Ben gave Mike a fraternal punch on the shoulder. “Let’s call up Julia,” Ben said. “I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you.”
The two men looked at one another and then, with some regret, burst into laughter.
30
WASHROOM PROTOCOL WAS A peculiar feature of the law office life-style. The washrooms were perhaps the only communal meeting place for persons from all echelons of the firm. Everyone went there at one time or another, excepting the three named partners, each of whom had his own private washroom that could only be entered with a special key. In the general public men’s rooms, however, the partners and associates alike enacted a complex ritual, from greeting all present by name upon entrance to the vigorous washing of hands on the way out. Associates went to ostentatious lengths to demonstrate that they had no latent uneasiness about urinating in the presence of others, and every one of them, Ben suspected, would have preferred to remain silent and be left in peace in a private stall while they took care of business. The office washroom, however, might be the only place a junior associate ever saw most partners. Ergo, bizarrely enough, it became a place to try to make an impression.
Ben met Greg on his way in.
“Long time no see,” Greg said, pushing the door open. “Boy, have people ever been talking about you.”
Ben was reflexively defensive. “I don’t want to hear about—” Greg silenced him by raising a finger to his lips in the hush position. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger across his lips, then flicked his fingers, as if to throw away the key. Greg crouched down and checked to see if there were any feet visible beneath the stall doors. Evidently there weren’t.
“Can’t be too careful,” Greg said, turning back toward the urinals. “Partners are everywhere.”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think you’re overdoing this firm intrigue routine?”
“Hey, I’ve planned to be a lawyer all my life,” Greg said. “It’s all I ever wanted to do. I’m not going to blow it now by being stupid. Loose lips sink ships.”
What a great place to work, Ben thought.
“I understand your first court appearance was an unmitigated disaster,” Greg said. For some inexplicable reason, he seemed to be grinning.
“Glad everyone’s heard about it,” Ben muttered. “Saves me the bother of sending out announcements.”
“Ah, well,” Greg said, “that’s why you’ve made those connections in high places, right?” He flashed his perfect smile. “A wise associate hedges his bets.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Greg. You’re starting to sound like Alvin.”
Greg’s smile became something like a patronizing leer. “You didn’t really think you could keep something like that secret, did you, old boy?” Greg zipped up and walked over to the sinks. “Don’t be so secretive. Your fellow associates were very impressed. I was very impressed. I hadn’t pegged you as the one to make the smooth career moves. You seemed a smidgen too busy being noble to me. But you outflanked your entire class. And in a very masterly fashion, too, I might add. How can Raven fire you now? It can’t happen. It’s perfect.” He wiped his hands on a paper towel. “I guess I should have realized you were on the fast track after that stint with Mona Raven.”
Ben stared blankly at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Right. That’s your story, and you’re sticking to it. I don’t blame you. Did Mona have something to do with this? I was in Chambers’s office when he found out. Was he ever pissed! He was counting on that Vancouver case reassignment to keep his billables above the freezing point. Wait till he hears this latest news.” He slapped Ben on the shoulder. “Pretty impressive for someone whose only court experience was … what was the phrase, an unmitigated disaster?”
Deep furrows crept across Ben’s forehead. “I don’t understand,” he said. “What has Mrs. Raven to do with the Vancouver case?”
“Come on, Ben—this is part of the act, right? Are you serious? Mona Raven and Sanguine are lovers. Were lovers, anyway. Before her marriage to Arthur Raven. Mr. Raven is evidently an amazingly understanding husband. Of course, at his age, he’d have to be.”
Ben was stunned. “Where do you hear these things?”
Greg beamed. “A good lawyer has many sources.” He winked and sauntered out of the washroom.
All roads lead back to Sanguine, Ben thought. No matter what startling new development I come across, Joseph Sanguine is always involved.
He stopped suddenly. What was Greg’s latest news?
31
BEN WALKED BACK TO his office, stifling a yawn. He hadn’t slept at all the night before. Too much was happening, pulling him every which way at once. Derek, Julia, Sanguine. Emily. Too much. Too much concern, too much guilt. He began to wonder if he would ever sleep peacefully again, if the gnawing in his stomach would ever subside.
Just as he had nearly made it to his office, he was stopped by Maggie. “Two messages came in for you, Mr. Kincaid,” she said, in an unnecessarily loud tone of voice.
“Thanks, Maggie.” He lifted the message memos from his spindle.
The first was from Christina. It read: No luck yet. Still hard at it—probably conducting more audits than real IRS. Why does Tulsa need so many different places to live?
Ben smiled. Now there’s a good woman. This was probably part of the cosmic karma, he mused. In exchange for getting to work with Christina, he had to tolerate working with Derek and Maggie.
The second message informed Ben that Mr. Derek wished to see him. Ben crumpled that message in his fist and, taking his own sweet time, strolled into Derek’s office.
“Good to see you, Kincaid.”
Ben blinked. Derek actually seemed cordial, all smiles.
“Where have you been hiding yourself?”
Ben was startled by this sudden outburst of friendliness. This wasn’t the Derek he had come to know and be repelled by. Something had changed radically.
“Take a chair, son. I’d come around, but my trick knee is acting up again.”
Ben sat as instructed.
Derek looked into Ben’s eyes, but it seemed more a friendly scrutiny than the usual dissection. “Well, now, you’ve been a busy boy, haven’t you?” He squinted his eyes into impossibly thin slits, then laughed. “Just got off the phone with Joseph Sanguine.”
Oh, great, Ben thought. I pushed Sanguine too hard, and he’s ticked off about it. I’m history. Finished. Fired. Impoverished. Destitute.
“We’ve been after Sanguine for years to appoint someone to act as in-house liaison counsel for Sanguine Enterprises, and we wanted it to be someone from our firm. To solidify the relationship between our business and his.” He paused meaningfully. “Do you realize that Sanguine Enterprises paid over four million dollars in legal fees to Raven, Tucker & Tubb last year alone? Incredible. Needless to say, we don’t want to lose this client.”
Derek uncrossed and recrossed his legs manually, using both hands to lift the legs into place. He winced as he bent his right knee. “Sanguine wants you to be his in-house counsel, Kincaid. He asked for you by name and made it clear he would accept no substitutes. Frankly, we thought he’d go for someone with more legal experience, someone who’d been here ten, maybe fifteen years, rather than ten, fifteen days”—he waved his hand absently in the air—“but who are we to judge? The client always knows best. Sanguine says he wants to train someone fresh, someone who will learn to transact business his way from day one. And frankly, Sanguine knows damn well we’ll give him whomever he wants.”