Big Law (4 page)

I
FUMBLED WITH MY
pad of paper and nervously entered conference room 23A—the largest one in the office, usually reserved for impressing clients. The last time I was here was for the “coffee taste test party” when I was a summer associate. The events coordinator had lined up ten types of coffee from around the world, including a rare bean flown in from the Coffee Expo that retailed for $80 a cup. A coffee sommelier walked us through the different types as we sipped samples and munched on pastries from Payard. But the only offerings today were thermoses of Starbucks and pastries from the cafeteria.

Anxiously tugging at the hem of my skirt, I took a deep breath as my body flooded with adrenaline. When Ben told me to attend the kick-off meeting I’d nodded dutifully, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush creeping across my neck. Normally only partners or senior associates attend kick-off meetings, so for Ben to bestow the honor on a mid-level associate was unusual. It felt like an invitation to the inner circle of F&D royalty, sending my heart rate sky high.

Senior associates from all practice groups buzzed anxiously around the overgrown mahogany table running the length of the room with leather chairs tucked neatly under it. Knowing there wouldn’t be enough seats for everyone, I perched on a credenza off to the side—it was career suicide to do otherwise. The most senior lawyers get the seats. Always. I’ve seen women so pregnant they look ready to pop standing, not wanting to break this unspoken code of
conduct. Even the order of email addresses in a CC line of an email is supposed to be arranged according to seniority, starting with the most senior partner and ending with the most junior associate. Some partners won’t even read emails if their name isn’t in the pole position.

The air felt charged with power and influence. The grandness of the room, with its wall-to-wall windows, the imposing Empire State Building looming in the distance, and the grey suits practically oozing testosterone, gave me the sense that I’d just stepped onto the set of
Wall Street
. At any minute Gordon Gekko would appear and announce, “Greed is good.”

Sitting here (okay, perched here) I felt like I’d made it to the big leagues. I could almost hear Carly Simon’s “Let the River Run,” playing, while I stood in my corner office, smiling triumphantly. Despite being a small cog in a big wheel, and even knowing that this deal would engulf my life, I couldn’t suppress my smile.

Surreptitiously, I looked around the room. The key partners in every department were here. There was Ron Richards, head of the Labor and Employment Department and self-described “unions’ worst nightmare.” Alongside him stood Anthony Booth, head of the Real Estate Department, the oldest partner at sixty-seven, refusing retirement and leveraging his many loyal clients to prevent it. Steven Burrows, head of the Intellectual Property Department, was there too. He’d earned the nickname “Seven” because of an acceptance speech he gave during an awards dinner for The Top 40 Lawyers Under 40, announcing that his greatest accomplishment did not relate to his practice, but instead was when he engaged in all seven deadly sins in one day. Scott Kesler, head of the Environmental Law Department, had even made an appearance. He was responsible for figuring out how our clients could avoid any law enacted to protect the environment. Finally, there was Anton Waldorf, head of the Tax Department, best known around the firm for berating a pregnant associate, bringing her to tears and then telling her the tears were the reason the firm hated breeders. He was also one of the highest paid partners in the entire firm, which just reinforces the theory that there is an inverse relationship between money and mental stability.

Numerous junior associates in other departments would learn their Friday night fate following this meeting. They would have to make the same call to their friends that I had to make an hour ago. Kim was disappointed I’d be missing out on 90’s movie trivia night, but I promised her I’d have six months of free evenings when I landed the StarCorp secondment.

The collective breath of everyone in the conference room was held when Vincent Krieder swaggered in. If F&D had an organizational chart of partners, Vincent would be the box at the top. Not only was he a four corner partner in the corporate department, but Vincent was the grand poobah. The mere presence of Vincent in this meeting confirmed the tremendous importance of the deal to the firm.

Vincent came up behind Ben, setting both hands on his shoulders for a three second massage. “Ready for this?” He took his seat at the head of the large table without waiting for an answer. “Welcome, gentlemen … ladies.” He looked around the room, taking us each in, his voice commanding immediate attention. “Happy Friday, everybody,” he added dryly. “This is a big one, guys … big.” He paused for effect. “You all know that Pegasus lost two key public pension investment funds when they purchased Lexington Group, the largest ammunition company in the country. It was —” He paused. “Well, let’s just call it unfortunate timing.”

