"Sounds great."
Jill adjusted the sleeve of her blouse. "I may be reading this wrong, but I take it that you're not still mad at me."
"Why would I be mad at you?"
"Maybe because I ambushed you with the worst blind date in history?"
"Oh, yeah," Maria said, surprised that she'd nearly forgotten. "That."
"I'm so sorry," Jill said. "You can't imagine how bad I felt all week, especially since I didn't have the chance to talk to you about it."
"We talked, remember? And you apologized."
"Not enough."
"It's okay. And actually, it ended up turning out fine."
"I can't imagine how."
"I met someone."
A couple of beats passed before the answer came to her. "You're not talking about the guy who changed your tire? The one who was bruised and bleeding and scared you half to death?"
"That's the one."
"How's that even possible?"
"It's kind of hard to explain."
Jill smirked. "Uh-oh."
"What?"
"You're smiling again."
"Am I?"
"Yes, you are. And part of me wants to cancel the conference call and just pull up a chair."
"I can't. Barney and I are meeting a client in a few minutes."
"But we're definitely on for lunch, right? And you'll fill me in then?"
"Without a doubt."
Ten minutes later, Serena called on her cell phone. When Maria saw who was on the line, she felt a sudden jolt of concern. Serena never called before ten a.m. Half the time, she wasn't even awake by ten.
"Serena? Are you okay?"
"Where is it?"
"Where's what?"
"The photo of Colin. It wasn't in my e-mail or text."
Maria blinked. "You're calling me at work, during work hours, about a photo?"
"I wouldn't have had to if you'd already sent it. Did it go okay? Tell me you didn't already run him off."
"No. As a matter of fact, we're going out Saturday night."
"Okay," Serena said. "The post won't have as much impact without a photo, though. Of course, I guess I could just use one of you from when you were a kid or whatever if you're not going to send it..."
"Good-bye, Serena."
She hung up the phone, only to reach for her cell phone a few minutes later, more out of morbid curiosity than anything.
And there, on Instagram, was her photo. From when she was in middle school. Braces. Acne. Glasses. Gawky. The worst school photo in the history of school photos. "Try not to be jealous, guys, but my sister Maria has a date this Saturday night!"
Maria closed her eyes. She was going to have to kill her sister. No question about it.
But she had to admit, Serena was kind of funny.
Over a plate of assorted sushi and sashimi a couple of hours later, Maria filled Jill in on much of what had happened with Colin, the story sounding unbelievable even to her.
"Wow," Jill breathed.
"Do you think I'm crazy? Considering his past?"
"Who am I to judge? Look at the blind date we set up. On something as out of the box as this, your best bet is to just keep following your instincts."
"What if my instincts are wrong?"
"Then at the very least, you got your tire changed. And had a nice date, which I'm hoping will get me totally off the hook for that double-date fiasco."
Maria smiled. "So the depositions were boring?"
"They were enough to make a monk go crazy, since half the people are perfectly willing to lie under oath and the other half say they can't remember anything at all. And now that I wasted my time all week, we'll probably just end up settling. Par for the course, but I can't say I'm ever going to enjoy it." She snagged another piece of sushi. "How goes it with Barney?"
"Better," she said.
"What does that mean?"
"Oh, that's right--you weren't here," Maria started, and she told Jill about getting her tire changed and how it led to being late for the meeting, along with all the work she felt compelled to do in the aftermath. She also recounted the dressing-down Barney gave her, though she omitted the confrontation with Ken.
"Barney will get over it. He's always tense before trial."
Yes, but... Maria shifted in her seat. "The thing is, I heard that Barney was going to let me be lead counsel on this case."
"Where did you hear that?" Jill held her chopsticks at half-mast. "Don't get me wrong, you're a brilliant associate--but you're a little short on experience for Barney to saddle you with that kind of responsibility."
"Rumors," Maria said.
"I wouldn't put much stock in rumors. Barney enjoys the limelight too much, and he has a hard time ceding control--not to mention credit--to even the most senior associates. That's one of the reasons I transferred to labor and employment. I figured I'd never be able to move up, or even get the courtroom experience I needed."
"I still can't believe you were able to transfer departments."
"Lucky timing. I told you I was in labor and employment for a few years before I started at the firm, right?" When Maria nodded, Jill went on. "At the time, though, I wasn't sure it was what I really wanted to do, so I took a chance and tried insurance litigation. I worked with Barney for nine months and practically killed myself before I realized it was a dead end. I would have left, but it just so happened that the firm was building up its labor and employment practice and needed me."
"Unfortunately, I'm kind of stuck if this doesn't work out. Unless we start doing criminal defense."
"You could always change firms."
"That's not as easy as you might think."
"You haven't been looking, have you?"
"Not really. But I've been beginning to wonder if I should start."
Jill scrutinized her as she reached for her glass. "You know you can talk to me, right? About any concerns you have. While I'm not a partner, I do run my own department, which gives me some clout around here."
"I've just got a lot on my mind right now."
"Hopefully, you're talking about Colin."
