Page 5 of Escape Girl

I blinked in surprise at the woman in the doorway. She was about my own age, early thirties. Tall, at least five foot ten, withlong, blonde hair. She wore a pair of oversize glasses with thick frames, possibly with the intent of obscuring her pretty face. It didn’t work. Even with no makeup, wearing baggy jeans and a long beige cardigan sweater, she was clearly a beauty.

“Call me Emily,” I said, waving her in. “I’m afraid I don’t have time for a full consult right now, but give me a summary of your case and I’ll see if we should continue our discussion in a longer appointment this week.”

“Um.” Her eyes went wide behind those frames and she blinked several times, clearly not sure where to start. Frankly, she looked like she was on the verge of tears.

I didn’t alter my inquisitive smile, but a tiny current sparked to life along my spine. Something was very different here.

There were many ways to practice IP law, and I dealt mainly with corporate situations. Most of my recent cases involved intellectual property disputes between large multimillion—or multibillion—dollar corporations. My days were spent in conference rooms full of attorneys and product experts, reviewing intensely technical documentation, collaborating on complex strategies for litigation. The work varied from tedious to fairly interesting, but not once had it ever brought an upset young woman to my office.

“Let’s start with your name,” I said softly, hoping to put her at ease.

“Bella Bradley,” she whispered. OK, so she looked like a catalog model and sounded like an expensive line of yoga apparel. Out of habit, I grabbed a legal pad and jotted down her name while perching on the edge of my desk.

Normally, I’d ask her to sit down, but jaw-cracking yawns were fighting to break free of my lips and I wanted to get out of here before it was full-on dark outside. “What brings you to me, Bella? Tell me about your case.”

She bit her full bottom lip and turned her head to the window. “I guess I don’t even know if I have a case. I went to two IP attorneys before I got referred to you, and they didn’t think…I mean, they didn’t want to, ah, work with me.”

Interesting. But it didn’t necessarily mean that she didn’t have a valid suit. There were a lot of reasons attorneys turned down clients: overall workload, areas of specialization—particularly in intellectual property—or conflicts of interest.

She looked from the window down to the floor, briefly meeting my gaze in the middle. “When it was suggested to me that I reach out to you about my situation, I was so relieved that you’re a woman.”

I tried never to show surprise to a client, so I didn’t move a muscle, but my eyebrows wanted to draw together. Why would that matter? I mean, she was right, intellectual property firms were notorious for their lack of gender diversity. Mostly because of an overall shortage of women in the science and engineering fields, but also because of other deeply rooted equity problems. But I’d never had a case where my gender mattered in either a positive or negative way.

“Let’s try this,” I said. “Tell me your problem in six sentences or less.”

I loved this technique. Many of our clients brought us engineers or coders who could get very hung up on details or intricacies. Some of our meetings went on for hours before we had an idea of the big picture. Normally that was fine—and hell, I did charge by the hour—but tonight I wanted that big walk followed by a bigger glass of wine.

“OK.” Bella closed her eyes tightly, wrinkling her lids.

One. “On my own, I worked for over a year to design and develop a new software product.”

Two. “I went to a tech conference and met a famous CEO of a software company.” Her upper lip twitched and she turned away from me even though her eyes were still closed.

Three. “I told him about my product at the bar, and we drank, and one thing led to another and—” her voice dropped to a whisper “—he came home with me and we slept together.”

I wanted to tell her to get rid of the shame in her tone. Why would she be embarrassed about consensual sex? But I didn’t want to interrupt her flow, so I let her keep going.

Four. “In the morning he was gone, and I noticed that stuff on my desk, especially my laptop, was not exactly how I keep it.”

Five. “A few weeks later I got a cease-and-desist letter from a law firm saying that I couldn’t do anything with my own product because of copyright infringement.”

Her eyes popped open and she shouted her sixth sentence, outrage apparently triumphing over her embarrassment. “That asshole stole my code, my work, and now he’s going to pass it off as his and sue me if I try to use it!”

My mouth wanted to drop open so badly I bit the inside of my lip to keep it from happening. So yeah, my instincts had been right on. This was very, very far from any kind of typical IP case.

Bella wasn’t quite done. “The other attorneys practically laughed me out of their offices. Because of the sex? Because he’s rich and famous and I’m nobody?”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and my heart broke a little for her. I could easily see the derision on other attorneys’ faces. Without even knowing more than six sentences, I could tell her that there were major problems here.

But I also believed she was telling the truth. When you spend most of your life in the corner, most of your life being quiet and shy, you develop a good ear for what’s bullshit and what’s not.

And if this story were true…

I crossed behind my desk, punched a few keys, and looked at my calendar. “How’s 11:00 a.m. tomorrow?”

*

The walk homewas not as relaxing as I’d hoped.

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