Home > Rascal (Rascals #1)(7)

Rascal (Rascals #1)(7)
Author: Katie McCoy

Unless he just wasn’t interested.

Even though I had told myself over and over again that I didn’t have time to date, that I didn’t have time for someone like Emerson, the idea that he didn’t make a move because he wasn’t interested bummed me out. Which was ridiculous. If anything, I should be grateful that I didn’t have to deal with unwanted advances.

Except, I kind of wanted him to advance on me.

Or maybe I didn’t know what I wanted.

Instead of focusing on that, I turned my attention to the one thing I knew I wanted. A permanent position at Patricks, Richmond & Garrison, the most prestigious law firm in Chicago.

With coffee in hand, I headed towards my first meeting of the day. I’d only be taking notes, but it was important to get facetime with the other associates and partners whenever I could.

I took a seat next to Lucinda and Bryce—my competition for the associate position. The three of us had just sat for the bar a month ago and were waiting for our results. I had studied my ass off and felt good about it, but nothing was certain until the results were posted. Failing that meant automatic disqualification for the associate position.

“You look tired,” Lucinda told me as I pulled out my notebook.

She said it with a smile—she did everything with a smile—but I knew enough about Lucinda to watch my back. She might look like a sweetheart, with her big blue eyes and perfectly coiffed brown bob, but she was just as ambitious as the rest of us. If given the chance, she’d stab me in the back in a second.

The other potential associate, Bryce, wouldn’t. Nope, since he was a guy, he would happily stab me in the front—and get away with it.

Both of them came from prestigious law families—getting in the door because of family connections or beloved professors from the most expensive law schools in the country. I didn’t have the kind of pedigree that they did, I just had my work ethic and refusal to quit.

But I’d bet on those any day.

“I feel great,” I told Lucinda, smiling just as broadly as she did.

Bryce didn’t say anything, just continued to sit there looking mildly constipated as always. It was a look that most employees of Patricks, Richmond & Garrison wore. Our jobs were hard and the firm was a little on the stuffy side, but it was where I needed to be to launch my career in the law. A few years in a prestigious firm like this, and I would have my pick of other options—or maybe go right to the top here. Partner.

“Here they come,” Lucinda muttered as the clients entered.

I had read up on this case over the weekend. The firm was representing the wife of a successful tech company CEO. They were embroiled in a messy divorce in which the wife, Laney, was asking for half of their assets—including the company—while the husband, Trevor, was arguing that he was the one responsible for his company’s success, therefore his soon-to-be ex shouldn’t get a dime.

Looking up from my notebook, I observed the wife as she took a seat on one end of the table. Laney was in her mid-forties, looking polished and professional. But I was also close enough to see that her mascara was smudged and her eyes were red. Clearly, she had been crying.

Even though I knew getting emotionally invested in our cases was always a bad idea, I couldn’t help feeling bad for this woman. She looked devastated, and slightly shell-shocked.

“He left her for his secretary,” Lucinda whispered in my ear.

She always knew all the gossip around clients, but we all went silent as the partners began to speak.

“Our client is asking for a fair share of the assets,” Arthur—the Patricks in Patricks, Richmond & Garrison—started. “A fifty-fifty split after twenty years of marriage is not only reasonable but expected.”

The opposing lawyers shook their heads, almost in unison.

“Illinois isn’t a community property state,” one of them smirked. “Our client built his company from the ground up. By himself. Your client’s contributions were to spend our client’s money. If anything, she should be repaying him.”

A small gasp escaped Laney’s lips. She looked down at the table at her soon-to-be ex-husband, who was wearing a smug smile. I wanted to slap it off his face.

“I supported you,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I sacrificed my own dreams to make yours a reality.”

All he did was shrug. Now, I wanted to punch him.

The lawyers duked it out for hours. By the end of it, we were no closer to a solution. Our client stood firm on the fifty-fifty split, while the husband’s team kept presenting “evidence” that not only did our client deserve nothing, but they were willing to sue her for repayment.

Laney was white-faced when we broke, and she immediately fled the room.

“She’s got some nerve,” Bryce said as we all filed out.

I gave him a look.

“What? This dude built a multi-million-dollar company. Why should he have to give away his hard-earned money to a woman who he’s not even sleeping with?”

