He had been wrong.

But Bernie was not easily discouraged. He then persuaded his partners to take Matt in as a "paralegal," a wonderful all-encompassing term that, for the most part, seemed to mean "scut work."

The partners at Carter Sturgis didn't like it, at first. No surprise, of course. An ex-con at their white-shoe law firm? That simply wouldn't do. But Bernie appealed to their purported humanity: Matt would be good for public relations. He would show that the firm had heart and believed in second chances, at least in theoretical spin. He was smart. He would be an asset. More to the point, Matt could take on the large bulk of the firm's pro bono cases, freeing the partners to gouge the deep pockets without the distraction of the underclass.

The two closers: Matt would work cheap- what choice did he have? And Brother Bernie, a major-league rainmaker, would walk if they didn't agree.

The partners considered the scenario: Maybe do good and help yourself? It was the kind of logic upon which charities are built.

Matt's eyes stayed on the blank phone screen. His pulse did a little two-step. Who, he wondered, is that guy with the blue-black hair?

Rolanda put her hands on her hips. "Earth to doofus," she said.

"What?" Matt snapped out of it.

"You okay?"

"Me? I'm fine."

Rolanda gave him a funny look.

The camera phone vibrated again. Rolanda stood with her arms crossed. Matt looked back at her. She did not get the hint. She rarely did. The phone vibrated again and then the Batman theme started up.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Rolanda said.

He glanced down at the phone. The caller ID blinked out his wife's phone number again.

"Yo, Batman."

"I'm on it," Matt said.

His thumb touched on the green send button, lingering there for a moment before it pressed down. The screen lit up anew.