Big Law

by Lindsay Cameron

  Ben’s wife, Katrina, was easy to spot. She was the petite, blue-eyed blonde floating through the crowd with a blinding amount of diamonds around her wrist and neck, talking a little louder than everyone else. Her tanned skin was flawless and perfectly set off by her white, flowing linen dress. She’d be the first to tell you she was from a prominent Russian family and clearly embraced her roots in her home decorating. Large, gilded arm chairs and ornate tables were proudly displayed in the foyer, but didn’t really mesh with the exterior of the house. Clearly their decorating plan was simply “anything expensive and showy” rather than one particular style. The party was meant to impress us, but, even though I couldn’t put my finger on it, there just seemed something a little tacky about the whole thing. Did we really need to be taken on a tour of Ben’s luxury goods? And be forced to listen to the silly reasons for each purchase? I mean, he actually told us he bought a piece of art for three hundred thousand dollars just so he could out-bid George Soros at the Sotheby’s auction.

  Of course, just when I thought the party couldn’t get any more over the top, our attention was directed towards the foyer where a five-piece mariachi band descended down the grand staircase, singing and playing their large stringed instruments, making the whole setting unquestionably one of the most bizarre firm events I’d witnessed. A mariachi band. For a dinner party. As if a further element of absurdity needed to be added to the whole situation.

  The mariachi band continued to play throughout dinner as we feasted on lobster ceviche and braised short ribs. I sat two seats away from Katrina, who downed red sangria like it was water and regaled the table with stories of their extravagant vacations.

  “’Scuse me please, but it’s time to kick this up a notch,” she slurred to the table midway through dinner and stumbled towards the band. We all turned to see what would happen next as she grabbed a microphone and started to sing. And by sing, I mean rolling her tongue and shrieking, “Ya ka ka ka ka” while clapping to the rhythm and swinging her hips. The members of the band looked puzzled, but kept playing. She dropped the microphone and stumbled back and forth attempting to dance with one of the band members. Finally, the train wreck ended and she returned to the table and fell into her chair.

  “Ben just hates it when I sing,” she announced to no one in particular. “But Ben hates just about everything I do, don’t you, Benny?” She patted his face a little too hard. Ben just sat there stiffly, clenching his teeth together like his jaw was wired shut. “Awww … now I’m being ignored.” Her lower lip dropped into a pout.

  “Nothing a little Xanax can’t fix though, right, sweetie?” She laughed and swilled back more of her drink.

  I can personally attest to the fact that nothing kills a dinner party faster than the hostess talking about her happy pills. We were ushered to our coats just as she was breaking out in song again. After that night I couldn’t look at Ben without thinking of his medicated wife and his pajama outfit. Now here I was, in Hugh Hefner’s office.

  “Okay,” Ben started, looking down at his clasped hands. “I just got off the phone with a new client and we’ve been given the go ahead to start work on their latest acquisition. And it’s a big one. Big.” He looked around the room significantly. “We’ve been retained by Pegasus Partners, the private equity firm that made headlines last year for their unfortunate foray into the arms manufacturing business. The bad publicity cost them two major investors.”

  I looked up from my notepad as though this wasn’t news to me.

  “Pegasus has decided to target Highlander Hotels and Resorts, hoping that a move into the more PR friendly hotel industry will scrub their image,” Ben went on. “They reached a handshake deal last night. We’re looking at a purchase price well north of seven billion.” He raised his eyebrows. “Now we’ve got to do the diligence and paper the deal. They want a fully signed purchase agreement by the end of February and the deal closed by the end of May.”

  I felt a bubble of dismay growing inside. Taking a multibillion dollar acquisition from a handshake to a fully signed purchase agreement typically took over six months. We had four. Couldn’t I just give him my thoughts on Jamba Juice Fridays and call it a day?

  “Mackenzie, set a kick-off meeting for today at two.”

  I nodded, scribbling orders on my notepad.