I was shocked into silence. I turned towards Lucinda, expecting that she would at least offer some support to our client, but she seemed as unsympathetic as Bryce did.

“This is why everyone should sign a pre-nup,” she said with a flip of her hair. “It’s her own fault if she didn’t.”

I walked away from them without responding. I knew that part of our jobs as lawyers was to be sensible—to not let emotion get in the way of decisions—but sometimes I felt people like Bryce and Lucinda took that emotionless thing way too far. These were people’s lives we were dealing with.

Heading into the bathroom, I heard the sound of sniffles.

Laney was standing at the sink, crying. She jumped when I entered, dabbing at her eyes and trying to hide her face.

“Here.” I reached into my purse and pulled out some eye drops. “Must be all the pollen in the air,” I said kindly.

She managed a watery smile.

“Something like that,” she said, taking the eye drops. “Twenty years,” she whispered, staring into the mirror. “Twenty years of marriage and he thinks I’m worthless.”

I caught her gaze in the reflection. “Then he obviously doesn’t know you at all.”

She smiled—a real smile.

“We know what you’re worth,” I told her. “And we’re going to get every penny.”

Just then, Lucinda walked in. She didn’t say anything, just headed straight for a stall, not even bothering to acknowledge the client.

“Take as much time as you need,” I told Laney.

“Thank you,” she said, fixing her hair and makeup.

When she was done, she handed me the eye drops.

“I think my allergies have cleared up,” she said, standing a little bit taller.

“I think so too.” I smiled.

She left, and I washed my hands and checked my own makeup. Lucinda came out of the stall and began reapplying lipstick.

“You’re not her therapist,” she told me. “That’s not your job.”

“I was just being nice,” I responded, annoyed.

“You can’t bill hours for being nice,” she countered. “And nice certainly won’t get you the associate position. That’s going to go to someone who understands what this job is really about. Winning.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I said nothing. Finally Lucinda got the hint and left. I knew that she was right—that I needed to keep my eye on the prize. But I was also pretty confident that people didn’t want to work with lawyers who were assholes. At least not to them.

I returned to my desk to type up the notes from the meeting. I felt bad for our client, but I also knew that there was no way in hell we were going to let her ex-husband get away with leaving her with nothing. She was going to get her fifty percent.

With the notes typed up, I headed to Arthur’s office to drop them off. He waved me in when he saw me at his secretary’s desk, gesturing for me to take a seat.

“You’ve been doing good work here,” he told me.

He wasn’t much for small talk—a trait I appreciated.

“Thank you,” I said.

Arthur was in his seventies—a real law icon—and it was an honor to work with him. He’d cut his teeth on civil rights suits, a trail-blazing African-American lawyer, before turning to the more lucrative side of the business. He looked every inch the part, too, with his black hair turning grey and his classic pinstriped suits. He looked like the kind of grandfather that would give you money for your birthday instead of candy. The kind of grandfather that would also tell you exactly how to invest it. He was a well of knowledge, and I tried to soak up everything I could when I was around him.

“The firm’s cocktail party is this weekend,” he reminded me. “Who are you bringing?”

“Um.” I paused. I had planned on going alone.

“You know that the partners like stability,” he continued. “Lucinda will be bringing her husband, and Bryce just recently got engaged. Everyone is eager to meet their spouses. A settled lawyer is a productive lawyer, someone keeping the home fires burning while you work your long hours.”

My stomach got an uncomfortable twist in it. Was Arthur saying what I thought he was saying?

“Just remember that we can be a bit traditional here,” he told me, but the warning was clear.

Bring a date, he was telling me. Or you might be out of the running for associate.

6

Alex

“He single-shamed you?” Kelsey asked, her mouth agape, as I told her what had happened at work.

“He was trying to be helpful,” I countered, because I got the sense that Arthur wasn’t telling me because he cared, but because he knew other people did.

“Isn’t that illegal?” she wanted to know. “And shouldn’t a law firm know better?”

I shrugged. “It’s not illegal if it’s not explicit. It’s just a company culture thing. Some places are modern, and don’t care what you do with your personal life, and some . . . Well, they get way too involved.”

   
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