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Brooks gets want he wants almost as easily as he breathes. It all comes naturally, effortlessly. The wins, the adoration, the accolades. He’s the practice darling, the superhero in an office full of overworked women desperate for male attention.
What makes this entire thing all the more maddening is that because of him, I have to work twice as hard to get noticed.
At the end of the day, Brooks Gentry is the reason I’m here from seven in the morning until ten at night. Whenever I think I might want to pack it in, all I need to do is picture his smug, gorgeous, annoying face.
Good thing I love my job.
Brooks glances at me for a moment before striding toward his office.
“Morning, Ms. Bayliss,” he says almost off-handedly as he passes by.
I nod. “Mr. Gentry.”
We separate as quickly as possible, like two rockets shooting in opposite directions. A second later, as I’m heading into the break room, I happen to glance over and spot Mr. Popular hanging over one of the pretty interns’ desks, his hand on his hip and a schmaltzy grin on his face.
He thinks he’s so smooth.
His ploys would never work on me.
I see through them like cheap cellophane.
Rolling my eyes, I go to myself a coffee. When I return, he’s still there, remarking on some photo on the blonde intern’s desk. She giggles, too loud, and then fusses with her hair.
Shaking my head, I return to my office and shut the door.
A minute later, my inbox dings with a meeting request from Lisa Hamilton, one of the four main partners at the firm. She, Ed Foster, and his younger brother Tom Foster, are the cornerstones of Foster and Foster, along with Bill Lindsey, who’s retiring this summer and the sole reason there’s an open partnership position and corner office on the horizon.
The meeting subject is: FUTURE PLANS.
My breath hitches. Ed handles the day-to-day business of the firm, Tom is the face of the firm, so he’s always traveling. But Lisa primarily works from home and when she’s here, she handles the HR and staffing concerns. Because of that, I’ve rarely met with her. The last time I did, it was when I’d been promoted from Junior Associate to Senior Associate a few months ago.
Is this about the promotion? Is it finally happening? Surely I’ve done nothing that would warrant disciplinary action of any kind. Certainly not a termination.
My fingers tremble as I click on it. It was set up by Shelly, Lisa’s executive assistant, as all important meetings are, and there’s an exclamation point on it, indicating it’s urgent.
Of course it is.
Lisa wants to meet this afternoon.
I can’t click the ACCEPT button fast enough.
After several minutes of analyzing this urgent, last minute request, I decide this has to be about the partnership. Bill Lindsey is leaving in less than two months. He made the announcement last year, which was when I kicked my campaign to be his replacement into overdrive. They’re going to have to select someone soon so the candidate can get up to speed before we cut the cake at his retirement party.
My excitement reaches a fever pitch—until I glance at the top of the invitation, which names other meeting invitees. I expect to see Ed. Tom if he’s between trips. Maybe Bill if he hasn’t checked out yet. They’d want to congratulate me.
But it’s not the partners’ names I see.
Other than Lisa and me, there’s only one other name.
Brooks Gentry.
Immediately, my jaw tightens.
I hear a crack and realize I’m gripping the mouse so hard I might have damaged it.
It’s 10:05 now. Quite simply, I’m going to die if I have to wait until five in the afternoon to find out what this meeting is about.
My mother always told me action was the antidote to anxiety, which means either I can sit here paralyzed for the next seven hours—or I can go straight to the horse’s mouth to find out what this is about. I’ll make some pretense about how I want to be prepared. Lisa and I aren’t on the closest of terms—we’re more like professional acquaintances—but she’s no-nonsense, like me.
Springing from my office chair, I head to the hall. As I’m about to march over to Lisa’s corner office, I freeze in my tracks when I see Brooks’s wayward curls above one of the cubicles.
He’s leaning against Lisa’s doorway, coffee in hand, shooting the shit like he has all the time in the world. On cue, he lets out a raucous laugh, as if she just said the funniest thing.
What… the… hell?
I’ve never laughed with, or joked with, or even dreamed about laughing and joking with one of the partners. Especially Lisa. She’s always been sour-faced and serious. I didn’t know she had a sense of humor.
Apparently, Brooks is already on her good side.