  “Any questions?” Ben asked, clearly expecting none.

  The room fell silent.

  “Great.” Ben smiled. “Pegasus usually uses Skadden for their M&A work, so if we bring this one home it could mean a lot more work for us from these guys.” Ben pushed back his chair and stood. The rest of us followed suit.

  “Oh, Mackenzie, hang back for a second. The rest of you can go.” He dismissed the first years with a curt nod of his head.

  I stood awkwardly, not knowing if I should sit back down. I noticed Patrick turn and give me a look on his way out that said, Better you than me.

  Ben waited for them to scurry out of the office before fixing his eyes on me, “Mackenzie, I’m sure you realize what a privilege it is for a second year associate to be entrusted with this deal. Your efforts on Maxwell’s deal didn’t go unnoticed and Maxwell is a hard guy to please. It’s not easy for an associate to stand out at F&D. There’s a lot of driven and smart associates here. That’s a given.” He hesitated. “Those who distinguish themselves in my eyes go above and beyond. Do you understand what I’m saying here?”

  I nodded, not entirely sure I did.

  “Good.” He folded his arms over his chest and rocked back on his heels. “Then I’m sure you know that I’m the partner responsible for picking the associate that lands the StarCorp secondment.”

  My pulse quickened. Every year the firm selected one mid-level associate to work for the firm’s largest client, StarCorp Investments, for six months. Not only does the lucky associate get an opportunity to work on the business side, gaining valuable experience, but the hours were far less demanding, essentially amounting to a six month break from the grind of Biglaw. It was the most sought after reward for a corporate associate at F&D and landing it was essentially a declaration that you were on partnership track. Every associate that has been selected for the plum position has gone on to make partner. Every single one. And the last three associates that had been graced with the opportunity made partner a year earlier than expected.

  “So.” Ben blew out a long breath of air. “This deal isn’t just an opportunity for the firm, but an amazing opportunity for you as well. I’m a good guy to impress.” He grinned, ensuring we were now both in on the same secret.

  “Of course,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You can count on me, Ben.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less. This one is going to require a Herculean effort from you and your team, but I’m sure you’re up to the task.”

  “Absolutely,” I said with more certainty than I felt.

  Walking back to my office, a whir of emotions was spinning inside me. If I performed well on this deal, I was basically guaranteed the StarCorp secondment. Just thinking about it made me feel like I was levitating from elation. And being involved in an acquisition of this magnitude would definitely bring accolades. I always got a major adrenaline rush whenever my name made the list in New York Law Journal’s “Lawyers Working on Billion Dollar Deals.” The first time my name appeared, I’d cut out the article and sent it to Mom and Dad, eager to show off my newfound celebrity status. Mom put it in the scrapbook, which was mostly populated with articles showcasing Margaret’s athletic achievements. “And your name is in bold!” Mom had cooed.

  But, being handed the opportunity to work on this deal also came with the tremendous responsibility not to screw it up. I didn’t even want to imagine what would happen if I didn’t perform to Ben’s standards. His Herculean standards.

  “Well?” Sadir called out when I entered the office.

  I leaned against the wall, my head still spinning. “You know, when you didn’t have the inside track on a big deal bein
g staffed by Ben I really did think that it might be something as benign as the associates committee.”

  “Yeah, sorry about lying to you, Mackenzie.” He nodded somberly. “I already heard through the grapevine that Ben was staffing a monster deal. I just had to give you some hope, though. It’s like putting a blindfold over someone’s eyes before they’re about to be executed,” he explained. “You just have to do that for a person. It’s the humane thing to do.”

  I snickered and flopped down in my chair. “He did say it was an honor to be put on this deal—a reward for earlier work.”

  “Well, welcome to the pie eating contest … where the only prize is more pie.”

