The Wolves Catch Their Attorney(2)

“Life’s pretty boring without a challenge every now and then, don’t you think?” she replied. But what she thought was, I’m going to kill that goatish fly-bitten maggot pie of a manager.

Sierra didn’t stay to watch the others finish the course. It would have been fun to see them fail, especially the man who’d sneered at her, but she had a reputation to maintain and looking as exhausted and sweaty as she did now would not be good for her image, or her future rainmaking possibilities. And that’s what this team-bonding event was all about for her. Proving to the clients that she was able to beat the lawyers from the other firms not just in court, where they already knew she excelled, but in the testosterone-fuelled events that inevitably accompanied every meeting.

That’s why she drove a candy-apple-red sports car. Oh, sure she liked to go fast. Who didn’t? But the point was that men in her position drove luxury sports cars, so she upped the stakes and bought one in a color that could never be ignored.

To maintain her position, to get ahead and make partner sometime soon, she had to continue being the company rainmaker, the attorney who won her cases and brought in a continual stream of new clients, as well as keeping all her existing clients. And the only way she could do that, could smash the glass ceiling and rise to partner, was by beating all the men at their own game, in court and out of it.

Now she needed to shower and change and make sure she was there ready to speak to everyone about her experiences on the ropes course—on acing the ropes course. Right after she picked out a shirt that would hide the bruises she could already feel developing on her forearms from winding the rope around them. And after she’d rubbed some massage oil into her aching thigh muscles.

Damn, it was hard work always having to prove that she was better than everyone else. Why couldn’t they just accept she was a damn good lawyer and leave her to spend time winning cases in court instead of on a fucking ropes course? Bonding be damned. The only thing she wanted to bond with was a cup of strong black coffee and a couple pieces of rich dark chocolate.



* * * *



An hour later, her hair was washed, dried, and piled neatly up into a clip displaying her bare neck. She’d added a set of long, dangling earrings she adored but would never put on for court because they were too distracting, and was wearing a red dress that covered her body from neck to wrists to ankles, hiding the myriad bruises she’d been appalled to see developing on various parts of her pale skin.

She’d stood under shower water as hot as she could bear it for ten minutes before washing, hoping the heat would soothe her muscles, then had massaged oil into all the sore places she could reach, topping her self-medication off with two Tylenol. She was determined to move around as though her body wasn’t battered and aching just to make sure those fucking men didn’t start laughing at her.

As usual she circulated through the meeting room, careful never to put her drink down or even to hold it where she couldn’t see it. Businesspeople were just as likely to spike a woman’s drink as the men one met in the local bar. That’s why she only ever drank sparkling water. She didn’t want anything that might hide the taste or smell of something added to her glass.

When she’d climbed the ladder to begin the ropes course it had seemed to her that everyone was watching her. Now, as she spoke to people, that opinion was confirmed. Some men were openly admiring and those ones she laughed and joked with. Others ignored her and she was fine with that attitude, too.

One man looked her up and down as if she was of no account and said, “Climbing a few ropes is nothing. Likely you learned to do that as a teenager escaping from your bedroom at night.”

Several people gasped at his implication about her sexual behavior. But Sierra was used to that kind of comment. And she remembered this man, too.

“You’re right. The real battleground is in court, isn’t it? I believe we met in front of Judge McNeill in April last year. My client won over a million dollars in damages from your client, didn’t she?”

“Hansen versus Rickard. One point two five million. I remember that case, too. You handled it very well, Sierra, very well indeed,” said another man.

Sierra relaxed as the conversation turned to talk about various cases, until dinner was announced and they all moved into another room.

For the rest of the evening Sierra was working just as hard as she’d worked on the ropes course, but it was the kind of work she loved, meeting people, talking to clients and potential clients, discussing old cases and points of law with colleagues. Even after the official finishing time of the event, she stayed to talk to people, hoping to leave them with a positive impression. Of course, by midnight some of them were tired from the day’s activities and went to bed, and others were becoming quite drunk, but the ones who counted were asking intelligent questions, sounding her out about her business strengths, and she talked on, finally very happy with how the whole day had passed.