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ChapterOne
One secret of success in life is for a man to be ready for his opportunity when it comes.—Benjamin Disraeli
Chicago, February 2014
Micki
Today’s the day.Best suit. Flawless hair and makeup. Every inch the polished senior associate. No four-inch heels. Frederick Lanscombe, managing partner, is a little sensitive about his height. At five seven, stilettos bring me close to six feet. I tower over him. Not a good look since this meeting is the crucial first step in the campaign to be the next partner at Miller, Lanscombe, Baker, Francis, Masters, and Hargrove.
The door to the small conference room is wide open, an open box from Do-Rite gracing the polished mahogany in the middle of the room. Three partners sitting in judgment. Fred at the head of the table, eats a maple-bacon donut. My mentor, Rebecca Masters, smiles and gives me a small thumbs-up. Tyler Miller, associate managing partner, nods to acknowledge I’m here.
I’m more than here. After a hundred years, this firm is still a boys’ club, but I’m determined to crack into the top echelon and become the second woman to make partner.
Hayden Forbes-Cartwright barrels into me. I fly through the door and end up on hands and knees. When I look up, Fred’s mouth and donut haven’t met. Rebecca’s hand is over her eyes.
“What an entrance, Micki.” Tyler’s mocking laugh pricks my balloon of confidence.
A snigger erupts from Hayden as his big hand reaches down to pull me up. “So sorry, Micki. Couldn’t put the brakes on in time.”
Upright, my ankles wobbly as I balance on my low-heeled shoes, my glare has the heat of the Milky Way. Not that Hayden pays any attention. His bogus concern is yet one more layer of deceit.
Points to him. I’m the klutz and he’s the chivalric hero. “Have a seat, Micki, Hayden.” Fred gives us each a once-over. Dressing well is one of the unspoken rules. Hayden’s navy-blue pinstripe is comparable to my silver-gray jacket and matching pencil skirt—points even on wardrobe. My phone in my lap, I pull up my spreadsheet. I’ve kept score since the first time we met. The advantage has seesawed back and forth, but we’re competing for the pinnacle in the stakes race, so I’ll have to up my game.
Hayden and I were adversaries from the get-go. We started here, on the same day eight years ago. Me half an hour early. Hayden fifteen minutes late, strolling in with his uncle. All my muscles clenched when he looked me over with his trademark devil-may-care smile.
“I know you both received the memo. With Sonny Philips’ retirement, the firm will promote one associate to partner this year. As the two seniors, you will be the leading candidates.”
Hayden stops fiddling with his Chicago Yacht Club tie. “Does that mean you’ll consider other associates?”
“Technically, yes, but in reality, you are the only ones qualified right now. The partners will evaluate you on several criteria besides the competencies you’ve shown in your time here.”
He pauses.
Hayden rushes into the momentary silence. “Does every partner vote?”
“You know they do,” Tyler chides his nephew impatiently.
“Are some votes weighted more heavily than others? Like seniority?”
“No. Please go on, Fred.” Rebecca’s eye roll should send a message.
When I glance toward Hayden, he shows no embarrassment, not even a slight flush. Most lawyers learn early to put on a neutral face. I permit myself a tiny smile. Minus five to Hayden.
Fred looks at the sheet in front of him, then from Tyler to Rebecca. He positions reading glasses firmly at the end of his long, narrow nose. “The criteria includes enthusiasm, treatment of others, the opinion of your mentor.”
He places a finger on page, then clears his throat, glances around. “Also, maintaining personal control, commitment, successful building and protection of your reputation and that of the firm.” Another pause.
Tyler breaks in. “We’re looking for consistent hard work, always available, constant improvement, and most important— being perceived as trustworthy.” He gives an oily smile, staring at me as if he doesn’t trust me at all.
Hayden’s eyes dart like tiny silverfish, his tell when he’s calculating his chances for winning. I put in the long hours and never turn down a request. Hayden skates by, taking credit for the work of junior associates. He boasts about staying late when he disappears in the middle of the day.
When your uncle’s name is on the door, you have an extra pass. Tyler Miller will definitely push for Hayden to be the next partner.
Fred is still talking, and I wrench my attention back to his droning monotone. “Besides the formal evaluation, the other piece is assisting Rebecca with a high-profile insider trading case. It’s more than usually sensitive because our client is a candidate for a Senate seat. He says it’s a setup. Not necessarily a strong or provable defense. You’ll be combing emails, social media, accounts, and documents to find evidence.”
I suppress a shiver. The sensation of a bucket of night crawlers being dumped down my spine short circuits my thoughts. Then I remember what Mom used to say when I lost confidence. “Be your own cheerleader.”Rah, rah.
But I’m beaten to the punch. “What a great opportunity for us to show what we’re made of.” Hayden’s wide smile and crackling delivery are as phony as a carny barker’s come-on.
