7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Addie
M y first day rolls around before I know it. The paperwork and onboarding process went faster and smoother than I had expected last week. So, I get to start early. I’m hoping that’s a good sign.
I roll out of bed and sit with my legs dangling over the edge. Stretching my hands above my head, I feel the nerves settle in. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve started a new job. Realistically, it's been a while since I started a new anything.
Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I click the side button and smile at the family group chat message that lights up my screen. Both of my sisters and even my little brother sound off in an array of good luck messages. I’m pretty lucky to have them in my corner.
Grabbing my first day outfit choices off the dresser, I make my way to the shower. I hang my clothes on the back of the shower door so the steam from my shower will loosen any of the wrinkles that might be there. Can’t be going to work looking a mess on the first day.
I probably should have washed my hair yesterday instead of today, because taming my mane and making it to work on time are two things that usually never coincide. My hair has some natural curl to it, which almost always makes me feel like a frizzy mess.
Doing what I call a power shower, I get all squeaky clean and out of the shower in less than ten minutes. Wrapping my towel around my chest, I pull out my blow dryer and makeup bag. I unpacked as little as possible, hoping to be out of Isla and Cal’s love bubble after the first couple of paychecks hit.
Hearing a faint knock, I make my way to my door. Pulling it open, I see Isla standing at the door with a shit-eating grin and a large coffee.
“Happy first day, bestie! I got you a celebratory latte. As all good days start with a good cup of coffee first.”
“You shouldn’t have. Thank you so much.” It's been a year since she and I have lived close together. We’ve never lived quite this close, but as eager as I am to have my own space, I can’t lie, it is nice having your best friend at arm’s reach. Especially when your nerves are viciously attacking you.
“Did you decide on the power suit?”
She calls it a power suit because she said, and I quote, “You look like a bad bitch in that. You have to wear it.” The bottoms are a taupe color that fit the flare of my hips like a dream. The jacket matches the pants, and the blouse is a powder pink. Pulled together enough to look professional, but the little pop of pink lets my personality shine through.
For years, I denied my love for pink, thinking it made me cliché. But as I grew up and my self-confidence followed, I decided pink is my color. This suit makes me feel confident, and that's what matters at the end of the day.
“You keep getting ready. I am going to hunt through your shoes and give you some options.” She dashes to the walk-in closet and I make my way back to the bathroom.
I get ready as Isla scurries through my room, comparing shoe options and keeping me company. Her company soothes my nerves, and now, I just have a bit of bubbling excitement running through me. A new hotshot lawyer, better pay, and I'm closer to my bestie? A girl could get used to this.
Once I am dressed, Isla demands a fashion show to help pick shoes. We settle on a closed-toe pump. They’re my most expensive pair, but they’re also my most comfortable pair. So, it was an easy choice. Plus, the nude color ties in well with my outfit.
I grab my purse off the dresser and face Isla. “How do I look?” I do a little circle, so she can give the full inspection
“You’re giving off Elle Woods vibes and I'm here for it.”
“Perfect.” Smiling, I pull Isla in for a hug before I head down the stairs and off to kick ass. Finally, I’m starting to feel a bit more like myself.
“Addie, can I talk to you for a sec?” Tyler asks as he strolls his way to my desk, his hands tucked into his pant pockets. Like all lawyers, he is dressed to the nines—nice suit, nice shoes. “I meant to be here when you first got here, but I was running a few minutes behind.”
The lawyer I’m going to be working for isn’t here yet. So, after I was shown to my desk, I’ve been a lookie-loo and trying to catch the feel of the place.
“It’s all good. The lady downstairs—I think her name is Sherry—showed me up.” The lobby was nice, with big windows and nice tile floors. From the looks of it, there was more on the floor, but I didn’t have a chance to explore that far.
He nods his head with a polite smile. “Nice. Well, I will be lending you my right-hand, Regina, for your training. I’m not expecting it to take you long to get the hang of things. She should be here any minute.” He fidgets for a second. “Also, know that there will be no retaliation should you need to bite back. Some lawyers can have a chip on their shoulders.”
I find myself nodding my head before he even finishes the statement. Because, been there, done that.
“I got this. Thanks for stopping by, and for taking one for the team by lending me your legal assistant. I promise I’m a quick learner.”
“No problem. Well, I need to get my day started. If you need anything, or find yourself needing some backup, you know where to find me.” He sends me a wave as he walks down the short hallway to his office.
Well, it’s only been half a day, but this sucks and I hate it here. When they said they had a new hotshot lawyer with a chip on his shoulder, I didn’t realize he would be acting like something crawled up his ass and died.
Tyler is a freaking liar; Mr. Becker is not nice. He's a bit of a dick, and that is putting it lightly. The willpower I have used to not bite his head off all day should have won me some sort of award or plaque. It would read: Addie, Queen of not junk punching bossholes.
True to his word, Tyler’s legal assistant, Regina, is showing me the ropes on their process in this office. Apparently, my job title is no longer only legal assistant. It is, and not limited to, legal assistant, secretary, professional filer, certified minute tracker, research doer, and my favorite of all, Mr. Becker’s bitch. Technically, these are all normal tasks, but he definitely delegates a heavy load to me.
