It's hard to believe that this was the job I was so excited about getting when it's all turned out the way it has, but I suppose nothing seems quite as good as it does in the beginning. Same with Griff, I thought that he and I had something worth pursuing after we figured out that it wasn't just going to be a one-time thing, but he's a player. His job is to be a player. His job is to win, not to build a lasting relationship they way a lawyer does with a client over many years. Just play a game and win.
I suppose I should have listened to those football wives when they told me that he wasn't exactly boyfriend or husband material. But then again, what was all that, ‘do you just see me as a fuck?’ stuff he was saying?
Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.
Whatever. The last thing I need to be thinking about now is the relationship between Griff and I continuing in any fashion. As explosive as it may be. I'm sure they're going to spend half the meeting telling me to break it off with him anyway, as a condition of keeping my employment at the firm. Whether that's legal or not. It will never cease to amaze me how a law firm will stretch and bend the law to their own benefit.
I'm not sure what I'll do if they request something like that, but I guess I will cross that bridge when I come to it—which should be in about ten minutes.
I grab a coffee and go to my office and wait, but I can't seem to stomach it. I wonder if they got a new supplier because it doesn't seem to be as appealing as it used to be. The fact is, nothing does. My stomach's been pretty nasty lately. Must be all the stress.
Getting up, I decide to check and see if there's a different coffee I can make. This is Seattle after all, and we should have the best coffee in our cupboards for clients. I pull open the door and go through the selections. Sumatra, Nighttime Dreams, Janen's Decaf, Baby's Best.
That's a weird name for a coffee. Baby's Best.
Suddenly it hits me. Baby.
Baby! How could I have been so stupid? That's why I'm sick in the morning. Is it possible that I could be pregnant? I'm on the implant, it's good for three years, and I got it ... I open my phone's calendar and frantically search the entries. I got it three and a half years ago…when I had my last boyfriend. My heart sinks. My stomach continues its wild ride for the day, dropping into my shoes.
Panicking, I realize that I can't go into this meeting not knowing if I'm having a baby or not. I just can't! I run out the door just as the receptionist is calling my name. “Miss Williams!”
“I'll be right back,” I call to her. I don't look back. I have to get to the drugstore and pick up a pregnancy test on the double.
Holy shit, holy shit, I repeat to myself as I run as fast as I can in my Jimmy Choos, but these heels are not made for walking. I pull them off and run, vowing to buy new hose in the drugstore.
Before long I'm in the firm bathroom with my prize. The box promises 98% accuracy, and that I'll know my fate in three minutes. But what it doesn't say is that they'll be three of the longest minutes I have ever spent in my life.
A knock on the door. “Miss Williams!” It's the receptionist. “I'm glad I found you! Where were you? They're waiting for you in the boardroom. Are you going to the meeting?” I can hear her tapping her foot.
“Of course, I am!” I say with false brightness in my voice. “Tell them I'll just be a minute. Tell them it's ... uh ... female troubles. Wait, don't say that! Uhhh ... Tell them I'm on a call with a client and we're just wrapping up. Just put them off somehow, ok Madeleine? I'll be there in three minutes!”
“Ok, I will,” she says, doubt filling her voice. “Are you ok, Odell?”
“I think so!” I will the test to show the line. Just one line. Just one, not two. One pink line. “I'll be out soon, don't worry.”
“If you’re sure,” she says uncertainly.
I hear the clack of her heels as she walks out of the bathroom. I stare at my phone, counting down the seconds, trying to put everything else out of my mind.
But I can see it in my mind, Griff and a baby. A little tiny baby, in his huge arms. Griff holding him close, gently moving a corner of blanket away from the baby's little face. Griff, throwing a soft toy football to a little boy, showing him how to hold it, how to catch it. Griff taking him to a game, in his little jersey.
Meeting my parents with the baby, and Griff ... my parents giving the side-eye to his tattoos, and wondering about his past. Still, they have to be impressed with what he’s achieved, don’t they?
