Page 48 of Writing Mr. Right

I grit my teeth, but at his unrelenting stare, I sigh. “Columbia was the dream,” I answer. “But you have to have backups for the dream, so I also had New York University and Brooklyn Law School.”

“Alright, there you go,” he says. “That’s a start—you have your top three schools picked out. What about your LSAT score?”

“I never took the LSATs,” I admit. “I didn’t think I wanted to be a lawyer until a few years ago, and by then I had no time to study or take the test. Plus, I didn’t want to spend so much time and energy on studying if I didn’t have a way to pay for law school.”

“Okayyyy…” Aashiq drawls. “We can work with that. But if we want to see this come to fruition, then you need to ask Colin for the money.”

“How?” I ask. “He’s barely in the office. He’s not even here right now!”

As if on cue, the door behind me opens. I spin around to see my boss strolling in, coffee in hand, staring down at his phone.

Aashiq presses his hands to the small of my back, and his gentle push sends a thrill through my body. “Speak!” he whispers.

The words tumble out as I stagger forward. “Good morning, Colin!” I squeak out.

Colin abruptly glances up, startled. “Oh, good morning, Ziya,” he greets. He peers at the desk. “Where’s the guy who follows you around?”

I furrow my brows and peek over my shoulder. Aashiq is still behind me, but he must’ve made himself invisible to everyone but me. He hasn’t done it in a while, which worries me because if he expects me to confront Colin without him, he’s out of his mind.

Don’t worry, I’ll still be here.Aashiq’s voice tickles the hairs at the back of my neck, and I ignore the goose bumps sprouting on my skin.But you need to have this conversation with the two of you. Now, go on.

I bite the inside of my cheek. “He’s not in yet,” I reply to Colin. Sweat dampens my palms, and I resist the urge to wipe them on my dress pants. “No one is. Before everyone else gets in, though, I was hoping we could talk?”

Don’t say it like a question, Aashiq states.Be firm in your resolve.

“I was hoping we could talk,” I repeat, dropping my voice so it carries obvious finality.

Colin raises a brow, and I’m not sure if it’s because I repeated myself or because he’s shocked that I’ve determinedly asked to speak with him. I wait for his dismissal, my shoulders caving inward, but to my surprise, he says, “Okay, sure. Let’s go to my office.”

My pulse quickens, but Aashiq’s hand on the small of my back reminds me to keep my spine straight as I follow behind Colin. I lift my chin and square my shoulders, hoping that’ll encourage confidence to hold myself together.

When we enter Colin’s private office, my mind flashes back to the first time I saw it. I was nearly twenty-four, and completely burnt out from working odd jobs to pay rent. It turns out it’s hard to find a job in the legal field when you don’t intend on becoming a lawyer. I spent hours doom-scrolling on LinkedIn, gritting my teeth as I passed on posting after posting because they wanted people who had their JDs. At the time, I had a political science degree, because I thought it’d be my “safe” route while I worked to get my writing career off the ground. Unfortunately, I underestimated how long that would take, so after a couple of years waitressing (which is an all-around terrible job but infinitely worse in New York City), dog-walking for a woman who lived in the Upper East Side (which I quit after only a couple of weeks because the commute and hours absolutely killed me), and working at a cozy indie bookstore (which I loved and would never have left, but the owner retired and decided to sell the place and it became a candle store), I knew I couldn’t last much longer working in a job not in my field. By Allah’s grace, though, I refreshed the LinkedIn page one night while downing a two-liter bottle of soda right when the job posting for a legal secretary position was posted. I applied right away, and a week later, I was in Colin’s office giving my interview.

I remember being absolutely mesmerized; New Scope Law was on its way to being one of the biggest firms in Brooklyn, and after a few years of being out of the loop within my own field, I’d forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by the law. It reminded me of how much I liked the legal industry, and why I wanted to be part of it in the first place. The aura was just so professional and serious. The imposter syndrome during the whole interview was so real I thought I was going to puke on the shoes my mom bought me for the occasion. Thankfully, though, there was no cookie toss, and Colin hired me.

The office is as flawless now as it was then. A floor-to-ceilingwindow shows an unobstructed view of the Brooklyn skyline, and a tall potted plant sits in each corner of the window wall. When I first started working here, I watered them every morning, until eventually I realized they were fake.

Colin’s large mahogany desk sits by the window, with his own chair behind and two comfortable black chairs in front, perfect for keeping clients relaxed and calm. Framed certificates cover the cream-colored wall beside it. They range from Colin’s undergraduate to JD and PhD qualifications, to his fifteen years working as a volunteer for the ACLU. He’s an intimidating man, hence why I’ve been so reluctant to properly ask him for money to fund my own studies.

I take a seat as Colin sits behind his desk. Aashiq hovers next to me, and his presence is enough to soothe the tension in my shoulders. I place my hands in my lap and straighten my back, then lift my chin. Even if I don’t feel confident, I can at least give the impression I do.

Colin settles himself in, then clasps his hands together and rests them on top of the desk. “Alright, Ziya,” he starts. “What can I do for you?”

Before I can even say anything, his phone pings with a text. Colin glances down at it, then says, “Just a second,” to me as he picks it up and starts typing.

My shoulders deflate. Aashiq places his face next to my ear. Even though Colin can’t hear him, he whispers,You shouldn’t take that from him! A respectable boss would focus all his attention on his employee when she’s requested a meeting. You have to get back to work. Just because your position is lower than his doesn’t make his work any more valuable than yours.He holds up a finger.And remember, use very firm language. Be intentional.

Indignation rises to my face. He’s right; I still have to open up the office properly before the others show up. “Colin,” I start, and his gaze briefly flickers up. “I have some work to get done before the office opens at nine.” I tap my watch. “It’scurrently eight forty, so if you could answer your texts later on your own time, that’d be great. Right now, this is time for the two of us to have a meeting.”

Colin’s eyes widen, and immediately I want to take back all my words, but I fight that instinct and stand my ground. To my shock, he turns his phone face down. “Sorry, you’re right, Ziya,” he says. He leans back in his chair, and he gives me a friendly smile. It reminds me a lot of my grandfather, the one I visited in Pakistan as a kid. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Okay, now that I have his attention, I don’t want it anymore. I pull on my fingers but halt the movement when Aashiq places his hand on top of mine. I peek at him out of the corner of my eye, and at his encouraging nod, I speak. “I wanted to talk about the opportunity for me to do my Juris Doctor again. But this time I want it to be a serious discussion.”

Immediately, his grandfatherly aura fades. “I thought we already discussed this issue.”

My jaw sets. “It’s not an issue,” I correct, though not unkindly. “Me wanting to further my education isn’t a roadblock we have to overcome as a company. It’s something we agreed on when I first had my interview here.”

“But I thought it was something you weren’t interested in,” Colin tries. He sits up straighter in his seat. “You said so in the same interview.”

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