Page 62 of Defended By Love

My very astute argument is punctuated by the sound of me trying to force open the bottom drawer of Dominic’s desk. It’s locked.

“Would you mind…?” I ask, gesturing to the drawer.

“Yeah, sure,” Grant says absently. Suddenly, the cover of the drawer finds its center of gravity on the other side of the room. It smashes against the wall against one of Dominic’s framed degrees. “I think that it needs to be noted how incredibly hard it is to train them at such an old age.”

“They’re the same age.”

“Right. Twins… That is pretty sexist.”

I nod, just as I find my personnel file in Dominic’s drawer. I figured it’d still be in there since I had my review with him last month and he’s absolute shit at returning files. I usually have to return them for him like the world’s most overpaid mail courier.

“If I were her, I’d sue.”

Grant laughs, falling back into one of the uncomfortable chairs in Dominic’s office. I always thought that they were purposely uncomfortable so that the other person would feel awkward and intimidated.

Genuis ideas like that are why he’s my mentor—was my mentor.

Not that the chair technique seems to be working on Grant. He’s draped across the chair with his legs dangling over the armrest and his head and arm against some art on the wall.

“Just when I think I couldn’t fall for you any harder, you say you’d sue the Council.”

I shrug. “Maybe just the green guy. Depends on if I could prove it was systemic sexism or not.”

Grant just keeps on smiling at me like I hang the moon. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why. I’m talking about wanting to go after the patriarchy embedded in his beloved childhood films. Even I’m a bit exasperated with myself.

And, apparently, I’m not the only one who sees my own shortcomings. As I open up the file, I get to read about all of them in detail. It’s interesting stuff.

Wait—did I say interesting? I mean fucking awful.

As soon as I open it, words like ‘not a leader’, ‘poor people skills’, ‘lacks a certain quality’, ‘incessant need for validation’ all jump out at me, but it’s the ‘not a consideration for future candidate for partner’ in Dominic’s sloppy handwriting that cuts to my very core.

Betrayal flushes through my body, stopping my breath and sending my heart into overdrive. And, truly, there’s no better word for it than betrayal. Just a little while ago, I sat in Dominic’s uncomfortable chair while he told me that he tried. He tried. He made a pitch to the partners for me to start taking on more of a prominent role and it just wasn’t the time. He said that if I kept working hard, maybe next time. He said that he’d let me in on a couple key cases of his to help me out, help me make an impact with the other partners.

He let me in on a couple of his cases and I worked my ass off on them. I carried those cases and got him wins. Which is probably exactly what he wanted.

Why would he ever want me to get promoted? To rise up? Why would he ever want to lose his little work gopher who did everything for him unquestioningly.

Just as the tears threaten to spill out (seriously—who am I with all this crying?), Grant’s hand is soft on the top of my back where my neck meets my shoulder.

“Once you’re done all your legal stuff in a galaxy far, far away, you can always sue these fuckers,” he says in a gentle voice.

I snort out a laugh.

I know I should love that idea. I should be filled with a righteous anger that makes me want to bring down the punishing blade of the law, but I don’t.

For the first time since I became a lawyer, I don’t want to litigate. I don’t want to argue, convince, sway, prevail, or persuade. I don’t want to be me.

Grant’s other hand, the one not rubbing light circles on my back, plucks a cigar up from the desk.

“Cigars? Really? Could this guy be any more of a cliché?”

“Oh, you don’t even know. Dominic asked Beth to buy some fancy Cuban cigars so he and the other partners could celebrate. Instead, she bought the cheapest ones she could find at a local smoke shop. The cheapest of the cheap. At the Christmas party, they all sat around, talking about how they could tell these were quality.”

Something twitches inside me like a snake raising its head from a lazy nap. I remember when Beth told me about what she’d done. My first instinct was to tattle on her to Dominic, but then I walked up to the office where they all sat. Just the partners. Through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, I could see them as they lounged on the different chairs, away from the rest of the party, and smoked. They looked like a tableau of white, male privilege—the first supper of opulence and greed.

It was a scene I somehow knew I’d never be a part of. I could win case after case, but I’d never be a part of the celebratory smoke afterwards.

“I like Beth,” Grant says with a chuckle.

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