18
Andrew parked his new hybrid SUV near the curb in front of his condo. He was no longer constrained by La Grue, Harris, Goodman, Beller, and Polone, Attorneys at Law, and he was no longer held back by his father’s expectations of Whittaker lawyers since the dawn of man, so he sold the Mercedes he never liked to begin with—what’s the use of an expensive car when you’re stuck in the same traffic as the slob driving the Ford Pinto next to you?—and bought the car he wanted for a change. It wasn’t the most prestigious car in the world, but that didn’t matter. Andrew liked the way it looked. He liked the way it drove. It was big enough to strap a child or two into the back, and it was a hybrid, which pleased Mark. When Andrew opened the back he pulled out Mark’s luggage—two rollaway cases—the