Heads nodded somberly all around. I’d learned from Google that two days after Pegasus had purchased the Lexington Group their bestselling assault rifle had been the weapon of choice in a mass shooting. To make matters worse, the Lexington Group took to Twitter and fired off a fairly objectionable tweet about the right to bear arms. It was a public relations disaster for Pegasus.

“And now they need to scrub their image. The pension investment funds that invest large amounts of money in private equity funds like Pegasus have publicly stated they are going to pay closer attention to what their money is being used to purchase. Who the fuck knows why?” Vincent threw his hands up. A few chuckles ensued.

“We need to negotiate and sign a binding purchase agreement with Highlander Hotels in time for Pegasus’s annual general meeting, which is February 28th so they can announce the acquisition to
the investors. And they need the deal to close before their fiscal year ends, which is the end of May.”

Partners around the table furrowed their brows.

Vincent grasped his chin and thought for a moment. “Now, in terms of the client’s wants and their expectations—they said they WANT this deal to happen so I told them to EXPECT it to be expensive.” More chuckles. “In terms of what we actually
know
—it’s limited.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Anton Waldorf quipped, grabbing a strawberry Danish from the platter of shiny baked goods laid out for the meeting.

Vincent gave Anton the finger. With so many egos in one room, it didn’t take long for the grandstanding to begin.

“Okay, here is what we know, other than that Waldorf is an asshole.” He continued to fill us in on the details as I furiously scribbled notes.

Vincent laid his palms flat against the conference room table and slowly slid them back and forth, a tiny smirk breaking across his face. “They want this, guys—let me be crystal clear about that. Cost is not an issue. If you are in the shower
thinking
about this deal, bill it. If you are away from your desk, but have a Highlander document on your computer screen, bill it.”

“If you’re fucking your mistress in a Highlander Hotel, bill it,” Waldorf called out. I mentally rolled my eyes. The only shocking thing about his statement was how unshocked everyone in the room was.

“You get the idea.” Vincent slapped the table and stood up. “Let’s get this done and our year is set.” With that, the big guns filed out of the room, leaving us peons to follow behind them.

“Well, you look surprisingly happy for someone who just told me she’ll have no life for the next six months.” Jason entered my office and passed me a white plastic bag.

“What’s this?” I peeked inside.

“A chopped salad from Toasties and a black and white cookie,” he confirmed. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to make it out for lunch and I didn’t want you starving.”

“How did you know that I was just debating whether the stale granola bar in my drawer could substitute for lunch?” I kicked off my shoes, crossed my legs in my chair, and began digging in.

“Because I know how you get when you’re focused on something.” He grinned.

I did have a tendency to throw myself into my tasks. Kim used to refer to me as “Rocky” when I would study for my final exams. “It’s like you disappear into the Russian mountains, training for weeks,” she’d teased. “And when you come back you have this crazy focus, like the Eye of the Tiger.” The description always made me laugh, but whenever I got an A I did picture myself at the top of the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, pumping my fists triumphantly.

“You know me too well,” I replied, beaming.

“And it’s because I know you so well that I can recognize that worried look in your eyes.” He wagged his finger at me. “The one you get when you think you’re in over your head. Trust me, you’re going to do an amazing job and Ben is going to be begging you to take that secondment. I mean, out of everyone he could’ve picked, Ben chose
you
to work on the biggest deal in the firm. I’d take that as a pretty good sign that you’re capable.” He gave me a quick wink. I’d always found winking cheesy, but Jason managed to do it in a way that was endearing.

“Ben did sound pretty ominous about the work load with this one.” I chewed on the side of my fingernail. “He actually used the word ‘Herculean.’”

Jason burst out laughing. “Ben sure has a flare for drama.”

“That’s nothing. Apparently he told the first years this was going to be a marathon and to stay hydrated.” I rolled my eyes.

Jason hooted and slapped his leg. Now he had me laughing too. I could feel the anxiety draining from my body.

“So.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I take it this means you aren’t going to be able to make it to my cousin’s wedding?”

I grimaced. “When is that again?”

