Page 17 of Due Diligence

She furrowed her brow when she heard my question. “Well, I want to be a lawyer,” she stated. “Obviously. Why else does someone take the LSAT?”

“Oh, there are a ton of reasons why. In my case, I went because I could. I went because I knew it would be easy for me—because my parents knew it would be easy for me. They knew everyonethere would just have to stand back and watch me crush them.” I paused. “I was so unhappy there though.”

Bethany was quiet, watching me almost cautiously. She reached over and put her notebook on the table before she faced me again with her arms folded over her chest.

“Beth, I know you probably wish you were more like me because these things come so easily to me. But I would giveanythingto just care about something,” I told her. I shook my head after a few seconds. “I would happily struggle and work my ass off if it felt important to me. I’ve just…I don’t know. Nothing has ever really seemed worthwhile.”

Knowingly, she reached over and squeezed my hand. “Cass.”

“Yeah?” When I looked up at her, I realized there was this lump in the back of my throat—and no matter how many times I tried to swallow, it still felt tight.

“I don’t have to study anymore tonight. Do you want to watchScream?”

Faintly, I smiled.Screamwas my movie for when I was struck with ennui.

“Start it,” I agreed. “I’ll make drinks.”

Chapter 6: Marcus

Every day, no exceptions, my day started at five in the morning. I didn’t have much of a say in the matter. My cat, Sammy, would wake me by pawing at my comforter like she was trying to dig me out—as if I wouldn’t remember to feed her if she didn’t tell me to. I had every right to be annoyed with her, but I was a softie. When she started meowing sweetly and snuggling up in the curve of my neck, I just couldn’t say no.

After I fed her, I leashed up my dog, Frank, and we took a walk over to the dog park so he could relieve himself. While we were there, Frank would usually try to start a fight with the bigger dogs—kind of like he knew I would sue the living shit out of anyone who tried to hurt him. Never did I think I would be a father to spoiled pets, but there we were: It was their world and I was just living in it.

Once we were done at the dog park, I went back to my apartment. I did thirty minutes in the gym on the second floor, typically just enough time to run a mile and cool down with someyoga. Then it was a shower, breakfast, coffee, and a ten-minute walk to the office.

Typically, I was the first one to arrive at seven thirty. This was mostly per necessity. I needed to get there early to be productive, otherwise I was juggling swords and trying to dance at the same time. Most days when I got to the office, the place was dark and desolate—like I liked it. Today, I was caught off guard when I walked in and saw Cassie sitting in the fishbowl alone.

The only lights on in the entire office were the overhead sconces in the conference room. They shone over her like she was a priceless item at the Met. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was by her design, frankly. She looked over her shoulder when she heard me come in, her brown eyes meeting mine as I walked around the side of the room to where the door was located. When I entered the fishbowl, I stood by the door and glared down at her.

As usual, she was perched primly with a spine so straight that the most well-tuned military battalions could eat their hearts out. She was dressed in a slim, tan pantsuit and a white chiffon blouse that was so well-tailored and well-coordinated that she should have been providing sartorial consultations to First Ladies for generations to come.

“You’re early,” I noted. My voice came out soft, not having spoken all morning.

“Can I talk to you?” Her tone was sharp, bordering on dangerous. As soon as I heard it, I knew exactly what was about to go down. We were about to engage in a verbal smackdown of epic proportions. Well fine—let’s fucking go. My only regret was that I hadn’t downed a second cup of coffee already.

Without a word, I walked over to my chair at the other end of the table and I took out my laptop. I situated it on the glass tabletop and booted it up, letting the light from the screen reflect over me and the television mounted on the wall behind me.

“Did you hear me?”

Yep.

“I’m a little busy at the moment,” I snapped, keeping my eyes on my screen, which I justknewwas going to piss her off. “Is it important?”

“Yes.”

I heard her rise from her chair. When I glanced up from my laptop, I saw Cassie standing with her hands resting flat on the table, bent at the waist. It was a classic, 90s power pose, like something straight out ofJerry Maguire. I lifted an eyebrow and scanned her up and down, blatantly enough that she saw me do it, but not too exaggerated as to reveal I was going out of my way to aggravate her.

A sigh escaped me. “Well, you’ve already interrupted my flow, so you may as well go for it.”

“I just want to address what happened yesterday,” she said, clearly striving to keep the pace of her words measured, “and to apologize, again, for any lapses of professionalism on my part.”

“Okay.”

She paused, eyes widening just the tiniest amount. This was a pivotal moment for us: I could keep talking and clean this up, or I could just leave it at that:Okay.

Bottom line: My response was rude. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. But I saw Mark Zuckerberg do it once at a dinner party and I remembered how effective it was at pissing off Jack Dorsey. That night, I swore I would try it out one day, and the strategy didn’t disappoint.

Cassie folded her plump lips over for a moment before she released them. Then she pressed them back together. She wasn’t wearing lipstick today, but her lips moved into a perfect pout all the same. She exhaled and said, “Can we move forward?”

---