揧ou抮e thinking about shoes again, aren抰 you??whispers Terri.
I give her a sidelong glance. 揥hat else would I think about??
揧ou抮e young and gorgeous. You should be thinking about a hot guy walking out of your shower.?
揥hat hot guy? There certainly aren抰 any here.?
Her eyes flicker toward Ben, but she knows better than to suggest him to me.
揅hris Hemsworth,?she replies, and I laugh quietly.
The statistical probability of Chris Hemsworth walking out of my shower is almost zero, and if it were to happen, I know exactly how it would end, because every attempt at a relationship since Kyle has ended in the exact same way: with him accusing me of being 慸ead inside?or obsessed with work, which is what men say if you work harder than they do. Unlike shoes, which just exist to cradle you in their green suede bosom.
揅are to share the conversation??Debbie snaps at the two of us.
揥e were talking about Sharpies, for labeling the food,?I reply smoothly. 揑 just asked Terri to order some.?
揑t抯 weird, then,?says Ben, eyes glinting with malice, 搕hat she抎 respond by saying Chris Hemsworth.?
For a single moment I picture whipping one of my heels across the table梙is cry of pain, the brief triumph I抎 feel before I remember I抳e done this in front of the most litigious people in LA.
Fortunately, Arvin Fields, managing partner, enters the room before I can act. Arvin is approximately one million years old, but shows no signs of retiring, and he抯 still younger than McGovern, who likely remembers voting for John Adams in our nation抯 third election.
揂s you know,?he begins, 搕here are changes coming.?His speech is gratingly slow, which isn抰 a product of age but more a tactic to wind us all up. He likes his underlings to be like a swarm of angry bees, fighting for dominance, stinging anything in their path.
Which is why Ben and I have both done well here. We were already angry bees when we arrived.
揂t the end of this year, two of our partners will be retiring.?I sit up straighter. The announcement. 揥e抮e hoping one of you can step up to the plate.?
My head jerks. 揙ne??I ask, my voice sharper than I抎 like.
揓ust one. Over the past decade, we抳e seen a lot less work from certain sectors, and it抯 cut into our profits. We抣l be watching you very closely this winter, so may the best man, or woman, win.?
It feels like someone just put a hole in my lungs and all the air is escaping. I deserve to make partner, and instead of just giving it to me like they should, they抮e going to turn it into a fucking competition. One Ben will go out of his way to make sure I lose.
My phone vibrates in my lap and I glance at it.
Ben: Uh oh :-（ Sorry about the bad news.
God, I hate him so much. He has my number thanks to the company directory. He抯 only used it abusively, thus far. As I have, in turn.
Me: Bad news for whom?
Ben: I thought that was obvious. It抣l be fun watching you on your best behavior for a few months, though.
Me: Best behavior? The standards here are pretty low. As long as I抦 not caught in the bathroom with a client抯 spouse, I should be in the clear.
Ben had a little incident at his first holiday party with FMG, during which he got caught with a client抯 drunk wife. It抯 the only thing he抯 ever seemed embarrassed about.
I try to reference it whenever possible, obviously.
That devil in my chest is cackling maniacally while Ben reads the text, but he merely leans back in his seat, a casual smile on his generous mouth, eyes gleaming behind absurdly thick lashes.
Ben: You sure bring that up a lot. It抯 almost like you wish it was you.
The skin on my neck tingles, as if he抯 whispered those words in my ear梙is voice soft as velvet, dark as the grave. I turn my phone facedown, ending the conversation. I wonder if I can report him, but as I go over what was said, I realize it doesn抰 make me look great either.
Whatever.
I抦 about to be FMG抯 first female partner, at which point I will begin crushing the boys?club here under my very expensive heels. And Ben Tate is where I抣l start.
3
My father calls more often than I抎 like, which is to say he still calls on occasion when I wish he抎 drop off the face of the Earth. He抯 a man who always wants something from you, a man incapable of a genuine gesture. If he gives you a gift, a smile, a compliment卹est assured he is about to ask for far more in exchange.
What he wants, always, is my time and attention. None of this is done out of love梚t抯 simply his innate need to win at all costs. He still wants to win a divorce that took place nearly fifteen years ago, during which he stole everything from my mom but custody of me, and then he came back and stole that too.