Practice Makes Perfect
Page 23
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Nearly six years ago, getting lost while looking for the accounting floor, Payton had stumbled upon the law library (it wasn’t even included in the new associate tour anymore) and had been charmed by its quiet calm. It was an oasis of serenity amid the chaos and bustle of the firm’s other floors.
Truthfully, it was also pretty much the only place in the entire building to which an associate could escape without being called, emailed, beeped, sent for, paged, or otherwise hounded by ne’er-do-well partners trying to pawn off emergency TROs at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon. Not that Payton—the highly industrious associate she was—had ever personally utilized the library for such nefarious purposes. She could just surmise that the library would be great for hiding out, if one so happened to be inclined.
Payton burst into the library, relieved to see that it was empty as always. She hurried past the librarian’s desk en route to her favorite “thinking” spot: the Archives shelves in the far back corner of the library.
“Hello, Agnes,” she said politely as she breezed by.
Agnes turned at the sound of Payton’s voice. Eighty years old if a day, the librarian’s vision wasn’t the greatest. She smiled and waved in the wrong direction, addressing the air.
“Hello, Ms. Kendall!” Agnes called out. “Come to practice another opening statement?” It was the excuse Payton had given her years ago, to explain what she did while hanging out by herself amongst the library stacks.
“I won’t be long today,” Payton said over her shoulder. She just needed a minute or two to collect herself. Ben’s news had come as a shock. All of her anger was bubbling up to the surface and if she didn’t get a moment to herself to calm down, she might explode.
Payton headed to the Archives section, and when she was safely tucked out of sight, she came to a stop. She leaned against the bookshelves and took a deep breath. And another.
Keep it together, she told herself. It wasn’t the end of the world. Yet. She still had a chance of making partner. She still—
Oh, hell. Before she could stop it, tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling. No, no, no, she would not do this. Not here, not now.
It was at that moment that Payton heard Agnes call out in greeting to someone else. She peered through the bookshelves and saw—shit!—J.D. standing at the entrance of the library. Payton watched as he headed over to Agnes’s desk, saying something she couldn’t hear.
Payton glanced around, hoping to spot another exit out of the stacks. She really couldn’t deal with J.D. right then. Unfortunately, there was no other way out. Peering through the books, she saw Agnes point to the Archives section where she was hiding. J.D. nodded, then began walking straight toward her.
Payton quickly brushed away the tears from her eyes, praying that her mascara wasn’t smudged. She needed a cover—fast. She saw a nearby step stool and climbed up. She grabbed the first book she saw off the shelf and cracked it open just as J.D. rounded the corner.
“Payton,” he said.
She feigned disinterest, peering up from her book. “Doing a little research, J.D.?”
“Of course not,” he said. “And neither are you. I followed you here.” He glanced around. “Strange—I thought this was an accounting floor.”
Payton climbed down from the step stool, still striving for nonchalance. “You followed me here? Any particular reason?”
J.D. seemed embarrassed by the question. “I saw you run out of your office. After our meeting with Ben, I thought that maybe you, well . . .” he trailed off awkwardly.
Great, Payton realized. Exactly what she needed—J.D.’s pity. She suddenly felt tears threatening once again.
“I’m fine,” Payton said, turning her back to him. “Really.”
She felt J.D.’s hand on her shoulder. “Don’t do this, Payton,” he said in a soft voice.
It was too much, hearing J.D. speak like that. She needed to make him stop. She forced herself to look indifferent as she turned around. “What do you want, J.D.? Because I was thinking, for once, that maybe you could just back off.”
J.D.’s face hardened at her words, which unfortunately had come out sounding harsher than she’d meant them to.
He pulled back and folded his arms over his chest. “Well, somebody sure seems a little tense. You wouldn’t be worried about this decision, would you?”
Payton feigned confidence. “No.”
“No?”
She raised her chin stubbornly. “No.”
A look of worry crossed J.D.’s face. “You know already,” he stated woodenly. “You know they’re going to choose you.”
“I know that if the firm goes by merit, they’ll pick me,” Payton said.
J.D. narrowed the gap between them in one stride. “You really think you’re that much better than me?”
Payton stood her ground. “Yes.”
His eyes narrowed. “Please—if the firm picks you, we both know the reason.”
Payton smirked at this. “What reason is that? My ‘girls’?”
J.D. shrugged. “You said it.”
“Bullshit,” Payton said. “You, Ben, and pretty much every other man at this firm are all one big team—you all went to the same Ivy League schools; you’re all members of the same country clubs. And tell me, J.D.—how many of Daddy’s CEO friends did you promise you could bring in as clients? I bet the members of the Partnership Committee are just foaming at the mouth at the thought of the money you’ll bring in with your connections. Or your father’s connections, I should say.”
