Page 2 of Partners In Evil
“Unfortunately,” she says. “But I can whip you up something almost as rich in iron and antioxidants?”
Well, how can I say no to that?
She makes me a green smoothie, no hearts, and I take a cautious sip. Delicious. At least I’ll get a few vegetables in me, since cooking’s never been my strong point. I’ve been eating a bit like a toddler, to be honest, ever since I started law school. Memorizing legal briefs doesn’t exactly lend the time to learn how to become a gourmet chef.
“I’ve been told that perks like snacks and music rooms mean that you’re expected to spend a lot of time in the office.”
“Oh, Damien and Sophia practically live here,” he says. “Luc does, too, but he’s rarely working. Think of him more like a mascot.”
I’m a little scared to laugh – his brother might be okay for him to tease, but he’s still technically a partner in the firm and thus my boss. Fortunately he sweeps me along with him through the office.
The client waiting room is as luxe as the rest of the office implies it would be, with thick carpets, a savvy-looking pair of human secretaries, and an overturned chess table.
“Mr. Tiza was here this morning,” one of the secretaries with a severe bun says. “I thought I asked you to speak with him – he’s scaring off the other clients when he gets in his moods.”
“My sincerest apologies, Janice.” Finn rights the heavy table with one hand and sets the hand carved pieces where they belong. “Mr. Tiza hates to lose.”
He introduces me to the secretaries – Janice and Gretchen – and then we’re off again. There’s no music room, but there’s a meditation room that looks like the only place worse for wear. In fact, it looks as though it’s slowly being converted into a game room. There’s a dart board hung up haphazardly in the corner and a foosball table precariously close to the windows.
“Luc’s not one for mediating,” he explains. “But that doesn’t stop him from trying.”
“Is it typical to meditate via a foosball table?”
“It is for Luc.” He laughs. “Now, here are our junior associates.”
The number of lawyers working here are dizzying – and most are busy, typing away and chattering on the phone as we walk past. One woman, a human named Betty, scowls at Finn as he opens the door.
“You’re letting a draft in!”
She’s wrapped up in a cashmere shawl and a space heater hums beside her desk. Finn takes the scowl in stride, giving her a jaunty wave as he shuts the door behind us.
“Betty says I’m from Hell, but she runs that damned space heater in the summer. I’m eighty percent sure she does it just so she can keep a private office.” He nods towards the end of the long hall. “Now, let me show you who really runs the place.”
Next to the three main offices, which are close together down the hall, there’s a bullpen of activity and mahogany desks. The decor is as sinfully dark as the rest of the building, but one desk is piled with pink, frilly decorations and another is decked out in crude crayon drawings.
“The paralegals,” he says. “The power behind the thrones. Emma, meet Lucy, Alex, and Petra. Lucy’ll help show you the ropes here.”
Lucy, the human with the pink desk, smiles at me. “Did you give this one any prep or are you just throwing her to the wolves here?”
I have to admit I’m a little concerned, too. I’d thought that, as a fully-trained lawyer, applying to be a paralegal would be an easy way to get my foot in the door at a large firm – especially since I keep bombing interviews. But now, seeing the amount of work on everyone’s desks, I’m wondering if maybe I haven’t bitten off a bit more than I can chew.
“I’m not throwing anyone,” he protests. Then his voice lowers just for me. “But I would like to take you out for drinks if you’d like.”
2
FINN
Ilean down against my desk until my nose presses against the cold screen of my laptop. There’s a schedule beneath my elbow of all the things I was supposed to get done today, but I’m not masochistic enough to check how much of it I didn't manage.
Maybe Lucy can summarize this case for me to look over after I grab a cup of coffee. “Lucy?” No answer. Right. I hazard a look out my window – the lights of the city are glowing.
Pretty much everyone, even my workaholic brother and sister-in-law, have left for the night. Normally I’m the one nagging my brother, Damien, to get home before the sun sets. But now the sun sets and I’ve only seen him twice today – I didn’t even have time for our scheduled lunch.
Fuck. I can’t keep doing this. I have to get it together. It’s not like there’s been an influx of new clients. I can’t keep fumbling like this.
But there’s no amount of getting-it-together that’s going to happen tonight. I can’t read one more brief on my laptop without all the words running together into gibberish.
Tomorrow, I vow. I’ll start fresh tomorrow. Clean slate. New day, new me. Maybe I’ll even grab one of those green smoothies Damien is always chugging. I thought they looked disgusting until I saw the new paralegal, Emma, sucking one down. The combination of her innocent eyes, stylish glasses, and the straw between her plump, pink lips was –