Page 23 of Mr. Big Shot

She laughs. “Like I care? I’ll bet you had every single tutor imaginable, someone to guide you through step by step. I’m actually surprised you didn’t get a perfect score to be quite honest. Meanwhile, I took the LSAT while I was working part-time at a law library and putting myself through college and taking eighteen hours of upper-division courses.”

“That’s incredibly impressive. You should be proud.”

She rolls her eyes.

Suddenly, I know, no matter what, I’ll never win with her. I could tell her I finished second in my class at Columbia Law and she’d find some way to twist it around on me. No amount of hard work will amount to much in her eyes.

At the end of the day, she’s right. Out of the two of us, she had the harder road getting here. I won’t argue that. I just don’t understand what she wants from me now.

I steady my voice, trying my hardest to smooth things over once and for all. “I understand that I had a leg up in this industry, and I’m not trying to lord that over anyone. In fact, I’d like to separate myself from my last name as much as possible. I want to work and prove myself here, same as you.”

“Okay, Kendall Jenner…”

Her snide remark is the last straw. Is she kidding?! I’m not using my long legs to strut down a catwalk. I’m using my brain to practice law. I want to explode in a myriad of ways, to argue my point until the cows come home, but Hudson’s advice from yesterday comes through just when I need it the most.

Ignore them and get to work.

He’s right.

I grab the contract I need to review and work straight through lunch. Sophie wanted me to edit a letter of intent and get it back to her by 3:00 p.m., so I do one better and get it to her with additional notes by 1:00. Then, I also draw up an exclusivity agreement for her to review.

A lot of my work as a lower-level associate involves constant communication with clients. Even though it’s only my first week on the job, I’m already sending and receiving over a hundred emails a day, easy. A large portion of that communication results from being part of a team. Since I’m working beneath Sophie, most emails she gets, I’m CC’d on as well. Compared to Hudson’s workload, Sophie’s deals are small potatoes, but it’s still a lot of responsibility.

There’s a closing scheduled for next week and another scheduled for the week after that. Both deals require a lot of documentation, and it’s my job to confirm we’re getting everything delivered to our clients to review in a timely manner, signed, and filed away appropriately. Staying on top of paperwork in mergers like this is half the battle, and though it takes time (unpaid time) for me to do it, I’m trying to stay as organized as possible.

I don’t leave my office until 7:32 p.m., and Elwood Hoyt is far from empty. Half of the office is still going strong, which makes me think maybe I should still be working too. Kendra’s gone. In fact, none of the first-year associates are still here. It’s Hudson’s corner of the office that’s abuzz with life. Upon closer inspection, I see Lucy’s at her desk, but other attorneys file in and out of Hudson’s office. Some are even splayed out on the floor or the couches in his reception area. Whatever is going on must be big if it’s requiring all hands on deck.

I’m slightly envious of everyone involved, which is hilarious given the circumstances. I wish I were getting the privilege of staying late, getting orders barked at me by Hudson Rhodes?

Well…kinda.

I almost emailed him last night and again this afternoon, just to check in and confirm there wasn’t anything else he needed from me. He hasn’t reached out once since I left his office yesterday afternoon, and I refused to bring him another cup of coffee this morning. There have been no further tasks, none of the “favoritism in reverse” he promised me. I should be happy about that, I suppose.

I’m about to pivot toward the elevators and be on my merry way when I suddenly stop.

Be assertive. Go after what you want.

Hudson’s office draws me in like a moth to a flame.

Associates are everywhere. Papers. Memos. Highlighters. Pens. Laptops. Empty soda cans. Venti coffee cups with ice cubes swimming in pale dregs. Bethany and Sophie are sharing Lucy’s desk. Bethany has two pens tucked behind her right ear and another behind her left. She’s furiously flipping through pages when she looks up and sees me standing in the threshold between the hallway and the sitting area.

“Do you need help?” I ask with a lopsided smile.

It’s a dumb question. It’s like I’m watching a person drown in a pool, and instead of jumping in to help, I call out to them, Hey! Everything good?

She’s probably about to tell me to fuck off. Instead, she points to a thick stack of papers bound with black plastic rings.

“Sit down, read through that. Highlight anything pertinent. We’re examining KinBio’s numbers, comparing them over time and benchmarking them against competitors.”

My ears perk up. KinBio is the pharmaceutical company Hudson discussed on the phone yesterday. Did the FTC get back to him today? Is the merger moving forward?

I drop my things immediately and am about to pick up the bound pages when Bethany’s stomach audibly growls. Sophie laughs, and I look around the room, registering that most everyone is in the same boat: tired, overworked, hungry.

“Have any of you eaten?”

An attorney across the room jerks his head up with wide eyes. “Shit. Dinner. I knew I forgot something.”

The concept of an evening meal hadn’t even occurred to him, or anyone else in the room for that matter.

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