by Beth Orsoff
“Nothing.”
“A night of seduction?”
“You wish.”
“Then what?”
I knew he wasn’t going to let this one go. “I just needed a date for my friend’s wedding, that’s all. No big deal.”
“Why do you want to bring a date to a wedding? Don’t you know weddings are a great place to meet people.”
“Yeah, I met you at the last one.”
He laughed. “Touché.”
“Maybe it’s because it’s on New Year’s Eve,” I added, “but this one’s going to be all couples.”
“Do you expect me to believe that America’s favorite romantically challenged serial dater can’t get a date?”
I explained to Joe that I had planned on going with Greg until Simone uninvited him, and now it was too late to find someone else. He didn’t need to know about Marty.
“I’m really sorry, Julie. I’d love to go if I wasn’t working, but I’ve already committed.”
“No problem, Joe. I understand.” Actually, I didn’t. But I consoled myself with the knowledge that at least he was blowing me off for work, and not another woman. Somehow that made it better.
Chapter 66
Partners for Life
I had barely begun to feel sorry for myself when Simone ran into my office and shut the door.
“Guess what?” She didn’t wait for a response. “The partners are meeting tonight. You’re up for partnership this year along with me and Greg.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I heard it straight from Diane.”
Rosenthal’s assistant was the source of all reliable gossip. “Why is he considering me now? I’m only a sixth year. Technically, I’m not up for consideration until next year.”
“Greg’s only a sixth-year and you didn’t think it was weird that he was up for partnership a year early.”
“That’s because Greg’s a kiss-ass.” Now that she and Greg were on the outs, I could say these things to her again.
“True. But you’re a celebrity. To Rosenthal, that’s even better than a kiss-ass.”
* * *
I didn’t need to work late, but I did anyway. I was hoping the partners’ meeting would end while I was still in the office and that someone would tell me the outcome. By eight o’clock, I was tired of waiting. I went next door to Simone’s office and told her I was leaving. She said she was going to stick around a little longer and promised to call if there was any news. I stopped by Greg’s office too, but he was already gone. No one in the firm doubted that Greg would make partner. Especially not Greg.
* * *
Simone, Greg and I spent most of the day Wednesday going in and out of each other’s offices, trying to decide whether no news was good news or bad news. Rosenthal let us squirm until five o’clock, then he called us down to his office for a group meeting.
The three of us lined up on his couch. Greg on one end, Simone on the other, and me sandwiched in the middle. If Rosenthal noticed the tension between Greg and Simone, he didn’t mention it. He closed his door, leaned on the edge of his desk, and with his arms folded across his chest said, “I’m sure you know we had a partners’ meeting last night. And I’m sure you also know that one of the items on the agenda was whether each of you will make partner this year.”
He moved behind his desk and sat down before continuing. “What you may not know is that we didn’t finish last night. We’re reconvening again tomorrow night, so if all goes well, I should have an answer for you by Friday.”
“Why aren’t you meeting tonight?” Greg asked what I and I was sure Simone was thinking.
“I have a previous engagement,” Rosenthal said then smiled. He really loved watching us sweat.
* * *
I arrived at work Friday morning at 8:15. That was the earliest I’d ever made it to the office. I’d even beat the bagel man. I was surprised when I found Simone sitting at her desk.
“You couldn’t sleep either, huh?” I asked.
“No. I figured I might as well come in and get some work done.”
“That’s what I told myself too.”
We spent the next hour drinking coffee and playing darts. This time it was Rosenthal’s picture tacked to the board.
At 9:15, I went back to my own office and pretended to work while I waited for Rosenthal to arrive. He walked past my door promptly at 9:30, but didn’t say a word.
After half an hour, Rosenthal must’ve decided he’d tortured us enough for one week. He walked into my office and closed the door behind him. I held my breath.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You are now a partner at Rosenthal & Leventhal.”
I breathed, but I was still in shock. I never thought he’d do it. Not this year anyway. It was too soon. I stood up to shake Rosenthal’s hand, but he walked around the desk and gave me a hug. I thanked him and he beamed at me like a proud father.
“Just remember,” he said, “next time you’re on television you need to mention the name of the firm.”
“Done.” I was too excited to be annoyed.
Rosenthal walked out and turned towards Simone’s office. When I heard him shut Simone’s door, I put my ear up to our common wall. I could hear voices, but I couldn’t make out the words. I didn’t have a glass, so I tried holding a paper cup up to the wall, but it didn’t help. I waited until I heard Rosenthal’s voice in the hallway, before I ventured out. He was halfway to Greg’s office when I walked into Simone’s. She was staring out the window with her back towards the door.
“So?” I asked.
“You first,” she said with that inscrutable expression I could never pull off.
“Yes,” I said.
“Me too!” she yelled and broke into a smile. We hugged and congratulated each other and planned how we would spend all that extra money we were sure we would make now that we were partners. Simone said she was going to trade in her old BMW for a Jaguar. I was debating between using the extra money for a down payment on a condo or paying off my student loans.
