by Carsen Taite
“But if it’s easier, do you give back the money?”
“No. Are you going to tell me you think we’re crooks if we don’t?”
Perry squirmed in her seat. “I wasn’t, but it’s a valid point, don’t you think?”
“It’s worth raising, but here’s the deal. In exchange for the security of knowing their final costs going in, the client takes a gamble that they may get a deal on a complex case just like we take a gamble that we won’t wind up getting paid pennies on the dollar for our usual hourly rate by accepting a flat fee up front. We all have something at risk.”
She had a point, and Perry had to admit she had no experience with fee arrangements at all since she’d only ever worked for nonprofits representing people for free, using funds that had been donated for the cause. “How do you decide whether to agree to a flat fee versus hourly billing?”
“Experience mostly. Between the three of us, we’ve worked all kinds of cases and have a pretty good handle on what’s involved and when outcomes are predictable and when they aren’t. And sometimes, it boils down to the client’s comfort level.”
“Is Hadley a flat fee client?”
“Up until last year, Hadley had only worked with big firms, the last one being my old firm, who he believed took advantage of his lack of experience to milk his litigation for every dime they could. He came to us because he heard we employ creative approaches, tailored to each client we represent.” Grace shook a chip in her direction. “Which is where you come in. I want you to look at out of the box ways to represent Hadley Construction. Our goal is to get the case tossed out before it even gets set for trial, but if we’re forced to go forward, let’s find a way to reverse the first impression and show they’re indeed good corporate citizens who made an honest mistake. Do you think you can suppress your innate disdain for the company and apply your creative legal mind to the task at hand?”
Perry examined Grace’s words, searching for a sign Grace was messing with her, but her plea seemed sincere. Principles aside, she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to resist a request from Grace. Besides, it wasn’t like she was agreeing to add corporate defender to her résumé. This work was temporary and targeted, with the added bonus of allowing her to work closely with Grace. She looked into Grace’s eyes, and the earnest expression reflected there was the tipping point. She could do this one thing without fear of losing her integrity in the process. Right?
Chapter Nine
Grace read the short and sweet text from Abby and laughed. Birdie’s. Now. Put down the files and get your butt here.
She surveyed the contents of her desk. It would take hours to plow through the rest of the work she’d had planned for the day, and it was already six o’clock on Friday night. Since she was doomed to work on Saturday anyway, she might as well join the gang for happy hour and start fresh in the morning.
The office building was quiet as everyone else had already left for the day. Grace liked staying after hours, often getting her best work done in the absence of ringing phones and visiting clients, and as much as she enjoyed the camaraderie with Abby and Campbell, the quiet of the evening allowed her to focus. She walked through, making sure the lights were off, noticing a noise that sounded like the copier was running. She eased up to the war room and spied Perry standing in front of the copier but staring at a piece of paper in her hand and grinning like she’d found a long lost treasure map.
“You look way too happy for someone working on a Friday night,” Grace said.
Perry jumped. “Holy shit, Grace. You scared the crap out of me.”
“What’re you doing? Do you know what time it is?”
Perry shook her head. “Not really. I got a little lost in all of this.” She spread her hands to indicate the files piled on the table. “I found some good stuff. You want to sit down and I can walk you through it?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I mean, yes, I want you to walk me through it, but not here. Grab your stuff.” She rolled her arm to signal Perry to hurry. “Come on, let’s go out.”
“Really?”
Grace heard the hint of suggestion in Perry’s tone and realized her mistake right away. She rushed to correct the misimpression. “I meant we have a firm meeting to get to.”
Perry held her gaze for a moment before her eyes dropped to the file in her hand. “You know, since I’m not actually part of the firm, I’m good. I think I’ll stick around here and work a while longer.”
Grace reached over and grabbed the file. “Partner privilege. You’re done for the night. This meeting is really important. Come on.”
Perry finally acquiesced and followed her out of the office to the Armada. She watched while Perry made a big show about how much effort it took to climb inside. “You should quit making fun of me. This car is extremely safe and handles like a champ.”
“This car is a gas guzzler and safety is relative. I bet you could run over a family of four and never even feel it. If you don’t tip over first.”
Grace laughed. “Were you always this uptight?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. I have fond memories of a rough-and-tumble kid who was completely fearless. Now you’re sitting there talking about safety like a little old lady. It’s like you’re twenty-five, going on eighty.”
“Again, I ask, me? Because you’re the most conservative person I know.”
“I hope you mean conservative with a little c, not a big one, because that particular C word is a fighting word.” She waited for Perry’s nod. “Yes, when it comes to finances and the rest of the firm operation, I’m careful and steady, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fun. Whose idea was it to ride through the streets of London in pursuit of gin?”
“You have a point. Where is this meeting we’re headed to?”
Grace turned the car into the parking lot at Birdie’s. “More evidence that I can be fun. It’s Friday and we’re here for happy hour. Drinks on the firm, because Abby had a big win in a case today which you would know if you’d emerged from the war room at any point.”
