the means to escape // mooney&songyi
It wasn’t often that Mooney got into hot water. There’d been several close shaves but she’d always found a way out of them herself. Usually with some rather unpleasant meetings with those involved, but it always ended in her favor. The last time she’d needed outside help had been sometime in the 20′s (or was it the 30′s?) when the American gang scene was wilder than she’d expected and she’d ended up on the chopping block for aiding in arson of all things. Really, the charges were ridiculous and wrong, but anything they could have pinned on her, they would’ve.
This time seemed even dumber. A customer--a regular for god’s sake--had decided to bring in a bust on the Manor because he thought she ripped him off and even though Mooney saw the cops in her lounge nearly every night indulging in her wares, they had to “do their job” and file some inflated charges against her. Not even for running a brothel, not even for housing criminals, not even for anything that she was actually doing, but for tax evasion. Tax evasion!
No one was willing to budge on this one, no matter how much money Mooney waved in front of their noses, so she had no choice but to find some legal support. Luckily for her, all of her connections rushed to her rescue with business cards from all of their attorneys, throwing them at her until her desk was covered in the little card-stock notes. One in particular had stood out and Mooney hadn’t wasted a second booking an appointment with the promising sounding attorney.
“Moon Songyi?” Mooney stood outside the door to her office, tapping gently on the frame. “I believe I’m your 12 o’clock. If you still have time, anyway.” If she had learned anything about the legal type in her years, it was that they could change their minds at the tip of their hat, and she did not want to lose an opportunity to work with such a highly-suggested attorney. She couldn’t afford even a day of jail-time, not with her girls at home and her business at an all-time high.