The mention of his name brought more memories from the weekend, and she changed the subject. "How's Paul doing?"
"He's fine. I had to give him the cold shoulder for a couple of days as punishment for the date, but he got over it. We went to Asheville over the weekend for some wine tasting."
"That sounds fun."
"It was. Except, of course, there's no ring yet and the biological clock is still ticking and time is growing short. Pretending that everything is okay hasn't worked yet, so maybe it's time to try a new strategy."
"Like what?"
"I have no idea. If you have any foolproof plans, be sure to let me know."
"Will do."
Jill had another piece of sushi. "What do you have lined up this afternoon?"
"Same stuff as usual. There's a lot of prep work to finish for the trial. While trying to keep up with everything else, of course."
"Like I said, Barney expects a lot from his associates."
And Ken expects something else. "It's a job," she said.
"Are you sure everything is okay? Even with our lecherous managing partner?"
"Why would you ask?"
"Because you went off to that conference with him, and I've known him longer than you have. And remember--I know exactly how he operates."
"The conference was fine."
Jill gave her the once-over before finally offering a shrug. "Fair enough," she said. "The point is, I'm sensing that something else is bothering you."
Maria cleared her throat, wondering why it suddenly felt as if she were being interrogated.
"There's really nothing to say," she answered. "I'm just doing the best job I can."
The days that followed were too busy for the luxury of daydreaming, with Barney storming into her office every half hour asking her to examine additional details or to make calls, notwithstanding her work on other clien
t matters. She barely had time to leave her desk, and on Wednesday afternoon, while working on a draft of Barney's opening statement, she failed to notice the way the sunlight began slanting through her windows, or the departures, one by one, of her colleagues. She stared at her MacBook screen with singular concentration until a knock at her office door startled her. She saw the door slowly swing open.
Ken.
With a jolt of panic, she looked through the open doorway; across the hall, Lynn was no longer at her desk. Barney's office was dark, and she couldn't hear anyone else in the hallway.
"I noticed that your lights were still on," he said, stepping into her office. "Do you have a few minutes?"
"I was just finishing up," she improvised, hearing a trace of uncertainty in her tone. "I must have lost track of time."
"I'm glad I caught you then," he said, his voice smooth and controlled. "I wanted to finish the conversation we started last week."
Maria felt a thud in her chest and began collecting the pages on her desk before slipping them back into their folders. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with him. She swallowed. "Is there any way we could do this tomorrow? I'm already late and I'm supposed to have dinner with my parents tonight."
"It won't take long," he said, ignoring her excuse as he came around her desk. He stood near the window and she noted the sky had darkened beyond the glass. "It might be easier for you this way, since we're away from prying eyes. There's no reason for everyone to know what happened with Barney's clients."
Not knowing what to say, she stayed quiet.
He glanced out the window, seemingly focused on something in the distance. "How do you like working with Barney?" he finally asked.
"I'm learning a lot from him," Maria began, choosing her words carefully. "He has great strategic instincts, the clients trust him, and as a colleague, he's good at explaining his thinking."
"You respect him, then."
"Of course."
"It's important to work with people that you respect. It's important that the two of you can work together as a team." Ken adjusted the venetian blinds, closing them slightly, then returning them to their original position. "Would you consider yourself a team player?"
The question hung in the air before she was able to answer. "I try to be," she said.
Ken waited a beat before going on. "I spoke to Barney again on Friday about the situation, and I must say that I was a bit surprised at how angry he still was over what happened. That's why I asked you about being a team player. Because I went to bat for you in that meeting, and I think I've been able to defuse the situation. I wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing."
Maria swallowed, wondering why Barney hadn't talked to her himself if he was still so upset. "Thank you," she finally murmured.
He turned from the window and took a step toward her. "I did it because I want you to have a long and successful tenure at the firm. You're going to need someone who's able to advocate for you in these kinds of situations, and I'm here to help you when I can." By then, he was standing over her, and she felt him place a hand on her shoulder. Kind of. His fingertips skimmed the area below her collarbone. "You should consider me a friend, albeit a friend in a high place."
Recoiling from his touch, she suddenly knew that all of this--the Monday cold shoulder, the dressing-down on Thursday, and now this you and me against the world show--was simply part of his latest plan to get her in bed, and she wondered why she hadn't been able to see it coming.
"We should go to lunch tomorrow," he said, his fingertips still brushing the exposed skin above her scoop-necked shirt. "We can talk about other ways that I can help you navigate the ins and outs of the office, especially if you hope to become a partner one day. I think you and I will be able to work together really well. Don't you think so, Maria?"
It was the sound of her name that brought her back, his words finally registering. Not in this lifetime, she suddenly thought. "I can't go to lunch tomorrow," she said, trying to hold her voice steady. "I already have plans."
A flash of annoyance crossed his face. "With Jill?"
That was usually the case, and Ken of course knew that. No doubt he'd suggest that she change the plan. For her own good.
"Actually, I'm going to lunch with my boyfriend."
She felt his hand slowly slip off her shoulder. "You have a boyfriend?"