She locked arms with Perry and led her into the bar where Abby, Roxanne, Wynne, and Campbell were already seated around a large table. “Look who I found holed up in the back room. This kid needs a drink.” She felt Perry flinch slightly, but when she met her eyes, she couldn’t read her expression. Disappointment, maybe? As fast as she saw the emotion, it was gone. “What’s your pleasure?”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having, but I’ll get it. You go sit down.”
“Manhattan with Bulleit. There should be a tab going.”
Grace watched as Perry sauntered to the bar. Perry was only a few feet away before Grace noticed she wasn’t the only one watching. At least half a dozen other women in the bar had their eyes on Perry’s trim figure as she cut through the crowd, and Grace wanted to shout at them all to quit ogling her best friend’s little sister. She didn’t though, mostly because she had a feeling her desire to shout was about something other than being protective, a feeling she quickly buried.
* * *
Perry edged her way through the crowd toward the bar, smiling at several women along the way who’d clearly noticed she was new to this bar scene. The bartender was a broad-shouldered brunette with close-cropped hair who crossed her arms and looked down on her with a stern expression. “ID,” she said.
“What if all I want is soda with lime?” Perry asked.
“Is that all you want?”
“Uh, no.” Perry instinctively reached for her wallet before she remembered her only ID was her temporary passport and it was sitting on the dresser in the guest room at Campbell’s place. She made a mental note to get a new driver’s license.
“It’s okay, Birdie, she’s with me.”
Perry looked over her shoulder to find Campbell standing behind her. “Look, it’s Campbell to the rescue. Again.” She turned back to Birdie and placed an order for two Manhattans.
“Since when do you
drink Manhattans?” Campbell asked.
“Since when did you start monitoring my choice of beverage?” Birdie showed up right then with the Manhattans in thick, substantial whiskey glasses Perry knew Grace would appreciate. She reached into her pocket, but Campbell put a hand on her arm.
“I got it. We have a tab.”
Perry pulled out some bills. “Fine, but do I have your permission to tip the bartender?”
Campbell frowned. “What’s up with you? And what’s up with the rescue and permission remarks?”
Perry took the drinks from Birdie who nodded in appreciation of the large tip and jerked her chin at an open spot a few feet away. Perry set the drinks down on the table and faced Campbell. “I didn’t realize I was coming to happy hour.”
“Perry, you’re not making any sense. What are you trying to say?”
She started to answer but stopped when she realized Campbell was right. She wasn’t making any sense, and she took a minute to boil down her feelings. It was bad enough being carded at the bar, but having to be rescued by your big sister when you were trying to buy drinks for your junior high crush was an unfair add-on. And to top it all off, she wouldn’t even be in Austin if Campbell hadn’t sent Grace on Mission Rescue Perry and persuade her to come home. With the added pressure to stick around for the wedding, it felt like the walls were closing in. She wanted to snap at Campbell, but the impulse felt self-indulgent.
“Grace kind of roped me into coming out tonight,” Perry said. “She said we were going to a meeting. If I’d known you were all just hanging out, I probably would’ve stayed at the office or gone home to catch up on some reading.”
“Hello, who are you? So, now you’re not only against corporations, you’re against the idea of burning off a little steam after a hard week’s work? Abby had a big win today and we’re here to raise a glass. We were trying to include you. Would it kill you to act like you enjoy our company for a little while?”
Perry knew she was being a jerk, but her instinct was to dig in. She counted out a few silent seconds to adjust her mindset. Campbell was right. They had every right to celebrate a win, even if it probably meant the little guy had gotten screwed over in favor of Abby’s client. And she had no idea why she suddenly felt like she was coming out of her skin, but the desire to run was persistent and urgent. She focused her energy on resisting the impulse. “Sorry. I haven’t had to be social in a while, so I’m rusty. I should get Grace’s drink to her before the ice melts.” She picked up the glasses and started to walk back toward their table. She was only a few steps in when she froze at the sight of the woman from the plane. The one who’d flirted mercilessly with Grace, and who was in the process of a redo at the very table where they were headed, and Perry barely resisted the desire to hurl the contents of her glass at the interloper.
* * *
“So, what’s she like?” Abby asked.
“I decided not to call her, so let it go, Abby.”
“Call her?” Abby frowned. “Who are you talking about?”
“Danika. Who are you talking about?” Grace asked.
“Perry. Campbell’s little sister, but if you’d like to talk about the mysterious woman you met on the plane, feel free to dish.”
“Abby, leave her be.” Roxanne placed a hand on Abby’s arm.
“It’s okay, Roxanne,” Grace said. “Danika is not mysterious. She’s just a person and she lives in Austin. I called her and left a message earlier today, but I haven’t heard back.”
