Brother from another mother

Harvey as a dad.[Part-8]

Only Harvey would try to grill in two pieces of a three piece suit. It was blisteringly hot, and yet Harvey stood next to the grill, prodding hot dogs and hamburgers, chicken patties, and veggie patties as though it wasn't the hottest Memorial Day in recent memory. If Mike hadn't been personally witness to Harvey sweating his ass off, usually after a run or going to the gym, he might have thought the man incapable. He also witnessed Harvey scruffy, unkempt, and generally frazzled on more occasions than anyone without his mega-brain could have counted.

His mega-brain was currently occupied but nothing of particular importance to a case, truth, justice or world peace, but instead the age-old question of how to keep cold things cold and hot things hot while it was a million degrees outside. Implementation was running slowly, the various kids from Hunter's little league team were running around out on the fields and mulched play areas of the park, most of the adults were spectating or mingling with each other, having long since dropped their food off with Mike. Mike was then left to put his brilliant idea into practice: ice, lots of ice. One of the great joys of having been an Associate was that Mike really tended to take menial labor as par for course - he only wished he could bill a client for it.

"Need a hand?" The polite request came from somewhere over his shoulder as he hauled yet another bag of ice toward the cold table.

Mike glanced. Woman, pretty, maybe five years older than Mike. "Sure. I'm actually behind on my veggie slicing duties, unless you want to haul ice with me?"

She made a gesture toward the table, and the small cooler than Mike had stored the onion, lettuce, and tomatoes to be sliced for salad fixings and Mike nodded. "Carrie Vance," she introduced herself as she picked up the knife and started to slice.

"Steve's mom," Mike filled in. Perfect memories were very useful for socializing. "Mike Ross, Hunter Davis' step-dad. Haven't see you at any games or practices - busy career?"

Mike could ask the question easily, and with no judgement, because damn it was hard for him and Harvey to juggle Hunter, even with Harvey's swan-like ability to move around and do fatherhood things. Mike's recent bump closer to Partner had made it more difficult for him to be the go-to dad.

"Executive Assistant," she answered. Mike glanced at her and saw a look that he knew well from Donna: don't call me a secretary.

"My old boss' EA runs the office, I swear." Mike continued to haul ice, broke it open, and spread it around the plastic bin they were using for cold things. "Anything you want, she makes it happen. I'm an Associate - third year, Partner track."

She didn't look impressed, but he knew what she was thinking: another asshole in a suit. Mike had long ago learned to shrug it off. People didn't know his story and judged him for how he looked: a kid in neat khakis with a fancy job. "How does an Associate have time for a cookout, even one on a public holiday?"

Banging the boss... Mike just smirked to himself while he headed back to the car for the last bag of ice. "I give my company a lot of billables, I do good work, and I fix all the stuff that needs the soft touch. And for that I am paid in Memorial Day, Christmas, and the Fourth of July." In truth his iPhone was still strapped to his ass, set to vibrate, should work need him. He watched Carrie finish up with the tomatoes and spread them out on the plate on top of the ice.

Speak of which... His phone buzzed, and he wiped a damp hand on his khakis before he pulled out his phone and read the text: 'Stop flirting with the soccer mom and get me a beer'. He snorted, looked up where Harvey was standing loose at the grill, one eye on the burgers.

"Get your own beer!"

Harvey - ever the communicator - punched another text on his Blackberry rather than holler. ':('