  4

  I FUMBLED WITH MY pad of paper and nervously entered conference room 23A—the largest one in the office, usually reserved for impressing clients. The last time I was here was for the “coffee taste test party” when I was a summer associate. The events coordinator had lined up ten types of coffee from around the world, including a rare bean flown in from the Coffee Expo that retailed for $80 a cup. A coffee sommelier walked us through the different types as we sipped samples and munched on pastries from Payard. But the only offerings today were thermoses of Starbucks and pastries from the cafeteria.

  Anxiously tugging at the hem of my skirt, I took a deep breath as my body flooded with adrenaline. When Ben told me to attend the kick-off meeting I’d nodded dutifully, hoping he wouldn’t notice the flush creeping across my neck. Normally only partners or senior associates attend kick-off meetings, so for Ben to bestow the honor on a mid-level associate was unusual. It felt like an invitation to the inner circle of F&D royalty, sending my heart rate sky high.

  Senior associates from all practice groups buzzed anxiously around the overgrown mahogany table running the length of the room with leather chairs tucked neatly under it. Knowing there wouldn’t be enough seats for everyone, I perched on a credenza off to the side—it was career suicide to do otherwise. The most senior lawyers get the seats. Always. I’ve seen women so pregnant they look ready to pop standing, not wanting to break this unspoken code of conduct. Even the order of email addresses in a CC line of an email is supposed to be arranged according to seniority, starting with the most senior partner and ending with the most junior associate. Some partners won’t even read emails if their name isn’t in the pole position.

  The air felt charged with power and influence. The grandness of the room, with its wall-to-wall windows, the imposing Empire State Building looming in the distance, and the grey suits practically oozing testosterone, gave me the sense that I’d just stepped onto the set of Wall Street. At any minute Gordon Gekko would appear and announce, “Greed is good.”

  Sitting here (okay, perched here) I felt like I’d made it to the big leagues. I could almost hear Carly Simon’s “Let the River Run,” playing, while I stood in my corner office, smiling triumphantly. Despite being a small cog in a big wheel, and even knowing that this deal would engulf my life, I couldn’t suppress my smile.

  Surreptitiously, I looked around the room. The key partners in every department were here. There was Ron Richards, head of the Labor and Employment Department and self-described “unions’ worst nightmare.” Alongside him stood Anthony Booth, head of the Real Estate Department, the oldest partner at sixty-seven, refusing retirement and leveraging his many loyal clients to prevent it. Steven Burrows, head of the Intellectual Property Department, was there too. He’d earned the nickname “Seven” because of an acceptance speech he gave during an awards dinner for The Top 40 Lawyers Under 40, announcing that his greatest accomplishment did not relate to his practice, but instead was when he engaged in all seven deadly sins in one day. Scott Kesler, head of the Environmental Law Department, had even made an appearance. He was responsible for figuring out how our clients could avoid any law enacted to protect the environment. Finally, there was Anton Waldorf, head of the Tax Department, best known around the firm for berating a pregnant associate, bringing her to tears and then telling her the tears were the reason the firm hated breeders. He was also one of the highest paid partners in the entire firm, which just reinforces the theory that there is an inverse relationship between money and mental stability.

  Numerous junior associates in other departments would learn their Friday night fate following this meeting. They would have to make the same call to their friends that I had to make an hour ago. Kim was disappointed I’d be missing out on 90’s movie trivia night, but I promised her I’d have six months of free evenings when I landed the StarCorp secondment.

  The collective breath of everyone in the conference room was held when Vincent Krieder swaggered in. If F&D had an organizational chart of partners, Vincent would be the box at the top. Not only was he a four corner partner in the corporate department, but Vincent was the grand poobah. The mere presence of Vincent in this meeting confirmed the tremendous importance of the deal to the firm.

  Vincent came up behind Ben, setting both hands on his shoulders for a three second massage. “Ready for this?” He took his seat at the head of the large table without waiting for an answer. “Welcome, gentlemen … ladies.” He looked around the room, taking us each in, his voice commanding immediate attention. “Happy Friday, everybody,” he added dryly. “This is a big one, guys … big.” He paused for effect. “You all know that Pegasus lost two key public pension investment funds when they purchased Lexington Group, the largest ammunition company in the country. It was —” He paused. “Well, let’s just call it unfortunate timing.”

