“It is. Yeah. No. Yes, I mean . . .” I let out a breath and run a hand through my hair. “You work really hard. Harder than most. I’ve never had a sales guy give me notes before meeting a client.”
“That’s because I’m not a sales guy.” She looks down at her drink. “I’m a woman.”
“No kidding.”
She smiles, and I feel it like a bullet to the chest. “So the lesson here is . . .”
“Women have to work harder.”
“Bingo.”
“I’m not a total idiot. I’ve heard that before.”
“But have you seen it before?”
I scratch the back of my head, my neck and face flooding with heat.
Nora pats me gently on the back. “You know now. Which means—”
“I’m a privileged asshole?”
“Yes. But take it a step further. You’re aware of the problem, so now you can help fix it. It’s a big goal of mine to eventually rework the culture at A&T—make it a better place to work for everyone who’s not a white dude.”
I meet her eyes. They’re sharp. Intelligent. Alive with something I haven’t seen in them before. Fire? Passion? Desire?
Determination.
It suddenly clicks into place. Nora works her ass off to make a lot of money, just like the rest of us in this industry do. But unlike most, she also works to make a difference. Or is trying to, anyway. And even though I’m trying to make a difference too in my family’s life, it’s guys like me who stand in her way.
My excitement deflates. One: how could I have been so blind? Especially being as preoccupied as I am with making sure my three sisters get into good schools so they can get good jobs and make a good living?
Two: how have I not considered how much harder it might be for them to do that than it was for me? I’ve worked with women since I began my career in finance more than a decade ago. I’ve traveled with them. Rubbed elbows with them at work events like this one. And still I never really picked up on just how much more difficult it is for them to climb the corporate ladder than it’s been for me.
My face is burning now. This is embarrassing. Infuriating too.
But then Nora is wrapping her hand around my bicep and giving it a squeeze. My body lights up at the same moment she murmurs, “They’re here.”
She tucks her notebook back into her bag and rises. I watch her smooth her skirt. Her expression too. The flame in her eyes is extinguished, replaced by friendliness that’s just the right temperature. Not too warm to invite unwanted attention, but warm enough to be welcoming.
“Brian, Mike, hey!” She’s even modulated her voice, brightening it a touch without being loud or syrupy. “Thank y’all so much for coming.”
I turn on my stool, standing, to see two guys in khakis and puffer vests approaching us. One of them looks like he’s a little older than I am. Mid-forties, maybe. The other is in his twenties, an analyst if I had to guess.
Their eyes go straight to Nora, flickering with something I know all too well when they take in her smile, the neckline of her blouse, the heels she wears.
Animals.
I’m no better. But it still pisses me off to see them ogling her like we’re at a frat party instead of a business meeting.
“Nora.” The older guy who I’m assuming is Brian takes her outstretched hand. “You’re looking well.”
I curl my right hand into a fist at my side. I don’t know what I’d do if a customer commented on my appearance. It’s weird, but Nora doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s California. I fucking love it out here. Mike! Hi, great to see you. How was Whistler? I’m still dying to go.”
Brian’s expression sours when he turns to me as Nora introduces us. I’d love to tell the guy to fuck off. But because I’m determined not to be an animal too, I paste on a smile and say, “Hello, Brian, I’m the scumbag who called you a scumbag. I’m sorry.”
“Wow,” Nora says. “Going right for the apology, huh?”
I look Brian in the eye. “Why beat around the bush? I fucked up, and I’m not afraid to own it.”
“I’m curious to see if you mean that,” Brian replies. “I have no patience for bullshit.”
“You’re in good company, because neither do I.”
Nora heads for the hostess stand to tell them we’re ready to be seated. Mike takes the chair beside Nora’s at our table, so I sit next to Brian.
I anticipated a lot of awkwardness at this meal, but Nora manages the conversation like the expert she is, moving smoothly from small talk to drinks and food.
“Y’all good if we do our usual?” she asks, scanning the menu.
“Fine by me,” Brian nods. “You always order the best stuff anyway.”