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Dream On(76)

Author:Angie Hockman

“So here’s some straight talk for you,” she says as she pours herself some coffee. “Don’t stay with Devin just because you believe you owe it to him, the universe, fate, or whatever. Sure, I think you guys are good together, and from what I can tell, he’s a catch, but if your gut says otherwise… you should listen.”

The happiness extinguishes from my heart, a sour, crumpled-up feeling taking its place. How Brie always manages to see through me straight to the core of my problems is a mystery to me, and right now, not entirely wanted. “I know.” Scooping up my plate, I scrape my half-eaten breakfast into the trash; my appetite has abandoned me. “I should finish getting ready for work. Have a good day, all right?”

“You too,” she calls back, but I’m already in the living room. Stomach hollow, I trudge up the stairs back to my bedroom.

Too bad giving advice is a lot easier than taking it.

* * *

“Are there any further questions?” The dozen other summer associates gaze attentively at Glenn Boone, who’s standing at the front of the conference room next to one of the firm’s junior partners, a brunette wearing a no-nonsense expression and a gray power suit. Shifting in my seat, I recross my legs. Sweat has gathered at the back of my knee where it had rested for the last forty-five minutes against my chair’s pleather fabric. When no one raises their hand, Glenn nods. “All right. Thank you, Karen, for that fascinating presentation on the future of environmental justice legislation. Very enlightening.”

Applause fills the room. Tucking my pen into the notebook on my lap, I ignore the doodles I’ve made in the margins as I sweep it closed and join in. The woman shakes Glenn’s hand and leaves the room, briefcase tucked under an arm.

“Now—” Glenn claps his hands once. “Before you all run off to lunch, I’d like to remind you of the July Social coming up in a little more than a week from now, next Saturday the eighteenth. Thank you, Jeremey, for suggesting laser bowling. It sounds quite refreshing.”

The pinch-faced twentysomething across the table from me nods.

“The purpose of these monthly socials is to give you all a chance to relax, unwind, and mingle with Smith & Boone staff in a less formal setting. Since these events are an integral part of your summer associateship with the firm, I like them to be driven by the summer associates themselves. So far, we’ve only had one suggestion for the August Social, attending an Indians, I mean, Guardians, game—thank you for that idea, Bradley—and while that’s a fine thought, I’d like to hear from more of you before making a decision.

“You only have another six weeks left of the program, so we should end the summer with a bang. Please don’t forget to share your ideas with me no later than July 31. As an incentive, the person who submits the winning idea will receive a special gift from me.” Everyone sits up a little straighter. “Thank you,” Glenn concludes.

Closing my notebook, I push back from the oval conference table and stand. The rest of the summer associates are filing out of the room along with Glenn. When I turn around, I find myself face-to-face with Mercedes. Her red lips peel back from her gleaming white teeth. “Hey Cass, how’ve you been?” she asks.

“Hi. Good,” I say automatically, forcing myself not to put more space between us. I haven’t seen much of Mercedes this week since I switched into the public law group three days ago. She’s been working out of one of the conference rooms downstairs—probably on something far more interesting than anything I’ve encountered in my new assignment—while I’ve spent most of my time in our cubicle. “How about you?” I ask, despite myself.

“Ugh, so busy.” She flips her long sheet of strawberry-blond hair over one shoulder. “Andréa has me working on the Ervin case. I haven’t been able to leave the office before eight ever since we switched groups.” She sighs dramatically, as if the statement isn’t a humble-brag. “What are you working on?”

My nostrils flare, but I quickly smooth my expression. The Ervin case was supposed to be my case. Andréa had told me I’d be assisting with discovery… before she decided to swap me for Mercedes. Even if it’s just temporary and the reason is legit—to give us exposure to different areas of the law—it still stings.

I lift and lower one shoulder. “I just finished a memo on recent developments in eminent domain case law. Pretty complex stuff.” Not really, but I’m not about to admit that to Mercedes.

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