Page 6 of The Boyfriend List
“Thanks.” I fiddle with my hair, tying it back into a sleek ponytail. “How’s your work going?”
He fires off a list of tax cases he’s working on. How it’s possible to be interested in tax law, I have no idea, but London is a nerd. He plays it up with his glasses and wardrobe, but he has hidden depths that few people take the time to get to know beneath the sweater vests.
Like how he’d do anything for his family. I thought I had a problem with filial piety, but he takes it to another level. And he’s a surprisingly talented painter whenever we go to the pottery-painting cafe. He also secretly loves horrible puns, even if he groans whenever I make them.
Most importantly, he’s steady, stable—a constant in the ups and downs of my life in a way that I don’t think anyone else appreciates.
Which is why I could never risk losing our friendship.
“Congratulations on winning your tenth case this year,” my boss, the senior partner, Wendy Ma, says during my second quarterly review of the year. “You’ve been such an asset to the firm since starting here, Gloria, and I’m glad I convinced Derek we should take you on.”
Derek McMann is the other partner at McMann and Ma, an Irish, middle-aged lawyer who’s always one step ahead of his opponents. Compared to Wendy, he was more reluctant to hire me fresh out of law school with only a year of articling experience.
“Thank you, Ms. Ma.” I’ve never allowed myself to call my boss Wendy, though she’s asked me to multiple times. For one thing, she’s ten years older than me, and my boss. Addressing her so casually doesn’t sit right with me.For another, there’s to be a wide gulf between us that’s only exaggerated by her blazers with shoulder pads and permed helmet of curly hair. “I’m glad you convinced him, too.”
Corporate law isn’t exactly the most glamorous of jobs. Nor is it the career I thought I would end up in once I graduated law school. When I started law school, I thought I would be fighting for justice and defending people whose rights were trampled by unfair policies, or fighting for the environment.
Not defending corporations who only care about their bottom line. They also employ hundreds to thousands of people, so I tell myself I’m defending their employees, but it’s gotten harder to do so the more time goes on.
Still, I enjoy my job. Nothing compares to the fulfillment of finishing a case. Or the satisfaction of finding problems that others overlook, or close-reading law articles and case files to spot incongruencies. Plus, I would miss London if I left.
“I want to offer you a promotion,” Wendy says. “There’s a senior associate position opening up in November, and I think you would do great. Of course, there will be others competing for that spot, so you’ll have to be on your A-game for the next four months. But I would love for you to move up in the firm. You have so much potential, and I’d hate to see you waste it.”
“Wow.” I knew she thought highly of me, and that she thought I was a good associate. Butseniorassociate? That’s definitely a step up. “Um, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll at least think about it.” She taps her Cross fountain pen against the leather blotter on her desk. Then she leans in and adds, “I know Derek wants Giorgio to get this spot. But I convinced him to make it a competition.”
The knowledge that she made this into a competition, instead of merely passing the position on to one of my coworkers, settles onto my shoulders. Like a challenge… but also a lot of pressure. What if I crack?
“Thank you so much. Of course I’ll think about it. I mean, I won’t just think about it—consider me in the running for that spot.” The words flow out of my lips before I can even think about what I’m saying, which is totally unlike me.
But the last thing I want is for Wendy to think I’m ungrateful. She’s done so much for me and my career, and of course I want this opportunity. It’s everything I want—everything any lawyer in my position would want.
It’s the logical next step for me. It’ll bring me the money, stability, and security I need. After all, I’m not the only one depending on the salary I bring in. My family back in the Philippines is relying on me, too.
I can’t let them down.
Chapter Two: London
I’m packing up my briefcase at the end of the workday when an unfamiliar piece of paper slides out of one of my files.
It’s got a jagged edge, like it was ripped out of a notebook, and lines of handwriting fill the page.
The top line is in Gloria’s handwriting:THE BOYFRIEND LIST. My eyes greedily roam the page before I can stop myself.
This is obviously a personal note. I don’t know how it got mixed in with my papers, but I shouldn’t keep reading.
Yet I can’t help staring at the list. Half of the items are written in a different hand, making me think she made this list with a friend—Raina, maybe?
Gloria’s handwriting is neat as always, with little circles over the letteri‘s andj‘s in place of dots. I scan the items, smothering a laugh at some of them. She’s written a myriad of qualities, some more eccentric than others.
Some of the criteria apply to me, like not wearing ripped jeans. But why am I letting myself consider whether I could live up to Gloria’s boyfriend list? In all the years that we’ve been friends, she’s never shown any interest in me.
She’s never given me any sly hints that she wants to go out with me, never brushed her hand against my arm during a late-night study session or gotten jealous of other women. Gloria is obviously not into me.
Because I can’t ride a horse, do water sports, or sing karaoke. If she’s looking for that in a man, I’m the last person she would pick.
I lead a life that’s steady, predictable, and under control. It’s carefully cultivated, after all the chaos of growing up with four siblings. Not to mention parents who tolerated each other’s presence enough to have five children, but not enough to make their marriage a happy one.
