The deputy district attorney cleared his throat. The word to describe him was telegenic. He was handsome and dark and his eyes seemed to carry the very wrath of justice in them.

“Your Honor, the state is prepared for trial and has no objection to proceeding on schedule. But I would ask that, if Mr. Elliot is so sure about proceeding without delay, he formally waive any appellate redress in this regard should things not go as he predicts in trial.”

The judge swiveled his chair so that his focus could go back on me.

“What about that, Mr. Haller?”

“Your Honor, I don’t think it’s necessary for my client to waive any protections that might be afforded to—”

“I don’t mind,” Elliot said, cutting in on me. “I’ll waive whatever you damn well please. I want to go to trial.”

I looked sharply at him. He looked at me and shrugged.

“We’re going to win this thing,” he explained.

“You want to take a moment in the corridor, Mr. Haller?” the judge asked.

“Thank you, Judge.”

I got up and signaled Elliot up.

“Come with me.”

We walked out into the short hallway that led to the courtroom. I closed the door behind us. Elliot spoke before I could, underlining the problem.

“Look, I want this thing over and I—”

“Shut up!” I said in a forced whisper.

“What?”

“You heard me. Shut the fuck up. You understand? I am sure you are quite used to talking whenever you want and having everybody listen to every brilliant word you say. But you are not in Hollywood anymore, Walter. You aren’t talking make-believe movies with this week’s mogulito. You understand what I’m saying? This is real life. You don’t speak unless you are spoken to. If you have something to say otherwise, then you whisper it into my ear and if I think it is worth repeating, then I — not you — will say it to the judge. You got it?”

It took Elliot a long time to answer. His face turned dark and I understood that I might be about to lose the franchise. But in the moment I didn’t care. What I had said needed to be said. It was a welcome-to-my-world speech that was long overdue.

“Yes,” he finally said, “I get it.”

“Good, then remember it. Now, let’s go back in there and see if we can avoid giving away your right to appeal if you happen to get convicted because I fucked up by being unprepared for trial.”

“That won’t happen. I have faith in you.”

“I appreciate that, Walter. But the truth is, you have no basis for that faith. And whether you do or don’t, it doesn’t mean we have to give anything away. Let’s go back in now, and let me do the talking. That’s why I get the big bucks, right?”