“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Grace,” Abby said. “Not everyone checks their voice mail.” She pointed at Grace’s phone lying on the table. “You should text her and invite her to join us.”
“We’ve had this conversation. And I’m not going to become a text-stalker. She’s a grown-up woman with lots of responsibilities. I’m sure she’ll check her phone messages at some point. I’m not in any hurry.”
“Speaking of grown-up women, how’s it working with the exact opposite?” Abby asked. “Perry giving you any trouble?”
Grace instinctively glanced across the room where Perry stood at the bar talking to Campbell. There was a time she wouldn’t have been able to imagine Perry as anything but a skinny, insecure tomboy, but now she was a striking young woman who commanded the space she occupied with sass and confidence. Her lack of convention in dress, in career choice, in the spiky way she wore her hair, might cause most people to write her off as just a kid, but Grace suspected there was a lot more maturity there than anyone suspected. She looked back at Abby. “She’s plenty grown-up.”
“Okay,” Abby said, stringing out the word, “but I asked if you liked working with her.”
Grace focused on ignoring Abby’s intense stare. “Perry. Sure. It’s okay.”
“It’s kind of weird seeing her looking all adult. Last time I saw her was at our graduation and she still looked like a little kid.”
Grace fished around for a memory of that day. Her parents had both been in attendance not only to support her, but because her father had been asked to give the commencement address. She was used to his presence drawing most of the attention in the room, but on that day in particular—her special day—all the focus on him had rubbed her the wrong way. She’d left the room right after the ceremony ended to get some air and ran into Perry who was standing outside, looking like she was headed to a dive bar.
“Aren’t you supposed to be inside celebrating?” Perry asked.
Grace sighed. “It’s a little stuffy in there.”
“Word. I mean if you plan on ruling the world, there’s a lot of inspiration but not much for people who just want to do their small part to make it a better place. All those new lawyers fawning over your dad and I bet most of them barely heard a word he said.”
Grace reflected on the content of her father’s speech. Like most of his speeches, it was inspiring, and he’d issued a call for her classmates to use their new skills and apply them to public service, to help those less fortunate. She agreed with the charitable sentiment, but after three years of hard work, she was ready to enjoy the spoils of her success. Like most of the top ten percent of her class, she was going to a top-tier firm, but it was clear from Perry’s tone, they didn’t share an opinion on the definition of success. “Is there something wrong with wanting to rule the world?”
Perry kicked at a pebble with the toe of her sneaker. “Other than the fact that by definition, not everyone can do it? It’s a zero-sum game. There are like four hundred new lawyers in that room. You think there’s room at the top for all of them? The scramble to the top will be like crabs in a bucket—most people are going to get crushed under the weight of other people’s desires. Why not redefine success and help each other out instead of using other people as stepping-stones to get to the top?”
“Because someone has to be in charge, to lead.” Grace felt the tinny inauthenticity of her response even as she spoke the words, but she pressed on. “Otherwise, we just have chaos and anarchy.”
Perry shrugged like she didn’t care, but the expression in her eyes was sympathetic, like she saw something in Grace that Grace couldn’t possibly see. “If you say so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” The sympathy and the brush-off got under Grace’s skin.
Perry smiled. “Don’t mind me. I’m just doing my usual bit of challenging the patriarchy.” She linked arms with Grace. “You should get back in there and celebrate.”
She led the way back into the hall and Grace followed, full of more questions than answers.
“She’s always been a bit wiser than the rest of us. I think losing their parents when she was so young affected her even more than it did Campbell and Justin. Don’t get me wrong, they were both great role models, but I think Perry felt she had to find her own way.” She reflected on Perry’s sense of style, her rebellious nature. “And she has.”
“She’s definitely taken on more weighty cases than I had at her age,” Wynne said. “That journalist in Cr
imea she was representing was facing hard time simply for writing a blog.”
“I’m thinking his blog wasn’t about weddings,” Roxanne said, prompting a bout of laughter from the group.
Grace lifted her water glass and took a sip of her drink. She’d been working so hard lately, this respite was a nice change of scene and there was no better group of people to unwind with than these women.
“Don’t look now,” Abby said, shoving her in the arm. “But that woman over there is checking you out.”
“You realize that saying ‘don’t look now’ only makes a person want to look, right?”
“Don’t be that person. She’s headed this way. Tall, blonde, Abba meets Charlize Theron.”
Could it be? Grace ignored Abby’s admonition and turned in her seat just in time to catch Danika smiling at her as she stepped closer. She returned the smile, hesitantly at first, but then she glanced over at the bar and saw Perry engaged in conversation with Campbell, apparently unaware the Swede had made an appearance, and she smiled with more confidence.
“Hello, Manhattan, nice to see you on the ground this time,” Danika said.
Grace stood to avoid feeling like Danika was towering over her, and Perry’s words about power flooded back into her mind until she brushed them away. This wasn’t that. “Hello, Margarita, nice to see you too.”