Greg joined us a few minutes later.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. He was the only one of the three of us that didn’t look happy.
“Didn’t you talk to Rosenthal?” he said.
“Yes, I made partner. Simone too.” I didn’t dare ask him if he’d made partner.
“Did you ask him what kind of a partner?” Greg said.
“How many kinds are there?” Simone asked before I could.
“Two kinds,” Greg said. “Equity partners and income partners. Equity partners actually own a piece of the firm and share in the profits. Income partners are partners in name only. It’s really just a glorified title for senior associates so they can tell their clients they’re partners.”
“That bastard!” I said at the same time Simone said, “Rosenthal told you this?” Simone was still in denial. I’d already moved into anger.
“Not in those words,” Greg said, “but yes.”
“How come he didn’t tell us?” Simone asked.
“Well he didn’t volunteer the information to me either,” Greg replied. “After he congratulated me, I started asking him about the procedure for buying into the partnership. He told me I didn’t need to worry about that just yet. When I pushed him on it, he admitted that he’d made the three of us income partners.”
“Did he give you an excuse?” Simone asked.
“He started with his usual bullshit about how the firm wasn’t as profitable as it used to be and—“
“What does that mean?” I asked. “He only made one million this year instead of two million?”
“Apparently,” Greg continued. “He said he couldn’t consider any new equity partners before things turned around.”
“And did he say how long that would be?” Simone asked.
“He was his usual non-committal self,” Greg said, “but thought it would be at least another year or two.”
“And when was he planning on telli
ng us this?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Greg said. “You’ll have to ask him that.”
I didn’t need to ask. I knew if I did, he’d come up with some lame excuse and then try to placate me by assuring me that income partnership was just the first step towards equity partnership. Then he’d tell me that, in the meantime, I should be patient and develop business on my own. As if I would stick around working for him if I had lots of my own clients. Fuck that! I would take the Rosebud job and tell Rosenthal to shove his income partnership right up his ass.
Chapter 67
Career Crossroads
I tried to calm myself while I perused the menu at The Barn. Mark Parsons showed up ten minutes late in his Friday casual khakis and black turtleneck. I’d changed out of my jeans and into my black pants suit before I’d left the office. Originally, I’d planned on changing in the ladies room in the lobby, but I was so angry at Rosenthal that I didn’t care if everyone in the office saw me in my suit on a Friday and assumed I had a job interview.
We ordered salads and entrees, then Mark opened with personal questions. He asked about Noah and I told him that was over. When he asked why, I deflected. Then he asked if I’d had any other interesting dates lately. I told him none worth mentioning. I wanted this to be a professional relationship. I didn’t want to set bad precedent by sharing personal stories with my future boss. Besides, I had no good stories to tell.
I reciprocated by asking Mark about his wife, his new baby and his trip to Africa. He told me his wife and child were fine, then regaled me for the rest of the meal with tales from his safari. When we’d finished our entrees and Mark still hadn’t mentioned the job, I started to worry. I stopped worrying when he ordered coffee and dessert.
“Did I tell you how great you looked on Hollywood Tonight?” Mark said.
“No,” I replied. I wasn’t sure which part was more disturbing—that he saw me on Hollywood Tonight or that he said it like he was hitting on me.
“Not that you don’t look great in person,” he added.
I gave him a halfhearted smile. “Thanks. Does that conclude the business part of our lunch?” I knew I was being rude, but he was making me uncomfortable.
He continued unruffled. “No, it’s just the beginning.” He took a bite of the chocolate cake the waiter had left in the center of the table. “You should try the soufflé cake. It’s delicious.”
He was right. I ate while he talked.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said. “As you may know, up to this point Rosebud has primarily been a film production company. But recently we’ve decided to expand into television.”
Here it comes. He wants me to be their television lawyer. I would’ve preferred film, but I’d take TV. I could always move over to the film side later.
“We’re always looking for good material,” Mark said, “and we think you’re it.”
They must really want me. I should milk this. “I’m flattered Mark. I really am. But before you say anything else, I think you should know that Rosenthal just made me a partner.”
“Congratulations! You should’ve told me sooner, I would’ve ordered champagne.”
Why was he so happy about it? Didn’t he know that meant he would have to pay me more money?
Mark insisted we toast. “To your continued success,” he said and clinked his coffee cup against mine. “I guess you’ll be making so much money now that you won’t need ours.”
Oh shit, I’d overplayed my hand. Now he thinks I don’t want the job. “For me, it’s not just about the money. It’s about personal satisfaction too.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “So let’s get down to it. What are you looking for?”
“That depends on what you’re offering.” I knew better than to start the negotiation.
He gave me a knowing smile. “We were thinking $50,000 plus five percent of net.”
Was he nuts? I knew his offer would be low, but I didn’t think it would be that low. My base salary was more than double that figure. And what was this five percent of net? Company profit sharing? I tried to keep my expression neutral when I said, “That’s kind of low.”
“Have you had higher offers?”
“Well, I haven’t really been looking.”
