This Case Is Gonna Kill Me Read Online Free PDF Page B

fraternize too closely with women. I needed to find a source of gossip in the office.
    The waiter came by with the others’ orders. It all looked wonderful. The baked seafood that Joseph was having smelled amazing, but I calculated the calories and settled on the bay scallops in a white wine and lemon sauce. Ryan wasn’t eating. The manager came over and leaned down to say softly, “We have a lovely organic-fed host in the back. A swimmer. Very healthy.”
    Ryan smiled up at him and nodded his appreciation. “Thank you, but I dined rather well last night. I’ll be fine.”
    The real money in the restaurant business is made in booze and hosts. Since it was noon, none of us was drinking, and Ryan wasn’t eating. The manager nodded and walked away, looking disappointed.
    The kitchen rushed out my meal (though it didn’t taste rushed; it was delicious) so I could eat with the others. The conversation was mostly about the firm, about cases that could be discussed without violating attorney/client privilege, about politics—we were approaching another presidential election—and Labor Day vacation plans. For the first time since I’d started at Ishmael, McGillary and Gold, I felt like I belonged.
    As we walked back to the office, the group fell into discrete clumps. Ryan, umbrella unfurled against the sun, fedora firmly in place, was flanked by Doug and Tom. Jane and Caroline walked together, and the final two associates, Sam and Paul, orbited the triumvirate in the front and tried to attract Ryan’s attention. I followed behind, feeling like the sick gazelle trailing the herd and wondering when a lion would pounce.
    I thought the guys looked like perfect idiots, capering jesters trying to attract the attention of the king. In some ways I couldn’t blame them. Being male, they actually had a chance to make partner with all the benefits (i.e., becoming a vampire). The few women who made partner only got to hold that exalted position just for their lifespan. They never got their names chiseled on buildings or placed on the stationery.
    There were a few wolf whistles from some construction workers on a nearby building. I decided to include myself in the whistles, because construction guys aren’t normally discriminating. I fall into the cute category, and that can be very disheartening when you’re surrounded by beautiful people. My dad says I have charisma, loads of it, but charisma only has practical application if you’re a politician or have power and want to wield it. I’m not the former, and don’t have the latter. All I have is a slim though short physique, jet black hair that I keep at chin length so it’s more comfortable under a riding helmet, and dark gray eyes.
    We reached the building. The doorman held the door and nodded respectfully to Ryan. We all trooped in after him, little human ducklings led by a raptor. Ryan closed his umbrella, and there was a scrum of people waiting at the elevators. Clashing scents of Coco Mademoiselle and Frédéric Malle and Chrome and even the occasional whiff of tobacco swirled around me. It was just dumb luck that left me alone on an elevator with Doug.
    Glances into his office had revealed diplomas from Harvard, and break room gossip had filled in a bit more. He came from an old Charleston family, and from a long line of lawyers. His suits were all Italian, and he’d been at pains to tell people he had his shoes made in London because he had such narrow feet. He was also going bald and tried to hide it.
    He leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator as we whizzed up seventy floors and my stomach dropped slowly toward my heels. Just as the elevator began decelerating, he suddenly drawled in his warm molasses accent, “I work for Gold. He blackballed you. You only got in because of your family connections. Have a nice day.”
    The doors opened and he stepped out.
    I was so shocked I just stood there and ended up riding the elevator back down to the lobby level. I