Page 133 of Love Is an Art
“Have you accepted yet?” he asks.
“Not yet.”
He asks me to think it over for one more night—to consider of all the pro bono I can do here with the resources of the firm, including the opportunities to train younger associates. Granted, it would not be full-time, but by encouraging younger associates to take on pro bono cases to obtain that additional legal experience in courtrooms and with clients, it’s as if I’m cloning myself. He repeats how valuable I am to the firm—especially with the amount of business I am bringing in from Capital Management. He lets it slip that the bonus was basically mine.
It definitely hurts.
I can feel myself wavering. The cloning argument is a good one. I tell him I will think over what he said.
As soon as I close the door to his office, though, I know I’m still going to FLAFL. Those are the cases I want to spend my time on. I can still recruit younger associates from here to help. Jack would help me.
But how did Tom find out?
I take the elevator back to my floor. As I walk down the hallway, Tom is outside my office, waiting.
“You’re going to FLAFL, aren’t you?” he says as I approach. A printer grumbles in the background as it spews out sheets of paper.
“They made the offer today. How’d you find out?” And Zeke was worried his office was bugged. It seems my office is.
“From your boyfriend.” His smile is sly.
“My boyfriend?” I snort. “Nice try. There’s no way Zeke would tell you.”
“Not that boyfriend.”
I stare at him. “Wyatt?”
“Bingo. Wyatt told me at the FLAFL dinner that you were always planning to go to FLAFL. And then I spoke to some FLAFL lawyer who was talking about how a position just opened up. And that it’s a rare opportunity for a mid-level lawyer. I put two and two together, and I made a very good guess.”
Wyatt. I can’t believe it. His indiscretion has cost me the bonus. He knows I can’t stand Tom and the feeling is mutual.
He asks, “You’re really going to FLAFL?”
“Yes,” I say.
“I wasn’t sure you would go even if you got the job,” Tom says.
“At least you’ll get the bonus.”
“No, I won’t. My accusing you of a ‘fake’ ethical violation torpedoed that. I thought it was real.” He looks off to the side like a petulant child.
Tom is not getting the bonus either.The firm did address his behavior.
“But you should keep Zeke on a tighter leash. Paisley may say that she doesn’t want him back, but don’t believe her. She’s just using me so she looks like she has a date. The minute she saw him at that function yesterday, she made a beeline right over to him. And she said he was all puppy eyes around her when they were dating.” He smiles slyly and walks away.
I walk into my office and sink into my chair.
How could Wyatt?
I can’t think about his betrayal right now. I have to focus on my career.
I call Ken to accept the job. I’m actually quitting White & Gilman. It’s hard to believe. I inform the managing partner.
Zeke’s line goes straight to voice mail. He has a key presentation today—the one that decides whether Charles will back him for a transfer. I can’t bother him. I don’t leave a message.
I still feel bad about Jack.
I call Wyatt. That jerk. He doesn’t pick up either. I leave a very angry voice mail telling him I never want to speak to him again, and I can’t believe he betrayed me like that. He knew my desire to work for FLAFL was confidential. This is my career. How dare he treat that like some bit of gossip good for sharing at a cocktail party?
