Big Law (8 page)

Before I shut my eyes for the night I did one final email check. Seeing no work emails, I scrolled through my outgoing texts out of curiosity, but never did find the text that Jason had sent to Alex.

I
TOOK A SWIG
of my vodka soda and picked up my BlackBerry to check the time.
10:28
. Kim was now twenty-eight minutes late.
Typical
, I thought, leaning back on the black leather chair and scanning the bar. I hadn’t even wanted to go out tonight, but Kim insisted. And just as I always have, I cracked under the pressure of her persuasion. This usually resulted in a round robin of “just one more bar” as we followed her latest band-member boyfriend, but tonight it meant sitting at a loud bar in Midtown when I’d rather be home sleeping.

“Do you want another, hon?” the waitress asked, pointing at my glass of melted ice.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Kim breezed up beside me. “You know how I am with the whole being on time thing.” Like the cable guy, when Kim gives you a time to meet, it should be considered an estimate. Knowing my friend too well, I’d thought about staying at the office until ten to finish up some work, but in Biglaw if you squander an opportunity to leave the office, the chance might not come along again.

“If we’d said 10:30 then you’d be early,” I quipped, standing up to give her a quick hug.

“We’ll have two of those,” Kim instructed the waitress, nodding at my empty glass and slipping off her coat.

“So.” She flopped down into the chair across from me. “I’ve been calling and calling you.”

“Sorry, work has been crazy.”

“Well, I’ve been dying to fill you in on the meet-and-greet with Quinn’s family.”

“Right!” I felt a pang of guilt realizing I didn’t even know the monumental parent meeting had already occurred. “How did it go?”

The waitress materialized, setting our drinks down in front of us. Kim took a thirsty gulp before answering. “Well, you’ll be happy to know that he doesn’t have a wife, children, or secretly live with his mother.”

“All good things. Check. Check. Check.”

She stirred her drink, a tiny grin playing at her lips. “He was super sweet, Mac. He kept worrying he was overwhelming me. Which, I have to admit, meeting the entire family at once was a bit intimidating. I felt like the Bachelor on hometown date.”

I laughed.

“But it was actually fun. Surprisingly. His family was really excited to meet me. They said Quinn never brings girls home.”

“Aw. He was just waiting for the one.”

“You’re such a helpless romantic.” She flicked her straw at me. “Oh, and you know that school fundraiser I’ve been organizing?”

I nodded.

“Quinn convinced his brother to do the music for it. And you’re not going to believe this, but Quinn actually signed up to be one of the volunteer cooks.”

“A volunteer cook? Could he be any more in love with you?”

“It’s for a good cause!” She leaned over and slapped my knee.

“Yeah, you.” I smiled. “Well, I think we can put it bed—he’s a keeper.”

“Speaking of bed, how are things with your man, anyway? I haven’t heard anything about him in a while.”

“Sneaky little segue,” I said wryly.

She did a mock bow of her head, clearly pleased with herself.

I considered for a moment whether I wanted to tell Kim about the mystery of the supposedly dead BlackBerry battery the other night. Kim and I had always shared the nitty-gritty about our love lives with each other, down to every last cringe-inducing detail, but I was hesitant. I knew what Kim thought of Jason. “Isn’t he a little …
generic?” she’d asked after I brought Jason out for drinks one night to meet her. “Like he’s been computer generated or something?” Then she pried for what exactly it was that I saw in him. I believe her exact words were, “Is he the male version of the sexy librarian—like, he sheds his boring, stuffy exterior and becomes a mad man in the bedroom?” (In the interest of full disclosure, the answer to that was no.) Jason wasn’t a big fan of hers either, calling her boisterous, unfiltered personality “a social liability.” So, my best friend and my boyfriend hadn’t exactly hit it off initially, but once Jason and I started getting serious Kim made an effort keep any negative comments to herself. Unfortunately, Kim had a horrible poker face. Whenever Jason was around I could practically see the thought bubble over her head: “Please don’t let my best friend marry this dud.” If I revealed any unease now, I knew she’d go in for the kill.

“Things are really good.” I took a sip of my drink, avoiding eye contact.

“Really?” Kim regarded me skeptically.

“Yeah.” I paused, stirring my drink. “Actually, we’re moving in together,” I said casually, bracing myself for her disapproval. I wasn’t going to tell her tonight, knowing she would try to talk me out of it, but now was as good a time as any to face the firing squad.

She started to cough, seemingly choking on her drink. Putting her glass down, she pounded her chest with her fist, her eyes watering. “Sorry, wrong pipe,” she croaked before clearing her throat. “When?”

“April.”

She gave a puzzled look. “Why April? Why not now?”

“That’s when my lease runs out.”

Kim took a careful sip and set down her drink. “Waiting for your lease to run out … interesting.”

