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I stared into my mirror, prodding at the dark circles under my eyes. I was too tired to bother with concealer. Besides, dark circles and no makeup was something of a badge of honor at the firm. Something about the “I worked all night and I’m still here” look really did it for the partners.
Oh well. I brushed my hair and teeth and did my skincare before pulling on a black sweater, black long wool skirt and calf high boots. I grabbed my work bag and headed out the door. As I rode in the elevator I made a mental checklist of what was left in the purchase agreement. I had sent it for overnight proofreading and just had to check the indemnity and a few more sections before firing it off the Gerald. Then I could treat myself to a run in the gym at work and maybe take the rest of the day off. Not bad for a morning’s work.
* * *
Just a few hours later,I hit send on the email and fired the latest draft of the purchase agreement off into the world. Hopefully, we could get comments back tomorrow from the other side and have the closing right before Christmas.
But for now, I was free, gloriously free. My other work was winding down in anticipation of the holidays, and I didn’t have anything to do today unless opposing counsel or Gerald called me. I set my phone to forward to my cell and grabbed my gym bag.
The lights in the hallway flickered on as I walked past. Evidence that almost everyone had left for the holidays already. One office had cheery Christmas lights strung up over the whiteboard, and a few associates had Christmas cards on their desks. I appreciated the little bit of holiday spirit since I still hadn’t decorated my apartment or gotten a tree. Gerald’s office was dark, of course. He was probably heading to his club to enjoy a three-course meal with a client. I was incapable of marketing myself like that, so it was no wonder that Andrew was going to make partner over me. The thought of chumming it up with a bunch of finance bros made my skin crawl.
I passed Cynthia’s dark office, her Monstera plant hung with decorations and her whiteboard keeping a tally of how many times Gerald said “Fuck” on client calls. If it went above 50, Cynthia would take all his junior associates out for drinks.
I slowed as I neared Andrew’s office. His office was indeed pitch black, not a Christmas decoration in sight. I knew that all the papers were at right angles and that he didn’t have even a stray packet of gum on the desk. Like a true sociopath, Andrew was extremely tidy. Perhaps he was gone for the holidays already. With any luck, I wouldn’t have to see him until January second and I could settle into our new office tomorrow on my own.
After a quick change of clothes in the ladies’ room and a brief elevator ride, I was pushing open the fogged glass door of the office gym. Very few associates used the gym, and partners never did, presumably because they were either too busy or had their own gyms in their second homes and fancy apartments.
Not today though. Today, I heard the whir of a treadmill starting up. I stifled a groan. With any luck, it would be an associate from another group who wouldn’t want to make small talk.
I peered around the corner and froze. It was him. Andrew was jogging on the treadmill, headphones in, looking like he was well into his workout. Sweat made his shirt stick to his back and his hair curl damply at the base of his neck. Maybe I could sneak out slowly, since he hadn’t seen me yet. I took one step back, then another, as quietly as I could. His eyes met mine in the mirror and I froze.Caught. Shit. The corner of his mouth turned up in that smirk I couldn’t stand, as if he knew exactly what I had been planning. I steeled myself and walked as casually as possible to the second treadmill, Andrew’s eyes following me as I cranked up a playlist through my headphones and started jogging to warm up.
I peeked surreptitiously at his machine. He was at eight miles per hour. Totally respectable, though I had run much faster in my heyday. He was the last person I wanted to see today. We had already butted heads on a brief call to discuss training for the incoming summer associates. I did not understand his obsession with powerpoints. No one wanted to sit and look at slides for 45 minutes. I may have messaged him to say he was an “uncreative stuffed shirt.” He had responded that I was a “disorganized workaholic who lacked structure.”
It took one to know one. Here he was just days before Christmas, instead of out with his friends or seeing his family. If I had known anyone else would be here, I would have worn the world’s baggiest shirt, instead of this slightly cropped running tank that exposed far too much of my stomach.