“Maybe I can get them up to seventy-five thousand, but that’s as high as I can go up front. I might be able to work with you on the back end.”
Back end? Was that supposed to mean bonus? “Mark, first year lawyers make more than that.”
“I’m not hiring a first year lawyer, Julie, I’m buying the rights to your story.”
“What?”
“Haven’t you been listening? Rosebud wants to buy your life story rights.”
At first I was too stunned to speak. Then I had to laugh. Before long I was hysterical.
“Are you okay?” Mark asked.
I just shook my head yes and continued laughing. Then he started laughing too. After I’d calmed down enough to speak I said, “I thought you were offering me a job.”
That made Mark laugh even harder, which sobered me up quick. That part wasn’t funny. Corporations hire their outside counsel to be in-house lawyers all the time.
When Mark noticed I wasn’t laughing anymore he said, “It’s not that I wouldn’t offer you a position if I had one, I just don’t have an opening right now. But I’ll certainly keep you in mind if anything becomes available.”
“That’s okay.” I was still offended that he would laugh at the notion of hiring me.
“So everyone at Rosebud loved you on Hollywood Tonight,” he continued. “We think your story has real potential.”
“As what?”
“A series. Or possibly a made-for-TV movie. We haven’t decided yet.”
Were they all crazy? “I don’t see it. My life is pretty dull.”
“On the contrary,” he said, and raised his hands in the air as if he were placing the words on an imaginary billboard. “Romantically challenged single serial dates L.A.” He lowered his hands and reached for his coffee cup. “That’s good stuff.”
“They exaggerated that part. I’m not romantically challenged, and I’m certainly not a serial dater. I’m just a lawyer that happens to do a fair amount of dating.”
“It sounds like a hit to me.”
“What are you thinking? Sex in the City without the sex?”
“No, we have to have sex.”
“Well there wasn’t any. There were only dates.”
“Then we’ll have to change that part. Otherwise no one would watch.”
Chapter 68
It’s All in The Attitude
I spent the weekend celebrating my partnership. After my initial anger at being duped subsided, I wasn’t that upset. I never believed Rosenthal would make me a partner a year early anyway, so I decided to take the income partnership as a compliment. It was at least partial validation. It would do. For now at least.
Greg felt differently. He couldn’t get past feeling like he’d been slapped in the face. We went out for drinks Friday night, ostensibly to celebrate, but mainly I just listened to Greg bemoan his fate. Somehow it made me feel better. I just hoped that didn’t mean that deep down inside I was a terrible person. It was bad enough being a lawyer, I didn’t want to be a terrible person too.
Saturday was better. I met Simone at the bridal store to offer advice on her last fitting. I’d been a bridesmaid seven times. I knew about fittings. Afterwards, we treated ourselves to a champagne lunch. Simone’s attitude about partnership was closer to mine than to Greg’s. She hadn’t expected to be made a full partner, so she wasn’t devastated by the idea of income partnership.
“Besides,” Simone said after her second glass, “I was planning on having kids soon anyway.”
“So? You can have kids and still be a partner.”
“Not if I want to work part-time.” In her best Rosenthal imitation, including admiring her reflection in the window and fingering her hair, Simone s
aid, “That’s a luxury only afforded lawyers who aren’t serious about their profession.”
We both knew it was only a matter of time before those words came out of Rosenthal’s mouth.
* * *
Saturday night I met Kaitlyn and Steve for a celebratory dinner. They came as a package now, at least on weekends. Luckily, I liked Steve. He cracked up laughing when I told him about my lunch with Mark Parsons. Kaitlyn didn’t think it was quite as funny since she was the one who was sure Mark was going to offer me a job.
“So are you going to sell him your life story rights?” Steve asked.
“Of course not,” I replied. “Do you think I want to be known as a romantically challenged serial dater for the rest of my life?”
“Why not?” Kaitlyn said. “If it will make you rich and famous.”
“It’s not going to make me rich. They offered me at most seventy-five thousand dollars, which after taxes will be forty thousand.”
“Don’t forget the five percent of net profits,” Steve said and started laughing again.
Everyone knows there’s no such thing as net profits.
“You can still be famous,” Kaitlyn offered. “I’ve never known anyone famous before.”
“And you’re not going to, so get used to it. I just want this whole Hollywood Tonight thing to be forgotten so I can start dating again.”
As my mother likes to remind me, I’m not getting any younger.
* * *
After drinking all day Saturday, I had to spend all day Sunday lying on the couch with Elmo, recovering from a massive hangover. That’s another down side of getting older—the hangovers are worse.
Shockingly, the bright spot of my day was when my parents called. They were ecstatic when I told them that Rosenthal had made me a partner. Even my explanation that I was only an income partner, which wasn’t really a partner at all, didn’t dampen their enthusiasm. They could still brag to all of their friends that I was a partner in a prestigious Los Angeles law firm. Appearances would be upheld.
“Naturally I would’ve preferred you called me and told me you were getting married,” my mother said. “But this is good too,” she added before I could object.