I can’t think of anything to say, and Brendan must see he’s struck a nerve. Because he gets up and comes over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey, you’re a good guy, Joe. I’m not saying you’re not. And we don’t need to bring in Sigmund friggin’ Freud to diagnose your condition. You saw what happened to dad after ma left, and how much it messed him up. He started drinking on the job. And . . . Yeah, you don’t want to be like him. I get it.”
What Brendan didn’t mention, was what happened after our dad started drinking on the job. He got sloppy. Chopped through the wrong support beam and took out two other guys with him. It was a nightmare.
I take a deep breath.
“But here’s the thing,” Brendan says, taking his hand off my shoulder and going over to the cooler for another beer. “Doing what you’re doing — drinking alone and never letting anyone into your life — is just another way to end up like dad and be miserable.”
I look at Brendan, taken aback.
He shakes his head ruefully. “Sorry, man. But it’s obvious. You’re not happy. I’m sure Jax can see it too. Which is why if you sit him down and ask him about his sister, I bet he’d give you the whole ‘don’t you dare hurt her or I’ll break every bone in your body’ speech and then give you his permission. And shit, man. If you don’t want to go after her, find someone else you like. For my sake as well.”
I chuckle. “There’s no one else.”
“What’s that?”
“I said there’s no one else.” I clear my throat. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but she’s all I’ve been thinking about. No other woman has had this effect on me.”
“Is that right?” Brendan says, with a somewhat salacious grin. “Now you havetotell me what this girl looks like.”
I smile. “I don’t think I can find words that do full justice to her beauty. But maybe you’ll meet her in person one day.”
10
Bethany
“I am a strong,powerful, and intelligent woman.”
I’m in my bathroom and staring at my reflection, saying this ridiculous mantra out loud. It feels like a silly thing to say. Mainly because I woke up to one hundred and nine new emails. That’s right —one hundred and nine! No matter how strong, powerful, and intelligent I may be, that’s just too many emails to wake up to. Oh, the feeling of falling behind before you’ve even brushed your teeth!
At least I managed to respond to three of those emails while brushing. Now I only have one hundred and ten left to respond to since four new ones suddenly came in. Thanks, technology!
Yep, that’s the life of a lawyer for you. Not exactly how it’s portrayed on TV. Not gonna lie, sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.
I mean, sure I make good money. But guess what? My male colleagues make more. That’s a bitter pill to swallow. Even monkeys get angry when their peers get more for the same amount of work. There’s this hilarious experiment where two monkeys are given different rewards for the same task. One of them gets slices of cucumber, and the other gets grapes. When the one getting the cucumber notices its pal is getting yummy grapes, it flings its cucumber at the experimenter. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I deserve grapes too.
Maybe you think I sound ungrateful. Most people would kill to make the money I make. I’m an attorney at Baker, Vinz & Frye, Chicago’s second-largest grossing law firm. If I work hard, I can get promoted. Make even more money. And the longer I do it, the easier it’ll get. Like anything.
Or that’s what they tell me, at least. But what they failed to tell me is that just before I started working at the firm, a female attorney quit after being there over a decade, because she was never promoted to equity partner, while younger and less competent male colleagues were. I googled her name and learned she filed a discrimination lawsuit and settled with the firm outside of court.
But maybe there were other factors besides her gender, which got in the way of that promotion. Who knows.
I sigh.
“I am strong, power —”
Screw it. I don’t feel like saying any more stupid affirmations. I just want to climb back in bed and sleep the morning away. Dream of Joey and his impossibly muscled arms. Staring into his mysterious hazel eyes. Cracking the mystery of this heart.
But duty calls. I go into my room and pick an outfit. Another pantsuit.
In my closet mirror, I examine how it looks. It is professional but you can still notice my butt. There’s no hiding it.
And don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind it when guys sneak a peek. What pisses me off is everything else they do — the men at my firm, that is.
Okay, not all of them. They’re not all a bunch of pervs. Some take me seriously. But there’s definitely a culture there, it seems. And I know it’s customary to give the new kid grunt work. But still, I’ve been at the firm over six months now, and I’m still the photocopy go-to person. I’m still the one making coffee runs. It’s so frustrating.
So, I did something about it.
