FOURTEEN
I didn’t sleep at all after the Rainbow Room debacle. My eyes were puffy and bloodshot. My head felt too heavy to lift. Yet for the first time in a long time, I felt absolutely, resolutely calm.
I was calm because I’d spent all night figuring out exactly what I was going to do after tomorrow’s big meeting with SunCorp.
I was going to walk into Adler’s office and do what I should have done in the first place: I would inform him that I was off the Diversity Initiative, effective immediately.
I would tell him that closing the SunCorp deal on time required all of my energy and that I intended to execute it as my number one priority.
I would remind him that it was why I was at the firm in the first place, not to pose for pictures and be their trained seal.
Tyler Robinson had been right. I never should have gotten mixed up with any of it to begin with.
I was sick and tired of being the good little associate, doing everything—everything!
—the firm ever asked and then getting punished for it. Well, no more.
Murph had been trying to text me all morning.
Sorry, his first message said.
I was an idiot, read his second.
Well, there’s one thing we can agree on, I texted back.
Murph’s reply came immediately.
Glad to hear it. Jury Box at 1?
Meet you there.
I wasn’t mad at Murph. Not really. He had just been trying to find out what he was being left out of, that was all. I, of all people, should be able to relate to that.
One o’clock was prime attorney lunch time, and the Jury Box was crowded.
I spotted Murph right away, chatting with Gavin Dunlop.
They were in line at the hot entrée station.
Today’s Specials: Miso black cod, wasabi shrimp dumplings, crispy kale.
I was in no mood to make small talk with Gavin Dunlop.
Especially not when things were so weird with Murph.
He and I needed a chance to feel things out, to see where we were with each other—without Gavin Dunlop or anyone else hanging around.
I ducked behind a gaggle of summer associates waiting for their made-to-order brick oven pizzas.
“God, I’m so sick of the lunch options here,” said one. “We should’ve gone out.”
“Yeah, the Jury Box food sucks,” said another.
“I don’t think the food’s that bad. Seriously, what sucks is that only attorneys are allowed to eat in here,” said a third.
I looked up. It was Cameron Alexander. Her statement seemed to shut up her companions, who meekly collected their pizzas and headed toward the cashiers. I smiled in spite of myself.
“Hey, Ingrid, there you are,” I heard Murph call out.
Busted.
“Hey.” I pasted what I hoped was a normal expression onto my face.
Murph waved me over to where he and Gavin were standing. I shook my head and gestured toward the salad bar. “I’ll meet you at a table.”
I took my sweet time assembling a salad and getting a Diet Coke, hoping that by the time I paid and made my way over to join Murph, Gavin would have made himself scarce.
No such luck. When I rounded the corner into the dining room, Gavin and Murph were sitting together at a table over by the windows. They spotted me and beckoned.
I sighed, made my way over, and sat down.
“Hi, Ingrid,” said Gavin.
“Hey, Gavin.”
“So how was the thing at the Rainbow Room last night?” he asked. “At the partners’ meeting this morning, people were saying it went off pretty well.”
I hesitated, studying Gavin’s face. I wondered if this was secret code of some sort, whether Gavin had already heard all about last night, and was being disingenuous. Then I decided that Marty Adler would not have deemed my behavior worthy of mention at the partners’ meeting.
“It did,” I said brightly, hearing the strain in my own voice. “I thought it did go well.”
“Good, good,” said Gavin. “And I hear you’ve been doing an amazing job with SunCorp, by the way. Bet you’ll be glad when that deal’s finally announced next week.”
I shrugged. “It’s been great experience. SunCorp’s obviously a terrific client to work with.”
Murph sat silently, looking from one to the other of us. He cleared his throat. “BOR-ing. Let’s not talk shop. Hey, Gavin, you coming out to the last softball game tonight?”
“Can’t. Too much work.”
“What? It’s the All-Stars game!”
Gavin shook his head. “I really can’t. But hey, when you see Hunter, tell him congrats for me, will you?”
Murph laughed. “For what? Being such a brilliant coach?”
“Nah. I’m not talking about softball, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t hear the news?”
“What news?” Murph said.
