Reasons I Love My Fancy Pants Beverly Hills Lawyer

Because his pants are fancy.

I’m certain he pays more for his suits than my car would go for on Craigslist. He undoubtedly has like two hundred ties, color coded in gradating order to match his shirts, like Richard Gere in American Gigolo only originally from Sherman Oaks and holding a Yale diploma.

Because he has a secretary who likes to be called that. She’s slightly overweight and wears glasses, hose and sensible heels in a town where low-rise jeans, an exposed coin slot and a tiny hint of an attitude are de rigeur among executive assistants.

Because his office provides a selection of beverages on a tray. You get to pour your own into cut crystal glasses, plopping in some cubes of ice from a bucket with a pair of silver tongs. The tray appears to be sterling, though one can never be sure without turning it over, which would of course be tacky. My current plan is to drop a paper clip, squat down to retrieve it and look up through the glass table to read the stamp and hallmark. Not that I've given it much thought.

Because he represents any number of A-list movie stars whose names I’d like to drop at big Hollywood dinner parties. Of course I don’t go to any big Hollywood dinner parties, but boy are they impressed by my connections at the Ralph’s deli counter, where I generally dine and dish.

Because he sends me letters on super heavy stationery with a very high linen content. Heck, it might even be linen. So what if it does wrinkle easily and not wear well past Labor Day? The point is it’s engraved! With his name, a lot of other names and a fabulous address.

Because one such letter, hands down my all-time favorite, suggests it “appropriate” for the studio to pay any and all WGA dues I may or may not be behind on, above and beyond a contracted fee I would already describe as a “crapload.”

Because he scrawls pissy little notes all over my contracts that any idiot could tell you will never become even remotely relevant in my case. Possibly my favorite: “After commencement of principal photography, if ever, Writer shall receive an expense allowance of $1,750 $2,000 per week in major cities such as New York, London and Los Angeles and $1,500 $1,750 elsewhere."

Because a long time ago my dad was a fancy pants Beverly Hills lawyer. He, too, had a mahogany desk and a fountain pen. Before retiring to Ponchadilla to grow oranges, he drove the large Mercedes, ate steak for lunch and hired older secretaries openly smarter than he. Even with all the dreams I'm indulging in Hollywood, I never imagined finding another man to look out for me with Dad's brand of old school class.