Truthfully, it was also pretty much the only place in the entire building to which an associate could escape without being called, emailed, beeped, sent for, paged, or otherwise hounded by ne’er-do-well partners trying to pawn off emergency TROs at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon. Not that Payton—the highly industrious associate she was—had ever personally utilized the library for such nefarious purposes. She could just surmise that the library would be great for hiding out, if one so happened to be inclined.
Payton burst into the library, relieved to see that it was empty as always. She hurried past the librarian’s desk en route to her favorite “thinking” spot: the Archives shelves in the far back corner of the library.
“Hello, Agnes,” she said politely as she breezed by.
Agnes turned at the sound of Payton’s voice. Eighty years old if a day, the librarian’s vision wasn’t the greatest. She smiled and waved in the wrong direction, addressing the air.
“Hello, Ms. Kendall!” Agnes called out. “Come to practice another opening statement?” It was the excuse Payton had given her years ago, to explain what she did while hanging out by herself amongst the library stacks.
“I won’t be long today,” Payton said over her shoulder. She just needed a minute or two to collect herself. Ben’s news had come as a shock. All of her anger was bubbling up to the surface and if she didn’t get a moment to herself to calm down, she might explode.
Payton headed to the Archives section, and when she was safely tucked out of sight, she came to a stop. She leaned against the bookshelves and took a deep breath. And another.
Keep it together, she told herself. It wasn’t the end of the world. Yet. She still had a chance of making partner. She still—
Oh, hell. Before she could stop it, tears of frustration welled up in her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling. No, no, no, she would not do this. Not here, not now.
It was at that moment that Payton heard Agnes call out in greeting to someone else. She peered through the bookshelves and saw—shit!—J.D. standing at the entrance of the library. Payton watched as he headed over to Agnes’s desk, saying something she couldn’t hear.
Payton glanced around, hoping to spot another exit out of the stacks. She really couldn’t deal with J.D. right then. Unfortunately, there was no other way out. Peering through the books, she saw Agnes point to the Archives section where she was hiding. J.D. nodded, then began walking straight toward her.
Payton quickly brushed away the tears from her eyes, praying that her mascara wasn’t smudged. She needed a cover—fast. She saw a nearby step stool and climbed up. She grabbed the first book she saw off the shelf and cracked it open just as J.D. rounded the corner.
“Payton,” he said.
She feigned disinterest, peering up from her book. “Doing a little research, J.D.?”
“Of course not,” he said. “And neither are you. I followed you here.” He glanced around. “Strange—I thought this was an accounting floor.”
Payton climbed down from the step stool, still striving for nonchalance. “You followed me here? Any particular reason?”
J.D. seemed embarrassed by the question. “I saw you run out of your office. After our meeting with Ben, I thought that maybe you, well . . .” he trailed off awkwardly.
Great, Payton realized. Exactly what she needed—J.D.’s pity. She suddenly felt tears threatening once again.
“I’m fine,” Payton said, turning her back to him. “Really.”
She felt J.D.’s hand on her shoulder. “Don’t do this, Payton,” he said in a soft voice.
It was too much, hearing J.D. speak like that. She needed to make him stop. She forced herself to look indifferent as she turned around. “What do you want, J.D.? Because I was thinking, for once, that maybe you could just back off.”
J.D.’s face hardened at her words, which unfortunately had come out sounding harsher than she’d meant them to.
He pulled back and folded his arms over his chest. “Well, somebody sure seems a little tense. You wouldn’t be worried about this decision, would you?”
Payton feigned confidence. “No.”
“No?”
She raised her chin stubbornly. “No.”
A look of worry crossed J.D.’s face. “You know already,” he stated woodenly. “You know they’re going to choose you.”
“I know that if the firm goes by merit, they’ll pick me,” Payton said.
J.D. narrowed the gap between them in one stride. “You really think you’re that much better than me?”
Payton stood her ground. “Yes.”
His eyes narrowed. “Please—if the firm picks you, we both know the reason.”
Payton smirked at this. “What reason is that? My ‘girls’?”
J.D. shrugged. “You said it.”
“Bullshit,” Payton said. “You, Ben, and pretty much every other man at this firm are all one big team—you all went to the same Ivy League schools; you’re all members of the same country clubs. And tell me, J.D.—how many of Daddy’s CEO friends did you promise you could bring in as clients? I bet the members of the Partnership Committee are just foaming at the mouth at the thought of the money you’ll bring in with your connections. Or your father’s connections, I should say.”