Why are all these thoughts so strong? I can't have a baby right now. I should be imagining going to the clinic, taking a pill, and holding a heating pad to my stomach while I bleed for a few days. Eating ice cream alone, while I wait for the pain to subside. I learned a long time ago not to tell my folks a single thing about my life whenever I can avoid it. Especially not something like this.
Two lines means pregnant, the box says.
One line means you didn't mess up your life.
“Sorry everyone, I was held up. I had some urgent business to attend to,” I say, not taking the bait. “But now I'm here and ready to talk.”
“So Odell, let's hear your side of the story,” says my father. He’s keeping a stern face, not letting on any emotion.
“You know, we could go that way, Warren,” says Carlton, “But I think in the interests of saving the time that Odell has already wasted through being late, we should just get to the matter at hand.”
“Very well,” my father says. “What do you have to say, Carlton? I'm sure we're all very much looking forward to it.”
“Odell has worked at the firm a month,” Carlton says. “A mere month. And although she managed to get her case dropped, what she failed to realize were two critical things. First, that the person accusing her client is, in fact, herself the daughter of a big client of our agency. The utterly humiliating way that she treated the client has ensured that one of our biggest patrons, the rock and roll star Bon Grayson, has left the firm. Permanently. While we couldn't expect her to outright lose her first case with the firm, and nobody would have asked that of her, she should have realized that all of our cases are important to us and that she needs to treat all members in every situation with full respect.”
His glare is burning into me, and I glare right back. Goddamn it, he set me up. He never mentioned the entire time that Sabrina Forbes was a client's daughter. And it's not as if they share the same last name. I had spent hours studying the client lists, before starting work at the firm. One word and any or all this could have been avoided. And springing it on me at the meeting, rather than giving me a chance to play the game? I'm fuming.
“Furthermore, in another show of her brazen disrespect,” he continues, “And I'm sorry to say this to you, Warren, as I know that you have been a stellar member of Smith Williams Smith, she has entered a sexual relationship with her client!” He looks around the room. “Her very first client. Who’s next?”
I’m disgusted, but he continues. “They've both been seen entering each other's domiciles late at night, and not leaving until the wee hours of the morning.”
I gasp, shocked that he's been aiming so hard for my downfall that he would have me watched.
“Yes, Odell,” he says triumphantly. “What's good for the goose is good for the gander, is it not? You tell me.” His voice is growing stronger, even. “You sneakily went around and got evidence against the daughter of our biggest client, so why should we not have a closer look at your habits?”
I'm speechless. For once. I would never have guessed that Carlton's hatred of me went this far. To go so far as to spy on me?
“And what would we find if we followed you, Carlton?” I ask. I keep my voice as even as I can. “In fact, we don't even need to follow you to know what you try to hide. Carlton Smith, I understand that you were a founder of this company, but if you want it to survive into the twenty-first century, then you have to move with the times. I hold the cell phone in my hand, finger on the button, knowing that while I would win against Carlton, I would also torpedo my career if I pressed it.
“When Smith Williams Smith hired me, I knew that it was partly because my father,” I gesture in his direction, “is and always has been such an important part of this place. But I naively believed that you would appreciate what I brought to the table as well. Not only would I help you attract younger clients and mirror the progressive attitudes that are a benchmark of the generation to come, I am also a very talented lawyer in my own right. Instead of supporting me, you’re blocking my progress every step of the way! I got the charges on our client dropped— a huge victory for me and for the company—and never heard a word about the accuser being the daughter of another client. If I had ever been made aware of this, I would have instantly changed strategies. But considering that this freely-available knowledge was instead kept from me, by important people in the firm.” I eye Carlton as I say this. “I understand that certain people in this company are more interested in keeping the status quo, rather than building something that can be more powerful and strong than a company that is so demographically challenged. I lean on the desk in a power pose, both fists on the oak.
“I'm sure when my father left,” I again nod at him, “Carlton, you were happy to see a man of color leave, so you could halt the further inroads of color from creeping into your place here. But to go so far as to sabotage me, to the point that we lose an important client? That's on you. I stand up again. “And frankly, I find it reprehensible.”