“Look, I know you aren’t his biggest fan, but —”

“It’s not that,” she interrupted. “I admit, I think there’s someone else out there who’s a better fit for you, but that isn’t the point. The point is, I don’t think
you
want to move in with him.”

I gave an exaggerated eye roll. “Okay, that might work with your preschoolers. ‘Little Johnny, I don’t think you
want
to hit little Susie, do you?’” I mimicked, patting her hand with mine. “But it’s not going
to work on me. I really
do
want to move in with him. We’re just thinking about it practically, that’s all.”

Kim’s blue eyes regarded me calmly. “Don’t you want a guy who makes you want to bust out of your super achiever mode and do something totally spontaneous?”

I snorted. “You know I don’t.”

She sat back in her seat, readying herself to dispense her armchair analysis. “Look, I’ve known you for nine years, Mac. I know you’re a rule follower and blah blah blah, but if you really wanted to move in with Jason, you wouldn’t think twice. You’d jump.”

I felt a flutter of annoyance. “Please, this is
me
we’re talking about. You remember how I wouldn’t even break my cell phone contract even though I really wanted to get the new iPhone and only AT&T had it? I stayed with my crappy Verizon phone for the full two years just so I wouldn’t have to terminate the contract early. The fact that I’m waiting out my lease before moving in with him doesn’t prove anything.”

She looked amused. “You do realize you just compared your relationship to a mobile device, don’t you?”

“Hey, the new iPhone isn’t just a mobile device—it’s a
revolutionary
product.”

Kim threw her head back and laughed.

That was when I saw her. She was sitting in the back corner of the bar, the type of secluded spot that celebrities pick to canoodle and not be spotted by the paparazzi. “Oh my God,” I hissed, slumping down into my chair.

Kim gave a puzzled look.

“It’s HER. Sarah.”

Never one for subtlety, Kim whipped around and scanned the room. “Where?”

“Shhhh! Turn back around. I can’t believe she’s here. I thought she never left the office.”

“Well, where did you think she slept?” Kim’s mouth twitched with humor.

“I don’t know. A coffin in her office when she’s not feasting on the undead? Cover me — I don’t want her to see me.” I positioned myself
perfectly with Kim as my shield and peered with morbid curiosity. “It looks like she’s waiting for someone. Oh my God, I’m dying to see the guy who would date that cold fish.”

“Poor guy.” Kim tsked.

“And she has a …” I squinted to get a better look. “You’re not going to believe this. There’s a file on the table. Sarah brought a work file on a date. That’s how weird she is!”

Sarah looked up from the BlackBerry she’d been furiously pecking on and locked eyes with me.

“Shit,” I whispered anxiously, averting my eyes. “I’ve been spotted.”

“Really? But you were being so subtle,” Kim said sarcastically.

“Ha, ha.” I peered at Kim over my empty glass, which was now substituting as my cover.

I turned my attention back to Sarah just as she was ducking out a side door. I didn’t see what she did with the file, making me wonder if I’d really even seen it or if I’d just been incapable of picturing Sarah without work in her hand. “She left. She just up and left as soon as she saw me.” I eyed the door curiously. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Well, some would say that channeling Nancy Drew is kinda crazy.” Kim lifted her eyebrows at me.

I snorted. “Okay, point taken. That woman just brings out the crazy in me.”

“Forget about her.” Kim waved her hand airily. “She’s a nonentity.”

“You’re right.” I sighed. “Look at you getting all wise in your old age.”

“You bring the brains, I’ll bring the wisdom.” She raised her glass, clinking mine.

“Okay, tell me more about Quinn’s family.” I leaned back in my chair and willed myself to listen, but I couldn’t shake the sight of Sarah’s facial expression when we locked eyes. It looked like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

W
ALKING INTO MY OFFICE AT
6
A.M
. Monday morning, Venti dark roast in hand, I was wishing I could just inject the caffeine right into my veins. It would be so much more efficient that way. Monday mornings were the absolute worst part of my week. Saul wanted everyone working on the deal—paralegals, tax and intellectual property specialists, Sarah, and me—to meet every Monday morning at 7
A.M
. to discuss the status of the deal. I’d asked Sadir why Saul would schedule a non-essential meeting for 7
A.M
. when it could just as easily be held at 3
P.M
. “For the same reason a dog licks his own balls—because he can,” Sadir had responded, shrugging like the answer was obvious. The meetings were always merciless and vicious. Personally, I think he called the meetings because he wanted to start the week off by publicly castrating all the men in the room and reducing the women to tears. So, every Monday morning I arrived at work before most people woke up to prepare for a thirty minute hazing courtesy of Saul. My only goal was to minimize the bloodbath.

