Dream On(84)
The lobby is several degrees warmer than usual with all the summer associates plus another dozen or so attorneys milling around, and I unbutton my jacket. Glenn called us all here at noon to announce the time and location of tomorrow’s August Social, and it’s already ten minutes past the hour. He sure does love to wind us up.
One of the other summer associates, Bradley, elbows me in the arm. “Where do you think it’s going to be?”
Drumming my fingers against my thigh, I shrug. “My money’s on an escape room.” The idea of locking us all up together and requiring us to use our wits to get out seems exactly like the fun sort of “game” Glenn would enjoy. “Either that, or a casino night downtown.”
I overheard one of the other summer associates talking about how he suggested happy hour at Jack’s casino for our final social, which honestly doesn’t sound so bad. At least a casino night would be likely to start later in the day, closer to five or six, versus an escape room, which feels more like an afternoon activity—and would therefore cut into my festival time.
The elevators on the far side of the lobby open, and a hush falls over the crowded lobby as Glenn Boone steps out. Wobbling over to stand in front of the reception desk, Glenn clears his throat. “Hello, everyone,” he begins. “I’m sure you’re all anxious to know where we’re going tomorrow for our last summer associate social. Thank you for blocking such a wide time frame on your calendars, by the way. Until yesterday I was considering two possibilities, and after discussing it with the other partners this morning, I’ve made a decision.”
General murmurs filter through the lobby.
“Casino night. Please say casino night,” Bradley chants under his breath.
Glenn pumps his arms for silence. “But before I reveal the surprise, I promised a gift to the person who made the winning suggestion.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Andréa Miller, come on up.”
A smattering of applause accompanies Andréa’s clacking heels as she strides over to Glenn. He pulls a small, flat box from the inside of his suit and holds it out to her. Grinning, she takes it from him, opens the lid, and holds the box up for all to see. Inside, what looks like a very fancy pen winks in the overhead lights.
“Would you like to tell them where we’re going tomorrow, Andréa?” Glenn asks her.
“Absolutely. But first, I have a confession. The idea I submitted for the social wasn’t originally mine. One of our summer associates told me about it earlier this week. I thought it sounded perfect, so without her mentioning it to me, I never would have shared it with you. So, Glenn, if it’s all right with you, I’d like her to have the prize.”
Glenn’s jowls wobble as he nods slowly. “How magnanimous. Which summer associate can we thank then?”
“Mercedes Trowbridge,” she announces. “Come on up, Mercedes.”
Mercedes’s smile is blinding when she reaches Andréa and Glenn, and I force myself to clap along with the rest of our colleagues as she takes the pen from Andréa. When her gaze drifts to me, rather than her usual smirk or extra show of teeth, her shoulders tense and her smile falters. My spine prickles with unease.
“Don’t keep us in suspense, Andréa. Where are we going?” Frank calls genially, and several of the other attorneys laugh.
“Mercedes, would you like to do the honors?” Andréa asks.
“No, you go ahead,” she demurs.
I blink. Since when has Mercedes ever turned down an opportunity to be in the spotlight?
“Okay then.” Andréa claps. “Tomorrow, we’re celebrating community. The community we’ve built at the firm over the past three months with our group of talented up-and-coming summer associates, and the community in which we work—Ohio City.”
My unease morphs into full-blown panic as a creeping, unavoidable suspicion settles into place.
“To celebrate and support those communities, we’re attending a festival in our very own neighborhood hosted by a local, family owned flower shop that’s been in operation for three generations. There will be food, music, beer, and, of course, flowers, for anyone looking to beautify their living space or make a loved one smile. We’ll meet tomorrow at Twenty-Eighth and Providence at noon, where everyone will be provided with lunch and two free drink tickets, courtesy of the firm. So get ready: we’re going to the Ohio City Flower & Beer Festival!”
* * *
My mouth is still hanging open when the first group of people file into the elevators to return to their offices.
I’m going to the Flower & Beer Festival. Tomorrow. At noon. With everyone from work, including my boss and managing partner.
My heartbeat accelerates and sweat gathers on my neck.
Pacing to the window, I unbutton my jacket and brace my hands on my hips. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing. Sure, I still need to keep my role as a coordinator under wraps, but at least I’ll be able to help set up beforehand and stick around once my coworkers leave. And starting at noon? I’ll just have to provide moral support and plenty of thumbs-ups from a distance.
I hang back until only a handful of attorneys are left in the lobby before getting in line for the elevator. I catch sight of Mercedes several feet in front of me and glare at the back of her blush-colored blouse.