“In three weeks …” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking contrite. Canceled plans were the norm in Biglaw, but it was still tough to see Jason’s disappointed expression. “You know I would try to get the time off if I could, but I need to knock it out of the park with this one. Chances to land a career opportunity like the StarCorp secondment just don’t come along every day.”

“Neither do family weddings.” Jason flashed that killer smile that I love. He knew that all social plans we made always had an asterisk attached—work dependent. He just wanted to make me squirm a little longer.

“I could see if I could get away for a day,” I lobbed, hoping he wouldn’t take me up on the offer.

“Don’t worry about the wedding.” Jason rubbed my shoulders. “It’s not even a cousin that I particularly like. You focus on being Hercules.” He pinched my bicep playfully. “And impressing Mr. Dramatic.”

I put my hand over his. What had I ever done in my life to deserve such a sweet, understanding boyfriend? Whatever it was, I was grateful I’d done it. “I really am sorry I have to miss it,” I murmured.

He pressed his mouth right next to my ear and whispered. “Don’t worry. You totally got this.”

“O
KAY
.” I
LOOKED AROUND
the table, feeling puffed up because I was the most senior associate in the room. It was our first meeting in the “war room”—a conference room on the thirtieth floor that was reserved indefinitely for “Project Mojo,” the codename given for the deal. As first year associates, Gavin Shin, Patrick O’Shea, and Sheldon Laurie were too junior to attend the kick-off meeting, so I was responsible for filling them in on what happened and doling out the specific duties. When Ben had referred to the first years as my “team” I had the sudden realization that I’d never had a team before. Sadir was right—I was moving up in the world.

I had worked with each of my team members before, so I had a good idea what to expect. Gavin was the oldest of the three, having taken off two years between college and law school to figure out what he wanted to do. This made him hungry to catch up for lost time, so he worked around the clock to prove that he should be considered better than his peers. He always jumped at the opportunity to have face time with a partner and was often the last one to leave the office. Rumor had it his work ethic was fueled by his pesky cocaine habit which quickly became obvious to anyone who worked with him.

Sheldon was the polar opposite. He was a devout Mormon, whose work was always meticulous. His attention to detail would have been enviable if there was no timeline, but on this deal it was going to be irritating. Last time I worked with him it took him
five
hours to review one supply agreement. Then he came to my office dis
tressed that the contract contained a lot of grammatical errors. I had to explain to him that the quality of drafting was not an issue for us. Our responsibility was solely to summarize it, but he looked at me like a Labrador trying to understand his master, cocking his head from one side to the other in confusion. In Sheldon’s world his job included editing previously executed contracts. So, despite my explanation and plea to work faster, his summary included a long list of supposed grammatical errors in the contract, all of which were insignificant.

Patrick, on the other hand, was a barrel-chested, quick-witted Irish Catholic from Boston who always said he didn’t have time for bullshit. And to Patrick,
everything
was bullshit. You need him to revise his work? Bullshit! The cafeteria is out of fried chicken? Bullshit! It’s raining? Bullshit! I couldn’t give him the responsibility of coordinating the paralegals or giving instructions to the specialists because I knew he’d come across as brash and aggressive, thereby creating more problems than it was worth. But his work quality was better than Gavin’s and quicker than Sheldon’s, so that made him my favorite.

Grasping my hands in front of me, sitting ramrod straight, I mustered my best power-commanding tone. “Highlander Hotels has thousands of corporate documents, contracts, and policies relating to their hotels around the world and each one has to be reviewed. They’re posting the documents in an online data room and for confidentiality reasons they’re not permitting us to print them. So, we’ll work from this checklist.” I slid three copies of the 177-page stapled checklist across the table.

“Holy crap,” Patrick muttered, flipping through the pages.

“I know it’s a lot of work, but I’m really going to need your one hundred percent on it,” I said in a tone I hoped was motivating rather than pleading. “So, let’s get started.” Taking a deep breath, I flipped open the first page of the checklist.

Two weeks into our efforts, Ben called the first status meeting. Reviewing my notes one final time before I headed to Ben’s office, a
tiny smile played at my lips. I’d been up for twenty-six hours straight. My eyes were burning and my deodorant had long since ceased to be effective. I hadn’t consumed anything but coffee and Diet Coke, but that wasn’t why I felt light headed. I was dizzy with excitement. After reviewing one tediously boring contract after another, I’d come across my own version of a smoking gun.

