless of their status or the license to practice law," stated Leland. "By calling the FBI and informing them of the actions of a client while on McIver soil, you betrayed our trust and the trust of our firm."

"Okay, so let me get this straight. The U.S. Constitution, state and federal law, and the rules of court are not in play. Attorney client privilege in play. I think I'm getting it."

"Siobhan..." Uncle Daniel rubbed his forehead like he was fighting off a headache. "We are known for our ability to keep secrets. This one event can undermine a century of good will towards our clients."

"So, if attorney client privilege is in play, what about the ABA standards of legal professionalism? Because, you know, having sex with children in a law office a multinational firm just screams moral turpitude."

Leland slammed his hand on the table. "You informed on a major client and gave the federal government probable cause to search our house!"

That was it. I felt my temper slip away. "They were little girls, Leland. It was wrong!"

"The girls don't matter!" Leland roared. "They aren't our clients!"

I opened my mouth, but Uncle Dan cut me off. "Enough, Leland. Siobhan. This isn't about morality. We understand your outrage, Siobhan, but there were other, more temperate, paths available to you."

"The situation didn't call for temperance, Uncle Daniel."

He looked down. "We believe otherwise."

"Siobhan," said Sean, "this is going to be difficult."

I turned to Sean. "What's going to be difficult?"

Sean met my eyes. "After a lengthy deliberation considering all the known facts, the partners have decided to revoke your standing in the family."

I stared at him. "What? What do you mean?"

"You've been disavowed, Mary Siobhan McIver," explained Uncle Daniel. "Your name will be removed from all family papers and businesses. All monies, trusts, bonuses, and inheritances will revert back to the firm." He cleared his throat. "We will, however, allow you to remain known as Mary Siobhan McIver."

I opened, then closed, my mouth. "I don't understand," I finally said.

"Mary Siobhan McIver. As a result of your actions, and yours alone, you have lost your place in this firm and your seat at the table." Leland smiled a skull's smile. "Do you need me to write it down for you?"

There it went. Everything I ever wanted, everything I ever thought I would do, stripped from me in an instant. My mind went blank; my body numb. I couldn't think, I couldn't feel, I didn't know what to feel.

"This meeting is adjourned," said Leland as he stood up. "It's for the best, really, Mary Siobhan. Women are not suited for the practice of law. Get married, take your husband's name, and have babies." He turned towards the door, then stopped. "You should also cultivate the more feminine virtues of sweetness, charm, and obedience, lest you terrorize any man you meet and remain an unmarried shrew."

With that, the ice in my veins shattered. "You know, God sees this and He judges, and He will judge you!"

"Then we better get busy on the appeal," Leland mocked, winked at me, and closed the door.

_____ * _____ * _____ * _____ * _____

Siobhan's family sucks.

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©Copyright Liz Charnes May 2018

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