Page 28 of Someone Just Like You

“Keep it up and I’ll put in a good word for a promotion to director at year end. No guarantees since you haven’t been a legal recruiter for very long, but it will get you on their radar.”

I widened my eyes. “Wow. Thanks.” A promotion to director now was four years ahead of my five-year plan. For an oily guy, Michael was supportive—as long as you did things his way. I hoped he wouldn’t try to make me his apprentice. I shuddered at the thought.

“Cha-ching!” His blue eyes danced.

Right. With a promotion came a higher rate of commission.Focus on the positive.

Checking his watch, he said, “Gotta bounce.”

On my way back to my office, I stopped by Cindy’s. She was arguably my closest work friend, despite our nearly twenty-year age difference. We’d met on my first day a year earlier when she’d been assigned by Jill to take me out to lunch, and she’d become a mentor of sorts. Although we worked very differently, we talked shop and compared notes often.

I knocked twice on her open door.

She looked up, brushed a golden curl away from her forehead, and grinned. “Molly. The prodigal recruiter!”

“Go me!”

“You happy?”

With that simple question, my smile flattened, and my belly tangled with knots. Happy wasn’t the word I’d use. Sneaky was more accurate. But I saw nothing wrong with using the resources at my disposal to uncover anything unpleasant and possibly harmful at a place of employment. Obviously there was no way to know for sure without a crystal ball, but I had to try. In my opinion, it was neglectful not to. I just resented being forced to go undercover to do it. Because I couldn’t tell Cindy I was going behind Michael’s back, I forced my lips to curl back up and gave the only acceptable answer. “I amsohappy!”

Back at my desk, I had one thing on my mind, and it wasn’t a potential promotion. I typedCeiling Cinto Google on my phone. Before I even finished spelling out the full company name, the dropdown read my mind—both convenient and terrifying—and offered several options:

Ceiling Crashers

Ceiling Crashers Rosaria Martin

Ceiling Crashers Instagram

I clicked on the first link, which brought me to the company website. In a nutshell, their mission was to help cis and trans women set and meet career and business goals, whether finding a job at someone else’s company or forming their own. They offered different ranges of coaching so that cost wouldn’t be a barrier to women who couldn’t otherwise afford the assistance. Rosaria Martin, the founder, spent a decade climbing the corporate ladder because it was part of her life plan, but career fulfillment had eluded her until she realized her passion was to helpotherwomen findtheirpassion. Her story touched a personal nerve, and my interest was piqued.

I switched to the home page, where right at the top was an announcement of a talk she was giving about the club and its membership at the 92nd Street Y the following night. What were the chances? My second date with Timothy was later in the week, and I had no other conflicts. It had to be a sign.

I wanted to meet Rosaria Martin…pick her brain for tips and tricks for gleaning a candidate’s true workplace desires and helping them find the perfect employer match. Placing the phone facedown on my desk, I spun around in my chair. The nerves in my stomach tightened with stress.

Was it too much? Doing some research from my home computer behind Michael’s back was one thing, but initiating a relationship with a career coach who took my personal mission to a whole new level was…I assumed the first adjective that would spring to mind would be “defiant” or “insubordinate” and accompanied by the familiar sting of apprehension. Instead, it was what my nani would callbershert.In other words, meeting Rosaria Martin felt inevitable. Without thinking, I stopped spinning, resumed hold of my phone, and sent a text.

Molly:So…Ceiling Crashers?

I buried my face in my hands.Jude? Really?Why?Was there a way to recall texts?

Ping.

Jude:??? Sentences are supposed to have a subject AND predicate.

I had known he’d throw shade and reached out anyway because he was next to me when I first discovered the company’s existence. Asking Esther, or even Timothy, would have required a full recap. Jude’s response was to be expected, but I’d come this far. Jude was, after all, the reason I decided to continue my pre-interview vetting process without Michael’s knowledge. What he’d said in my apartment had sunk in. Of course, I’d never feed his ego by telling him so. But if anyone would applaud this mission, it would be him. Although he’d never be quite so direct about it either.

Molly:The founder is giving a talk tomorrow night. I’m debating going.

I chewed a knuckle while I waited for his reply.

Jude:We’ve completed our mission. Your nights are free to do what you want.

I cringed. I had no business asking for his validation like a thirsty cream puff. I was hit by a fuzzy memory of long, long ago, before I’d accepted that Jude was my enemy. In the early years of elementary school, I’d tried everything to regain his approval, whether it was taking my first jump off the high dive at the town pool despite fear I’d crack my skull or getting a home run at kickball during recess. But that was then, and this was now. We were on a break from our rivalry, but we weren’t friends. And I didn’t need his or anyone else’s permission anyway.

He was right, though. Afterconsultingwith Eddie, Nicole had authorized us to finalize the reservation for the anniversary party at Society Cafe, which meant my evenings were free to do what I wanted again, even if that included attending a seminar hosted by a woman who inspired me. I wasn’t the only one who stood to benefit from the connection. If any of her members were interested in the legal field, I could be a trusted contact…someone who would always have her client’s best interests at heart. I stared at the framed quote from Ruth Bader Ginsburg hanging above my desk: “Women belong in all places decisions are being made.”Damn straight.

With a little help from RBG, my own decision had been made. I slipped my phone into my purse as another text came through. With an exasperated sigh I pulled the device back out and read the message.

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