“Hunter got the Great American Trust business. He actually won the damn beauty pageant. Beat out five other firms.”
Murph hesitated before letting out a snort. “You’re shitting me.”
Gavin shook his head. “Nope. Listen, no one was more surprised or happy than Marty Adler. We all thought Hunter was going to fuck this up for sure. But he’s smarter than he lets on.
” He winked at me, letting me know he wouldn’t normally talk about other associates behind their backs, but this was Hunter, after all.
Gavin looked at his BlackBerry. “Gotta run.” He left his tray with his half-eaten lunch on the table.
Murph caught me staring at him and grinned. “That’s pretty fucking unbelievable, isn’t it? Who knew?”
I laughed. “What, you mean about Hunter? Not that surprising. Maybe Hunter’s not as dumb as he looks. He did, after all, marry well.”
“Heh. That’s true.”
“Anyway, at least we were able to hold on to the client. I’m sure that’s got to be a relief. Even to Adler. Maybe especially to Adler.”
“Yeah,” said Murph.
I made sure no one was looking over at us. I lowered my voice and looked hard at Murph, forcing him to make eye contact with me. “So listen,” I said. “I’m not mad about last night, you know. I was just irritated because—”
“Last night?” Murph asked. “Oh, yeah, right. Look, I’m sorry. I know I was being kind of a jerk.”
I had to smile. “Forget it,” I said, and meant it. Then I added, “Just be glad you never have to deal with any of this diversity stuff. I mean, the whole thing . . . it’s just such a charade.”
Murph smiled absently. “A charade. Right.”
“Seriously. Take last night. So the evening starts with Adler making this big speech about how this firm embraces diversity, blah blah, and then he starts introducing all these big-deal speakers, right? Like Charlton James Randall, to give you an idea.”
“Who’s Charlton James Randall?”
I laughed and playfully nudged his arm. “Right. Who’s Charlton James Randall. You’re kidding, right?”
He frowned. “No, not kidding. Who is he?”
“Only one of the best constitutional scholars of our time. And if you ever read any critical race theory, his work’s everywhere.”
“Must be my public school education showing,” Murph snapped. “Sorry.”
“Whoa.” It was as if he’d stung me. “Um, hello? Where did that come from?”
“Just forget it.”
Murph was being very confusing.
“And by the way, what public school education?” I said. “Last time I checked, Williams College cost about fifty grand a year.”
“Not when you’re on financial aid, it doesn’t,” he muttered. “Anyway, I was talking about high school.”
“I went to a public high school, too,” I said, not really sure why I felt compelled to tell him this, why I was so defensive all of a sudden. How did I get into this pissing contest? Were we going to argue next about who walked farther to school? Uphill in the snow?
“Look, just forget I brought it up.”
We were quiet for a moment, and then Murph said, “I’m sorry.
I don’t know what I’m blabbering about. I’m just really tired.
I’m operating on, like, three hours of sleep.
The partnership vote is coming up. It’s a lot at once.
” He reached for my knee beneath the table and gave it a squeeze. “Sorry, okay?”
I brushed his hand away, looking around over my shoulder again. “Okay, okay.” This felt like we were on a chaperoned junior high school trip, this furtive, sneaking-around-at-work thing.
We regarded each other silently. In that moment, I managed to convince myself that everything was normal between us. Murph was just in a mood. What we needed was to be able to really talk and be alone together again.
“Listen, Murph,” I said gently. “We should make some plans away from the office. Just the two of us. What are you doing tomorrow night? Adler and I have the big pre-close meeting with SunCorp tomorrow, but after that, I’m going to be in the mood for some celebrating.” I looked at him hopefully.
He seemed to be focusing somewhere else. “What? Oh. Tomorrow night. Sure. Okay.”
I told myself we would straighten things out once we were in more intimate surroundings than the Jury Box.
Murph and I were so good together—or could be—but we were best when we were one-on-one, away from the bullshit and corporate politics of the office.
As soon as this SunCorp deal was over, as soon as I got off the Diversity Initiative, as soon as Murph and I were both officially invited into the partnership, we would simply take it from there. Everything would be just fine.