"I told you about Colin, didn't I? When we were at the conference?"
"No," he answered. "You didn't mention him."
Sensing her chance, Maria rose from her seat and stepped away, continuing to collect documents, stuffing them into files, not caring where they ended up. She could sort them out later. "That's strange," she remarked. "I thought I did."
She could tell by his plastic smile that he was trying to decide whether or not to believe her. "Tell me about him," he said.
"He's an MMA fighter," she answered. "You know those guys in the cage? I think it's crazy, but he's really into it. He works out and trains for hours every day and he loves to fight, so I kind of feel like I have to support him."
She could imagine the wheels in his mind continuing to turn as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder. "While I can't meet for lunch, do you want to talk in your office tomorrow? I'm sure I can clear part of my morning or afternoon." When there are others around, she didn't bother adding.
"I'm not sure that's necessary."
"Maybe I should talk to Barney?"
He shook his head, the movement almost imperceptible. "It's probably best to let it go for now."
Of course you'd say that. Because this whole thing was a ruse and you never talked to Barney at all. "All right. I guess I'll say good night, then."
She reached the door, breathing a sigh of relief as she made her escape. The whole boyfriend thing had been inspired, but that card had now been played. It wouldn't surprise him again; he'd be ready for it. In the long run--or maybe even in the short run--she doubted it would stop Ken's advances, even if it had been true.
Or became true?
Still reeling from her encounter, she wondered if she wanted it to be true. All she knew for certain was that when Colin had kissed her, she'd felt something electric, and the realization was both exhilarating and frightening--at exactly the same time.
Though she'd been lying when she told Ken that she was having dinner with her parents, she wasn't in the mood to be alone and found herself driving the familiar roads to the place she'd grown up.
The neighborhood was more blue collar than white, with homes showing signs of deferred maintenance and a few sporting FOR SALE signs. Older-model cars and trucks were parked in virtually every driveway. Their neighbors had always been plumbers and carpenters, clerical workers and secretaries. It was the kind of community where kids played in the front yards and young couples pushed strollers, where people would collect the mail for each other when they were out of town. Though her parents never talked about it, Maria had heard rumors growing up that when her dad had first bought the house, more than a few neighbors living at this end of the block had been upset. The Sanchezes were the first nonwhite family on the street, and people had quietly speculated about declining property values and rising crime, as though everyone who'd been born in Mexico was somehow connected to the drug cartels.
She supposed it was one of the reasons that her dad had always kept the yard immaculate and the bushes trimmed; he repainted the exterior in the same color every fifth year, always parked his cars in the garage instead of the driveway, and kept an American flag mounted on a pole on the front porch. He decorated the house for both Halloween and Christmas and in their first years would hand out restaurant coupons to any neighbor who happened to be outside, allowing them to eat at half price. Her mom regularly made trays of food on the weekend afternoons when she wasn't at the restaurant--burritos and enchiladas, tacos or carnitas--which she would serve to any of the kids who were out playing kickball or soccer. Little by little, they'd been accepted in the neighborhood
. Since then, most of the surrounding homes had been sold more than once, and in every instance, her parents showed up to welcome the new owners with a housewarming gift in the hopes of preventing future whispers.
Maria sometimes had trouble imagining how hard it had been, though in school, there'd been more than a couple of years when she'd been the only Mexican in her classroom. Because she'd been a good student, albeit a quiet one, she couldn't remember feeling the sting of discrimination in the same way her parents had experienced it, but even if she had, her parents would have told her to do what they had done. They would have told her to be herself, to be kind and welcoming to everyone, and they would have warned her that she should never sink to others' level. And then, she thought with a smile, they would have told her to study.
Unlike Serena, who was still reveling in finally being out from under her parents' thumbs, Maria enjoyed coming home. She loved the old place: the green and orange walls; the wildly playful ceramic tile in the kitchen; the eclectic furniture her mother had collected over the years; a refrigerator door that was endlessly decorated with photos and information relating to the family, anything that had made Carmen particularly proud. She loved the way her mother hummed whenever she was happy and especially when she was cooking. Growing up, Maria had taken these things for granted, but beginning in college, she could remember a feeling of comfort whenever she pushed through the front door, even after just a few weeks away.
Knowing her parents would be offended if she knocked, she went straight in, moving through the living room and into the kitchen. She set her bag on the counter.
"Mom? Dad? Where are you?" she called out.
As always when at home, she spoke Spanish, the shift from English as simple as breathing and just as unconscious.
"Out here!" she heard her mom answer.
Maria turned toward the back porch, where she saw her mom and dad rising from the table. Happy she was here and leaning in for hugs, they both spoke at once.
"We didn't know you were coming..."
"What a nice surprise..."
"You look wonderful..."
"You're so skinny..."
"Are you hungry?"
Maria greeted her mom, then her dad, then her mom again, then her dad a second time. In her parents' minds, Maria would always be their little girl. And though there'd been a period for a few teenage years when the idea had mortified her--especially when apparent in public--these days she had to admit that she kind of liked it.