  Heads nodded somberly all around. I’d learned from Google that two days after Pegasus had purchased the Lexington Group their bestselling assault rifle had been the weapon of choice in a mass shooting. To make matters worse, the Lexington Group took to Twitter and fired off a fairly objectionable tweet about the right to bear arms. It was a public relations disaster for Pegasus.

  “And now they need to scrub their image. The pension investment funds that invest large amounts of money in private equity funds like Pegasus have publicly stated they are going to pay closer attention to what their money is being used to purchase. Who the fuck knows why?” Vincent threw his hands up. A few chuckles ensued.

  “We need to negotiate and sign a binding purchase agreement with Highlander Hotels in time for Pegasus’s annual general meeting, which is February 28th so they can announce the acquisition to the investors. And they need the deal to close before their fiscal year ends, which is the end of May.”

  Partners around the table furrowed their brows.

  Vincent grasped his chin and thought for a moment. “Now, in terms of the client’s wants and their expectations—they said they WANT this deal to happen so I told them to EXPECT it to be expensive.” More chuckles. “In terms of what we actually know—it’s limited.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Anton Waldorf quipped, grabbing a strawberry Danish from the platter of shiny baked goods laid out for the meeting.

  Vincent gave Anton the finger. With so many egos in one room, it didn’t take long for the grandstanding to begin.

  “Okay, here is what we know, other than that Waldorf is an asshole.” He continued to fill us in on the details as I furiously scribbled notes.

  Vincent laid his palms flat against the conference room table and slowly slid them back and forth, a tiny smirk breaking across his face. “They want this, guys—let me be crystal clear about that. Cost is not an issue. If you are in the shower thinking about this deal, bill it. If you are away from your desk, but have a Highlander document on your computer screen, bill it.”

  “If you’re fucking your mistress in a Highlander Hotel, bill it,” Waldorf called out. I mentally rolled my eyes. The only shocking thing about his statement was how unshocked everyone in the room was.

  “You get the idea.” Vincent slapped the table and stood up. “Let’s get this done and our year is set.” With that, the big guns filed out of the room, leaving us peons to follow behind them.

  “Well, you look surpr
isingly happy for someone who just told me she’ll have no life for the next six months.” Jason entered my office and passed me a white plastic bag.

  “What’s this?” I peeked inside.

  “A chopped salad from Toasties and a black and white cookie,” he confirmed. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to make it out for lunch and I didn’t want you starving.”

  “How did you know that I was just debating whether the stale granola bar in my drawer could substitute for lunch?” I kicked off my shoes, crossed my legs in my chair, and began digging in.

  “Because I know how you get when you’re focused on something.” He grinned.

  I did have a tendency to throw myself into my tasks. Kim used to refer to me as “Rocky” when I would study for my final exams. “It’s like you disappear into the Russian mountains, training for weeks,” she’d teased. “And when you come back you have this crazy focus, like the Eye of the Tiger.” The description always made me laugh, but whenever I got an A I did picture myself at the top of the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, pumping my fists triumphantly.

  “You know me too well,” I replied, beaming.

  “And it’s because I know you so well that I can recognize that worried look in your eyes.” He wagged his finger at me. “The one you get when you think you’re in over your head. Trust me, you’re going to do an amazing job and Ben is going to be begging you to take that secondment. I mean, out of everyone he could’ve picked, Ben chose you to work on the biggest deal in the firm. I’d take that as a pretty good sign that you’re capable.” He gave me a quick wink. I’d always found winking cheesy, but Jason managed to do it in a way that was endearing.

  “Ben did sound pretty ominous about the work load with this one.” I chewed on the side of my fingernail. “He actually used the word ‘Herculean.’”

  Jason burst out laughing. “Ben sure has a flare for drama.”