Page 7 of Behind Frenemy Lines

Line crackled. Removed the receiver from my ear to inspect it. Was wondering if I should end the call and try ringing again, when I heard a noise at the door. Looked up and saw Kriya Rajasekar.

Her hair had grown out since the last time I saw her. (When was the last time? Conference where she gave that talk on privilege, must be.) Her curls were halfway down her back now. Big gold hoops in her ears, tiny gold stud in her nose. She was wearing a black dress, long-sleeved and high-necked.

And fitted. Very fitted. Kriya had a lot to fit. In a good way.

Averted my gaze, hoping she hadn’t caught me looking. Not appropriate to stare at a professional contact—competitor, in fact. But what was a competitor doing in my office?

My eyes, searching for somewhere safe to land, alighted upon my computer screen. There was a new email from my PA, sent at nine a.m. sharp. Subject line:

Don’t forget your new office mate Kriya is starting today! :)

Gaped at screen.

I’d known I was going to have to start sharing my office. It had been framed as a request, but saying no had not been an option. (Checked with Farah, thinking she might have leverage as group manager. She said: “Thank your stars you’ve got an office at all, Charles. I practically had to threaten to go on strike to get it signed off. You don’t want to risk reminding Facilities and HR they made a concession. They’d be all too happy to walk it back.”)

No one had told me who was going to be sharing my office, though. I knew they were coming over with the Product Liabilitypartner we’d poached from Brown, Rosenburg and Cushway. But I hadn’t bothered asking their name. Hadn’t thought it would make a difference.

Kriya looked at me, then went away.

Anne-Laure’s voice said, from the phone: “Hello? Are you there?”

CG, after a pause: “Yes. I’m here. You cut out for a moment.”

Anne-Laure: “Yes, sorry, it was not the line. There was a little bit of an incident. I was driving, and when you said we might have to pay£1 million… however, it is all fine. Nothing is damaged, and I have pulled over. Did you say they are suing us for£1 million? The contract says they are entitled to the money?”

Managed to complete the call without making Anne-Laure drive into a tree (again). Only casualty was my ego. This is what Farah means when she says I must improve my bedside manner with clients.

Kriya nowhere to be seen. She’d taken her things with her, instead of leaving them at the desk opposite me. Maybe she wasn’t going to be sharing my office after all, notwithstanding PA’s email. But it wasn’t like my PA to get something like that wrong.

Found myself wishing Loretta had been there to interpret Kriya’s reaction upon seeing me. Loretta also not great at bedside manner—must be genetic—but you can trust her to be forthright. Told her once, after that conference where I last saw Kriya:

“I think Kriya Rajasekar doesn’t like me.”

Hoping for reassurance: You must be imagining it, you barely know each other, etc.

Loretta: “You did correct her mistake. In the middle of her talk, in front of everybody.”

CG: “She mixed up the case names. It was nothing personal. Probably a trainee put the slides together. Though she should have checked.”

Loretta: “Nobody asked you to raise your hand while she was speaking and tell the whole audience. You could have mentioned it after she was done, one-on-one.”

CG: “But then the audience might not have caught the error.”

Loretta: “Well, there you have it. You were devoted to the truth, so that’s what you get. If you were devoted to getting Hot Lawyer Who Hates You to like you, you should have made a different choice.”

Loretta is a five on the Kinsey scale, or a two, or whatever number means she is primarily attracted to women but would make an exception for Gong Yoo. She stalked Kriya online early on in our acquaintance, and again whenever I happened to run into Kriya over the years. She found Kriya’s Instagram account a few years back and made inappropriate noises, disgusting to hear from a cousin. (Loretta: “You have good taste, Charles, but no game. That is your tragedy.”)

CG: “You think she does dislike me, then?”

Loretta: “Biu Gor”—only calls me this when she’s taking the piss—“I have never met this woman in my life. I have no idea what she thinks of you.”

Suspected I didn’t need her insight just then, anyway. Kriya hadn’t exactly looked delighted. She probably could have competed with Anne-Laure in a Most Horrified Expression contest.

Leaned back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose.

Luckily (or not), I didn’t have the chance to brood, because Ma rang. Told her I was at work.

Ma: “You’re always at work. If I don’t call because you’re at work, I’ll never get to speak to my son.”

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