I started warming up with a slow jog, feeling better than I expected. I paused to stretch, avoiding Andrew’s eyes in the mirror. He also stopped the treadmill to stretch. Classic Andrew move. I nearly rolled my eyes. He loved to psych out an opponent. And even here, we were opponents. His arm flexed as he pulled his leg up for a quad stretch. I looked away quickly, tearing my gaze from his lean form.
As I stepped back on the treadmill, I cranked the speed up to an eight, determined not to let him best me. Childish? Yes. But par for the course when it came to competing with Andrew Markman.
I hit my stride after a few minutes, remembering how good it felt to move like this, arms swinging, breath coming steady and sure.
Andrew seemed to be keeping pace with me, his breath huffing out and long legs eating up the treadmill with ease. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, rivulets of sweat running down his throat, his slightly too long hair flopping over his brow. He ran like a runner, like I did, back held straight, feet striking evenly.
I kept an eye on him in the mirror as he leaned forward, cranked the speed up to a nine and grinned at me, white teeth flashing. It was more of a baring of teeth than a real smile.
He wanted to play it like that? Fine by me. I reached over and increased my speed to match his. Nine wasn’t too bad. At one point in my life I had run a sub-six minute mile. But that had been years ago and running on a treadmill was always more difficult for me than running outside. After a few minutes I started to breathe harder. From what I could see, Andrew didn’t seem to be straining at all. Asshole. I clenched my teeth and increased the speed to 9.5. He immediately upped his as well. I let myself adjust to the increased speed. I couldn’t keep this up forever and he knew it. Maybe I could tire him out quickly, before my lack of endurance caught up with me.
I leaned over to crank it up and he immediately mimicked me. Our eyes met in the mirror and he smiled, a real smile this time. It caused his green eyes to crinkle at the corners, his lips to curve up on one side, like he was embarrassed that we might be on good terms. I glared at him and restrained myself from giving him the finger, all while my feet pounded against the treadmill’s track. My chest heaved with exertion as I very deliberately pressed the arrow to increase to 10, then 10.5, then 11, all the while keeping contact with Andrew’s eyes in the mirror. He was stone faced but his eyes glimmered as he cranked up the speed on his own machine. Damn. We were really going now. I had forgotten how fast I had been able to run in college. I felt like I was sprinting.
Andrew was similarly winded, his chest heaving, shirt stuck to his abs (not that I was looking) but his long legs were still moving strong and sure, while mine felt like jello stuffed into a sausage casing and ready to explode. I needed a strategy. Our eyes met again in the mirror and held, our breath coming in short gusts, sweat dripping off our foreheads and down our necks, faces flushed. Andrew’s eyes darkened slightly as he took in my parted lips and blotchy chest. His tongue came out and did a slow sweep of his bottom lip. Something inside me tightened. This had to end soon. I was going to collapse any moment now. I reached up to pull my hair out of face, my top riding up and exposing my stomach and the underside of my sports bra. Andrew stumbled slightly and hit the “stop” button immediately, falling forward onto his forearms and letting his head hang while he caught his breath.
I ran for another 30 seconds, just to prove I could, and then stopped, wobbling slightly on my shaky legs.
Andrew looked up from where he was slumped over the front of the treadmill. His eyes glittered almost maniacally. Was he finally having the psychotic break Cynthia and I had been waiting for?
“Nice job, MC,” he said, quietly. “That was a good trick.”
I took a step back, slightly unnerved by his intensity. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I started stretching, bending down to touch the floor, partly so I couldn’t see his eyes.
His voice came from above me, slightly rougher than before. “I think you’re being deliberately obtuse.”
My head popped up and I glared at him. “Nice, Andrew. How many times in one day can you insult me?”
He shrugged and leaned casually against one of the support pillars, his pose belying the seriousness of his gaze, which didn’t stop tracking me as I grabbed one of the muscle rollers from the corner.
“You shouldn’t have come up here.”
I snorted. “Who are you? The big bad wolf? I don’t feel like sparring with you today, not after the week I’ve had. You’re just salty that I bested you.”
