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“Fake it til you make it. Play the part until the curtains close.”
No matter how often I repeated that advice to myself, I knew I was in over my head.
I could feel it with every second that ticked by, every file that magically found its way atop my desk.
I’d organized all of Mr. Carter’s case files by type. Then, by court date, in alphabetical order,
I only left the firm to go home and take a shower, and still, even though it was clear that Mr. Carter’s game was impossible to win, I was determined to play until the buzzer.
Over the past week and a half, I’d noticed that he was an enigma, slipping in and out of the firm without saying a word, only speaking when an email wouldn’t do. And yet, I seemed to be the only one who found this disrespectful and unfair.
None of the other senior lawyers kept their doors shut for most of the day, and all were willing to stop and answer questions.
Exhausted, I stood up and decided to take a tour.
Most of the offices were long abandoned, and only a few interns were typing away at their cubicles. Every floor had a different layout and elegant color scheme, and the mock courtroom on the fifteenth floor was fitted with so much custom woodwork that it took my breath away.
On the twentieth floor, the words “Damien Carter” were engraved in gold on the welcome wall. Stepping off, I wandered past the receptionist's desk in awe.
Mr. Carter was standing near the windows, sipping coffee and looking at the streets below.
“May I help you with something, Miss Tanner?” he asked without turning around.
“No, I’m just taking a little tour since the office is quiet.”
“Is your work finished?” He faced me.
“Not yet.”
“Well, go finish that first.”
“I’ll get back to it after my break.” I walked away and strolled through the case library.
I took my time admiring a smaller mock courtroom, and when I returned, Mr. Carter was standing near the elevators.
Ignoring him, I stepped inside and he followed.
“The file tombs are on level five,” he said as I hit the button for the top floor. “Do you need help finding your way back?”
“I literally just told you I’m taking a break.”
“You haven’t done enough work to earn a break.”
“Earn?” I crossed my arms. “Did you hire me to be a lawyer or an intern?”
“If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have hired you at all.” He hit the emergency stop button. “I have clients that will be here Monday, and the files in that room are very important to me.”
“They can’t be.” I glared at him. “You’d be reading some of them in your office instead of sipping coffee and harassing me.”
“Miss Tanner, I’m apartnerat this firm.”
“I don’t see your name on any of the doors.” I countered. “It’s not even printed on the cheap business cards.”
“Those cards arenotcheap.”
“Regardless—” I reached behind him and hit the button. “I’m sure you have some more coffee sipping to do. Or hell, maybe you have some more guilty clients to collect.”
“What did you just say?”
