Rascal (Rascals Book 1)(13)

A small gasp escaped Laney’s lips. She looked down at the table at her soon-to-be ex-husband, who was wearing a smug smile. I wanted to slap it off his face.

“I supported you,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I sacrificed my own dreams to make yours a reality.”

All he did was shrug. Now, I wanted to punch him.

The lawyers duked it out for hours. By the end of it, we were no closer to a solution. Our client stood firm on the fifty-fifty split, while the husband’s team kept presenting “evidence” that not only did our client deserve nothing, but they were willing to sue her for repayment.

Laney was white-faced when we broke, and she immediately fled the room.

“She’s got some nerve,” Bryce said as we all filed out.

I gave him a look.

“What? This dude built a multi-million-dollar company. Why should he have to give away his hard-earned money to a woman who he’s not even sleeping with?”

I was shocked into silence. I turned towards Lucinda, expecting that she would at least offer some support to our client, but she seemed as unsympathetic as Bryce did.

“This is why everyone should sign a pre-nup,” she said with a flip of her hair. “It’s her own fault if she didn’t.”

I walked away from them without responding. I knew that part of our jobs as lawyers was to be sensible—to not let emotion get in the way of decisions—but sometimes I felt people like Bryce and Lucinda took that emotionless thing way too far. These were people’s lives we were dealing with.

Heading into the bathroom, I heard the sound of sniffles.

Laney was standing at the sink, crying. She jumped when I entered, dabbing at her eyes and trying to hide her face.

“Here.” I reached into my purse and pulled out some eye drops. “Must be all the pollen in the air,” I said kindly.

She managed a watery smile.

“Something like that,” she said, taking the eye drops. “Twenty years,” she whispered, staring into the mirror. “Twenty years of marriage and he thinks I’m worthless.”

I caught her gaze in the reflection. “Then he obviously doesn’t know you at all.”

She smiled—a real smile.

“We know what you’re worth,” I told her. “And we’re going to get every penny.”

Just then, Lucinda walked in. She didn’t say anything, just headed straight for a stall, not even bothering to acknowledge the client.

“Take as much time as you need,” I told Laney.

“Thank you,” she said, fixing her hair and makeup.

When she was done, she handed me the eye drops.

“I think my allergies have cleared up,” she said, standing a little bit taller.

“I think so too.” I smiled.

She left, and I washed my hands and checked my own makeup. Lucinda came out of the stall and began reapplying lipstick.

“You’re not her therapist,” she told me. “That’s not your job.”

“I was just being nice,” I responded, annoyed.

“You can’t bill hours for being nice,” she countered. “And nice certainly won’t get you the associate position. That’s going to go to someone who understands what this job is really about. Winning.”

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I said nothing. Finally Lucinda got the hint and left. I knew that she was right—that I needed to keep my eye on the prize. But I was also pretty confident that people didn’t want to work with lawyers who were assholes. At least not to them.

I returned to my desk to type up the notes from the meeting. I felt bad for our client, but I also knew that there was no way in hell we were going to let her ex-husband get away with leaving her with nothing. She was going to get her fifty percent.

With the notes typed up, I headed to Arthur’s office to drop them off. He waved me in when he saw me at his secretary’s desk, gesturing for me to take a seat.

“You’ve been doing good work here,” he told me.

He wasn’t much for small talk—a trait I appreciated.

“Thank you,” I said.

Arthur was in his seventies—a real law icon—and it was an honor to work with him. He’d cut his teeth on civil rights suits, a trail-blazing African-American lawyer, before turning to the more lucrative side of the business. He looked every inch the part, too, with his black hair turning grey and his classic pinstriped suits. He looked like the kind of grandfather that would give you money for your birthday instead of candy. The kind of grandfather that would also tell you exactly how to invest it. He was a well of knowledge, and I tried to soak up everything I could when I was around him.

“The firm’s cocktail party is this weekend,” he reminded me. “Who are you bringing?”

“Um.” I paused. I had planned on going alone.

“You know that the partners like stability,” he continued. “Lucinda will be bringing her husband, and Bryce just recently got engaged. Everyone is eager to meet their spouses. A settled lawyer is a productive lawyer, someone keeping the home fires burning while you work your long hours.”

My stomach got an uncomfortable twist in it. Was Arthur saying what I thought he was saying?

“Just remember that we can be a bit traditional here,” he told me, but the warning was clear.