“I wasn’t sure ‘on the house’ was in an attorney’s vocabulary.”
“Shh. Don’t tell the bar he said them,” Jane whispers.
“I’ll keep it quiet.” She seems to be enjoying the banter—a good sign for business. “But I must know—does the carriage come with a footman?” she asks with a smile.
That smile is like a signature on the client roster. It tells me she has all the faith in the world in my firm, which is how I want her to feel.
That’s how I want all our clients to feel. Absolutely reassured.
“But of course,” I say, not sure where I’d find a footman but still playing along.
Geneva, though, gestures to the lift. “I like to walk in the spring. But thank you so much. I appreciate it.”
When she leaves, Jane gives me an approving nod. “Try to be a little less charming next time, dear.”
“That would be impossible.”
“I know,” she says with a wink.
“Also, you should try to call me Oliver.”
“I will, Ollie,” she says with a wave.
I return to my office, make a few initial calls to the other attorneys involved in Geneva’s business, then shoot her a quick email letting her know I’ve begun the work. I lean back in my office chair made of old tires. I had my doubts when Jane ordered it—finding recycled replacements is another passion of hers—but the chair is not only kinder to cows than leather, it turns out it’s also pleasant on the arse.
As I gaze out the window, I picture the deal coming together, imagining what it could do for this firm. How it could shoot us to another level, raise our profile, allow us to attract bigger clients and pay our staffers even more. It’s an enticing image, being able to provide for those in my employ while sticking it to her ex.
Well, not directly to her ex.
I simply have zero tolerance for bad legal advice.
And zero tolerance for lateness.
I grab my phone, lock up my office, and head out, chatting on the way with Jane about her weekend plans. No surprises—they involve snuggling cats, gardening, and reading the gossip blogs, much like they always do.
“Thank you again for the job, love.” She plants a kiss on my cheek. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be working for that wretched temp agency.”
“What? You didn’t like shuffling papers for bond traders who spent the day shouting into phones when not cursing and punching things?”
“Shockingly, I did not,” she says with a smile.
We say goodbye on the street, and I turn to walk uptown. As I reach the crosswalk, a text pops up.
Logan: Tomorrow night. Paintball. Be ready. I need you operating at 110%.
Oliver: Everything I do is at 110%.
Logan: That’s not what she said.
He rings. I pick up, faking an over-the-top laugh. “Haha. Never heard that from you before.”
“Listen, if you give me low-hanging fruit, I’m going to pluck it. But about paintball—” Logan wastes no time and minces no words. “I’ve got some new strategies to go over. We have to beat those fuckers at Lehman.”
His two speeds: intense and hyperintense. It’s my job to remind him of life’s niceties. “You do know the paintball league events are to raise money for charity, right? Not for obliterating other teams.”
“Yeah, sure, that’s awesome. That’s totally why I do it. But I also have to crush Lehman, and you know why.”
“Fair enough.” I do know he has his reasons. Perfectly valid ones. “But don’t worry. I’m brilliant at paintball, as you know.”
“Humble too.”
“Because humility is the trait you lead with as well?”
He scoffs. “Never. Anyway, I’ll email you and Fitz and the rest of the team the strategy guidelines later. I’m going to the boxing gym now. I’ve got to blow off some steam. Want to join me?”
As I walk up the avenue, I shake my head, though of course he can’t see me. “I know you can risk things like having an eye that looks like a meat pie or a nose that’s out of whack, being an ugly git already, but I can’t take those chances. What with this face and all.” I scrub a hand across my jaw as I stop at Sixtieth Street.
“Right,” he says, the word having about ten syllables. “You don’t want to risk your next appearance on Buzzfeed’s New York’s Most Eligible Bachelors.”
“Of course not. I’m hoping to make it five years in a row.”
“I cannot wait till the day you fall off that list,” he says, and I can hear that he’s practically salivating.
“They say all good things come to an end, but this one seems like it’ll last forever.”
“You’re telling me.”
“In any case, I’m almost at Melt My Heart to meet your sister.”