I squinted at the clock on my computer.
9:55
A.M
.
Five minutes to freshen up. I swiped a handiwipe under my arms, ran a brush through my hair, and popped a breath mint. After a futile attempt to dab out a grease stain on my skirt, I picked up my notes and headed down the corridor to Ben’s office, mentally giving myself one final pep talk.

Ben looked well rested and freshly showered as he waved me in from behind his polished desk. I felt a pang of embarrassment, but hoped my unkempt appearance communicated my level of commitment. Maybe this was what he meant by going “above and beyond.”

I handed Ben the due diligence checklist so he could get an idea of the dent we’d put in the work load. He ran his eyes over it, expressionless, then put it down and launched into a list of outstanding items he wanted me to attend to. I scratched feverishly on my notepad. He was adding a lot of work to what already felt like a bottomless pit.

“So.” He blew out a long breath, leaning back in his chair. “Any red flags in the due diligence I should know about?”

I cleared my throat. “Yes, actually I found something that may be of interest to you.”

His lips pressed into a thin, impatient line.

“Ben?” A sharp voice trilled through the office.

I looked up to see Sarah standing in the doorway. She was wearing another one of her flawlessly pressed, fitted black suits, and a pair of blood-red stilettos.

“You wanted to see me?” she said, in crisp, precise diction.

“Yes.” Ben perked up as he waved her inside. “Take a seat. We’re just about done here.” He gestured with his chin towards me.

“Great.” Sarah flashed a Cheshire smile as she sauntered over to the chair beside me. Her eyes swept over me and I was suddenly very aware of my greasy hair sticking to the back of my neck.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, hoping Ben had the good sense not to mention the StarCorp secondment. I knew from Sadir that Sarah had been passed over for the secondment two years ago, the position going to a well-connected associate who had the good fortune of being related to the CEO of a big client. If Sarah caught wind that I was in the running for the secondment this year that would be akin to painting a giant target on my back and handing her a gun.

“What was your question, Mackenzie?” Ben asked distractedly as he watched Sarah lean back in her chair and cross her toned legs. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was going to pull a Sharon Stone right before my eyes. She did have a way of carrying herself in the office that seemed to be the perfect balance of offering herself up a silver platter while still maintaining professionalism. She laughed a little louder at men’s jokes, lingered with eye contact and strategic lip licking but, annoyingly, she still spoke with authority and proficiency.

I looked down at my notepad, doing my best to ignore the flush that was creeping up my neck. “Well, Highlander gets all of its bedding from Southern Hospitality, the company that owns the Blissful Bed Collection, pursuant to a five year supply contract they have in place. The contract is set to expire at the end of March and so far I haven’t come across any plans to renew. So —”

Ben waved his hand dismissively, interrupting me. “That’s not noteworthy. With a company of their size supply contracts can fall through the cracks. Just make a note of it in the diligence memo.” He tossed me back the diligence checklist.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the side of Sarah’s thin lips curl up into a smirk. I wanted to reach over and wipe the smug look off her face.

“This supply contract is particularly important, though.” I continued, a slight shake in my voice. “Highlander just spent two hundred million dollars on an advertising campaign centered around the fact that every one of their hotels is furnished by Blissful Beds. If they let the supply contract expire, they’ll have to dump the whole campaign
which would be a big hit. Our client would be stuck with a bill for a new ad campaign.”

A small smile crept across Ben’s face. His expression reminded me of a parent watching a kindergarten graduation.

I took a deep breath. “I think we should make the renegotiation of the Southern Hospitality supply contract a condition to closing.”

Ben was nodding approvingly now, as though I had passed some test. “You’re absolutely right, Mackenzie. Great catch.” He scratched a note onto his legal pad. “Go ahead and add that to the draft of the purchase agreement.”

“Will do.” I tossed a satisfied smile in Sarah’s direction on my way out.
How you like me now?

As soon as I got back to my office, I closed the door and did a happy Snoopy dance. Jason was right. I totally got this.