Page 9 of My Office Rival

You want that money right?

I did. I could start my own firm, have my name over the door. I would never have to worry about a boss discovering that I was an impostor, just a dirty kid dressed up in fancy clothes. That dream was so close I could taste it.

Jonah

Either you stay focused, or you get distracted. So it doesn’t matter if it’s her. Because you’re going to do your job and get the fuck out.

I tipped my head back against my chair. I had clawed my way to the top. Years of bartending, of scraping by, staying in shitty motels and then crappy apartments, student loan debt, hunger, fear. And I’d made it. I’d saved like a fiend for a decade and invested wisely, and I was rich. Not as rich as I wanted to be, though. Money equaled independence. Money meant freedom. I could finally stop pretending to be a starched good ol’ boy with no personality. Instead of going to work every day wondering if I’d get fired, I could set my own hours.

When this deal started, whoever the TJR lawyer was, they were going down.

6

CYNTHIA

The email sat in my inbox like a bomb waiting to detonate. I’d interviewed for the position just a few weeks ago. If I got it, I’d be moving to Texas to be an immigration attorney. The work waspro bono(otherwise known as working for free for the public interest), and the pay was low, but it was everything I wanted. I’d be defending people instead of helping giant corporations.

I’d done a little work at the firm on immigration matters when we partnered with organizations to do free work. And I desperately hoped that experience would be enough to get me in the door at this place.

To: Kade, Cynthia

From: Thomas, Letitia

Re: Attorney Position

Dear Ms. Kade,

We really appreciate your interest in working for us, but unfortunately, we can’t extend an offer to you at this time.

That was as far as I got before my eyes blurred and I clicked out of the message.

I opened a text to Margo instead of finishing the awful email.

Cynthia

I just got a rejection from Human Rights Defense

Margo

WTF really? I’m shocked! They should be begging you to come work for them! Let’s get a drink later and you can tell me about it.

I sighed. I didn’t really want to talk about it. I just wanted to wallow, but Margo would let me do that too.

My phone lit up with another message.

Devon

Look at the view here!

A picture of the ocean followed. My brother, Devon, was away for the weekend, leaving sunny LA for somewhere even more beautiful. Jealousy bit at me, but I shoved it down. He deserved fun.One of us did.

The small kernel of resentment wouldn’t go away, though. It was there when I saw his travel photos on Instagram, the clips from his latest art-house film that would never break even, his messy apartment, and carefree life.

That’s how it had been forever. Devon, my lovely, amazing, laughing brother, did what he wanted, and I was the dutiful daughter. No one forced me to be that way. Devon never complained about his life, and he was always grateful to me when I helped him out, but something in me kept me giving and giving. Until sometimes I wanted to scream.

And then Jason Elliott had come along. Last night had been a bright spot in a string of dull winter days. If I were interested in dating, he could have checked the right boxes. He was brilliant, really fucking hot, and great in bed. That was as good a start as any.Typically, I didn’t date. I met guys on apps occasionally, but with the hours I worked, a man had to be pretty damn special to get a text back. Special enough for me to ignore all the pitfalls of dating.

The upside was sex, and the downsides were too many to count. Distraction, men who wanted me to stay home and make them dinner, men who were scared of how much money I made, the mommy track at the firm, the knowing glances I’d get if I got engaged that said “now she’ll be useless.” I thought back to the last guy I’d texted back. On my second date with Nate, he’d searched how much we made at the firm and nearly choked on his beer. After listening to a few passive aggressive comments about women in the workplace, I’d faked a stomach illness and walked home.

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