I put my cup of Starbucks’ finest down on my desk, marveling how quiet it was. Sadir wasn’t in yet, meaning no aggressive pecking on keys, no frustrated grumbles. I could get used to this. I flopped down on my swivel chair and attempted to mentally prepare for the day ahead. But my brief moment of serenity came to an abrupt end when I saw the headline on WSJ.com.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve all fucking seen it.” Saul slammed a folded newspaper against the large mahogany table. “Someone has fucking Paul Revered this thing all over Wall Street and now Falcon stock is up eighteen percent. EIGHTEEN FUCKING PERCENT,” he shrieked. “Can anybody tell me what that means? I’ll tell you what the fuck it means. It means we have to sign this deal before those little fuckwits get it in their minds that they can seek out a bigger price. Before they think they can play hardball. Or worse. Worse.” The room fell silent for what felt like an hour but was probably only about thirty seconds before Saul continued. “The boost makes them think they don’t need to sell to our client and instead can keep this company afloat themselves. Because if that happens then we’ll all be left sitting here with our dicks in our hands.”

I squeezed my eyes shut in a desperate attempt to remove that visual.

“Now that the news is out, we need to move even more aggressively on this. Time is of the essence. Everything is due NOW.” Saul slammed his small paper cup on the conference room table, splashing hot coffee on his file folder and the Intellectual Property associate who’d made the tragic mistake of taking the seat beside him.
“Mackenzie, did you tell the specialists to get you their summaries TODAY?” Everyone in the conference room turned their attention to me.

“Specialists” is a term used by corporate lawyers to refer to any other type of lawyer that specializes in a particular area of law—Tax, Intellectual Property, Employment, Real Estate—if you weren’t in the group structuring the deal (the corporate group) you were simply referred to as a “specialist.” One of my roles on the deal, other than Saul’s personal punching bag, was to compile summaries of the contracts the specialists reviewed during their due diligence.

“I thought you wanted their summaries by Wednesday,” I managed, trying to stay calm. That’s what Saul said in last Monday’s meeting and everyone in the room knew it. No one, of course, would openly agree with me.

“I … told … you …” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I … told … you …” A flush crept up Saul’s neck as he pounded his knuckles against his skull in frustration. He started to stomp his feet furiously on the ground, like a spoiled child throwing a fit, before shrieking, “MONDAY! MONDAY! MONDAY! I TOLD YOU TO EMAIL THE SPECIALISTS AND TELL THEM MONDAY!” His jaw was twitching with petulance. “NOT WEDNESDAY! Now we’re two days off schedule thanks to your fucking INCOMPETENCE! You are fucking INCOMPETENT! Do you even KNOW that? Or are you too fucking STUPID?”

I tried to hold myself perfectly still, not wanting to let everyone see me tremble. The whole room prickled with awkwardness. It wasn’t until that moment that I truly appreciated the wisdom of Alex’s advice:
sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me
. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something to defend myself, but Saul held up his hand for silence.

“Mackenzie, tell me that YOUR summaries are at least done. Tell me that you did SOMETHING right.” My face burned with humiliation. Everyone averted their eyes in the interest of preserving my dignity. We received two new boxes of contracts to review late last night. He
knew
there was no way my summaries were done. He just wasn’t ready for my public reprimanding to be over. Like a cat play
ing with a half-dead mouse, he was relishing my suffering. He wasn’t going to be satisfied until I was a red-faced, stammering, teary-eyed mess, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

I bit the inside of my cheek and blinked back the tears trembling on the brink of my lashes. “I can have the summaries for you tomorrow,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster.

“Tomorrow, tomorrow,” he mimicked in high-pitched tone, with his face contorted as if he smelled something bad. His wispy comb-over stood straight up and his glasses sat noticeably crooked on his face, making him look deranged. “We’re on a fucking TIMELINE here, people. Why can’t any of you morons grasp that?” He shut his eyes tightly, shook his head, and turned his attention to Sarah, his next victim.

Sarah held up better than I did under Saul’s barrage. He was clearly worn out from his full blown fit and it was as if someone had finally given him the lollipop he’d been wailing for. She got one or two “what the fucks” and there might have been a “fuckwit” thrown in, but the shrieking, red-faced toddler had been placated.

When Saul was finally done picking us off one by one like target practice, I grabbed my legal pad with trembling hands and, with as much poise as I could gather, filed out of the conference room, looking down at the floor in an effort to avoid any eye contact. I headed for the one true place of refuge in the firm—the bathroom.

After peeking under the stalls to make sure I was the only one there, I pushed open a stall door and sat down on the toilet. Being verbally disemboweled on a daily basis was starting to break me. Clearly my parents had done me a great disservice, because my conflict-free upbringing had not—in any conceivable way—prepared me for working in Biglaw. Maybe if there had been more yelling in my home I would have been able to withstand Saul’s assault. I leaned forward and put my face in my hands. It was burning hot.
I can’t handle this anymore
, I thought, my eyes filling with tears. Because I was alone in the bathroom, I didn’t bother to fight them.