Now I get why they pay so much. And I also know why Tyler gave me permission to be a little sassy, because if big man gives one more snide comment about me not knowing what I’m doing, he is about to feel some bite. And since it’s my first day, no shit, Sherlock, I don’t know what I am doing,
The good news is the office is nice. Not quite as large as my old one in Colorado, but super sleek. I have my own little office tucked right outside of Mr. Becker’s. Probably so I can hear him barking demands without him picking up the phone every two seconds.
“Addie, where are those files I asked for?” Mr. Becker asks.
I look at Regina, hoping she knows what the hell he is talking about. Her brown eyes widen with the same fear as mine. She answers my silent question with a shrug of the shoulders. Cool, she has no clue what he’s talking about, either.
“Did you ask for some files?” I say, flatly. This man is on my last nerve, and we still have three hours left in the day.
“Yes, I emailed them to you.”
I refresh my window and surprise, surprise, NO email. Sighing I push my chair back on the floor and stand. I will myself not to throat chop him as I walk into his adjoining office. His face is flushed with irritation as he clicks his mouse with so much force, I’m surprised it isn’t broken.
“I have no emails from you at all.” I keep my tone inquisitive and calm, hoping that he will match my energy and take a chill pill.
He spins in his chair to face me. “I’ve been sending you tasks all day; you have emails.” Okay, no to the chill pill. Got it.
Honestly, he does look kind of terrifying. He’s six-foot tall and built like a brick house. His suit is putting in double time to stretch over his arms and not rip at the shoulders.
“Do you mind if I check your computer?” I have a hunch and am praying to sweet baby Jesus that I am right.
“If you think that will help, be my guest.” His tone of voice is drenched with smugness. He gestures to his computer and rolls his chair back, offering me a front row seat at his computer.
Leaning forward, I catch a whiff of his cologne. Since he practically bathed himself in it, it’s hard not to. If he was as nice as the cologne smells, we’d be in better shape. I should have known he’d be a pretentious little shit when he asked to not be called by his first name.
Scanning the screen, I find the issue. “Ah. Yeah, I found the issue. Apparently, they don’t teach you to spell check in law school.”
“Excuse me?” He slowly blinks at me. While my tone was respectful and light, the words landed exactly how I wanted them to.
“Okay, two things. I am a human. Treat me like one. I am happy to help, but this attitude will absolutely not fly with me. Two, you spelled my name wrong. Ask nicely, and I will fix the issue for you.” Crossing my arms, I look down at him. It’s not my first day working with lawyers who think they’re untouchable. Usually they are, but I have found that if you bark back a little, they tend to lie down.
“Who do you think you are talking to me like that?” His brows furrow and his face is painted in bright red anger. For a second, I wonder if I’m in danger of him hulking out.
“I could ask you the same thing. The big, fancy degree on the wall doesn't give you the right to treat people like garbage. Unless you want to do ALLLL of this,” I motion to the stacks of files, “by yourself, you better check your attitude at the door. If I mess up, absolutely, you have the right to voice your frustrations. However, here,” I point to the computer, “being that my name isn't Asaline Hunter, this was your mistake.”
He blinks twice at me, and I have to wonder when the last time anyone dared to speak up was. My second thought is that it was nice being employed for a day, because I probably just shit the bed again with my big mouth. Again. Hopefully Tyler will come through and refuse to have me fired.
His blue eyes flash before he takes a second to steady himself. Mr. Becker surprises me with his response: “All right. Please correct the issue, and then get to work. I expect all of the tasks to be completed before you leave.”
“That, I can do.” He is still a bit more of an ass, but maybe realizing I am not a punching bag will help him settle.
I make my way to my office and plop down. My heart is racing from the lingering adrenaline. I tilt my head back and gather my thoughts. It is going to be a long rest of the day.
“Um, I am going to need you to teach me how to do that,” Regina says, eyes wide. That makes me crack a smile.
“The trick is to be at the point in life where you have very little shits to give left.”
“Noted. Now, send me half those tasks. If we're lucky, we can get out of here before midnight.” Her bright, white smile brightens the room a little. As long as she doesn’t turn out to be as cunning as Maggie, I think I might have found myself my go-to person at work. Her kindness radiates through her.
I forward her the astonishing twenty emails. If he is sending us this much shit, what is he doing over there? We are literally doing all the legwork for his next case. Looking into data systems, pulling records, and cross-referencing them for relevance to this particular case. Which, by the way, he hasn't even fully explained to me. So, I am kind of just hoping for the best here.
Regina has kicked ass as a trainer. She’s five-foot-nothing and filled with nothing but work ethic and good jokes. Considering this is only my first day, she’s taught me more than I learned in a year at my last job. It’s nice working side by side with someone who takes it seriously.
We get lost for hours. By six, we are completing our last task, when it hits me: I am supposed to meet Isla at the cooking class. It’s literally only the second week, so I can’t leave her hanging. Pulling my phone out of my desk drawer, I find a slew of messages and missed calls.
“Shit. Regina, I am sorry, but I have to go. I forgot I was supposed to meet Isla at six. Are you okay if I head out? I will come in early tomorrow to finish up.”
“No worries. You did great today. I bet you will only need my help for a few more days.”
“I appreciate your faith, but let's wait and see how day two goes.” We laugh at that, and I grab my bag and beeline for the door.
Son of a gun. If I haul ass, I can make it and only be ten minutes late. I can’t wait to see what Sam’s entitled ass has to say about people arriving to his precious class late.