Big Law (25 page)

“I do,” she replied without hesitation.

I leaned into her. “Thanks, Kim. I can’t thank you enough for sticking by me through all of this.”

She fluttered her hand. “You’d do the same for me.”

We were both quiet for a moment. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was right. God, I hoped so.

“I’ll clean this up.” Kim broke the silence and began gathering the foil containers with the remains of our half-eaten dinner. “The last thing you need is for your apartment to smell like day-old sushi when you wake up.”

I tilted my head back against the couch and closed my eyes. A heavy exhaustion radiated down to my bones. My body was crying out for sleep, but my jittery, anxious mind refused to acquiesce, leaving me stuck in some kind of sleep purgatory. All of the peculiar things that had happened in the past year began floating around in my consciousness like tiny particles drifting through the air. Suddenly my mind reached out and held onto one of them. Our anniversary dinner. Our disastrous anniversary dinner. My eyes shot open. “Wait a second,” I breathed, frantically flipping through the papers fanned out on the coffee table before I found the spreadsheet with the timing of every trade.

Bingo.

I
SAT IN THE
refuge of my office, clutching the piece of paper still warm from the printer. Outside my door, the familiar morning noises buzzed, but all I could hear was the sound of my own breathing. I’d been awake most of the night, repeatedly running possible scenarios through my mind, ensuring I’d be prepared to introduce my piece of evidence at just the right moment. With adrenaline and caffeine coursing through my veins, I felt like a boxer before a bout. I just needed a trainer to mop my brow with a towel, and toss out a “go get ’em, champ.”

“They’re ready for ya’ in the conference room.” Rita’s voice blared over my intercom.

“Tell them I’m on my way.” I slipped the print-out into a manila folder and stood up. After taking one last deep breath, I walked past Rita’s cubicle, mouthed a silent “thank you,” and headed down the hall. I reached the marble elevator bank and pushed the down button. It wasn’t lost on me that someone had booked conference room 23A for this meeting, the largest in the office. I pressed the button for the twenty-third floor and leaned back against the wall, wondering how many people Mr. Clean had brought with him this time.

“Hold the door,” a shrill voice rang out as a red Louboutin pump poked through the gap, stopping the elevator doors in their tracks. Like a scene right out of a horror movie, the doors pulled back, slowly revealing Sarah, looking pressed and manicured. Even when
I was about to bring her down, she still somehow managed to show me up. “I presume we’re going to the same place,” she said, stepping inside and standing next to me.

“I presume so.” I matched her sharp tone.

We stood in silence, watching the numbers decrease as a sudden wave of unease washed over me. I held in my hand the piece of paper that would lead to my tormentor’s demise. “Sweet, sweet revenge,” Kim had called it. But standing next to her now, I realized I wasn’t going to take any joy in watching what was about to happen to her. A tiny part of me even felt sorry for her.

The doors dinged open and Sarah gestured for me to go first. Either she was feeling magnanimous or she wanted to be the first one to direct me towards the guillotine.

I decided to assume it was the former and stepped out.

“Dead man walking,” she mumbled. Of course it was the latter.

I whirled around. “Excuse me?”

She stepped off the elevator and burrowed her eyes in mine. “I’ve just been banned from the office for two days because of you.”

“Because of me? You’re delusional, Sarah.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You didn’t really think you were going to get away with all this, did you?”

I took a step towards her and felt every ounce of uneasiness drain from my body and anger, red hot fury, take its place. “That’s funny, Sarah, because I had the same question for you. But I’ll save you the time of considering your answer and let you in on a little secret.” I returned her full force eye contact and knew there was no way I was going to be the first to blink this time. “
You’re
not going to get away with it. And it’s going to be
me
, the person that you screwed over the most, who ensures
you
don’t.”

Shock and perhaps even fear flashed in her eyes, but her expression quickly reverted to her default look—brittle and smug. “We’ll see about that,” she spat.

“Yes. We will.”

We walked down the rest of the long corridor in silence. The only sound was our shoes pounding on the floor.

I changed my mind. This was going to be fun.

Mr. Clean was waiting for us at the door when we reached the conference room. “Ladies.” He gestured towards the enormous oak table in the middle of the room where three dark suited men I didn’t recognize were sitting next to Saul. “Please have a seat and let’s get started.”

My palms felt moist as I pulled out my chair. I briefly wished I’d taken Uncle Nigel up on his offer to come along today. If Mr. Clean had three grey suits on his side, I wanted at least one on mine. But having the evidence on my side was even better. I just needed to play this very carefully so I didn’t inadvertently expose Rita.

The grey suits muttered something to each other before Mr. Clean said, “Miss Corbett, let’s start with you.”

I nodded, clasping my hands on top of my manila folder.

He flipped open his legal pad and readied his pen. “The last time we spoke, I showed you a list of persons and entities that had short sold Falcon stock. You said that you didn’t know anybody on the list.”

I nodded assent.

“And that answer hasn’t changed, has it, Miss Corbett?”

“No.” I shook my head. Judging by his demeanor, Mr. Clean really did think he was starring in his own blockbuster legal thriller. I half expected him to point his finger at me and shout, “You can’t handle the truth!”

“I want to ask you a question about a company called Kerrisdale Inc. Are you familiar with that company?”

I drew a sharp breath in. I knew from the documents that Rita had obtained from the registrar that a company called Kerrisdale Inc. was the sole shareholder of Pemberton Corp., one of the seven companies that had short sold Falcon Stock, but I couldn’t find any information about Kerrisdale Inc. on the internet and it had been too late to have Rita get anything more from the registrar.

“Miss Corbett?” Mr. Clean repeated, his voice stern. “Are you familiar with Kerrisdale Inc.?”

Everyone in the room stared expectantly in my direction as a tiny bead of sweat trickled down the back of my neck. I cleared my throat. “No, I am not.”

Mr. Clean scratched something on his notepad.

“I’m passing you a list of the names of the directors and officers of Kerrisdale Inc.” He slid a piece of paper across the mahogany table. “Can you tell me if you recognize any individuals on that list?”

The grey suits mumbled to each other as I peered down at the list. My eyes stopped at a name in the middle of the page. Suddenly everything went quiet except for a dim ringing in my ears. Tapping my finger on the name for a moment, I tried to understand how he could be on this list. I swallowed hard. “I know Eddie Esposito. He’s my doorman. Uh,
was
my doorman,” I corrected myself, remembering the story that the old lady in 8H had told me. “Apparently one day he just didn’t show up to work,” she’d whispered to me by the mailboxes. “Never even picked up his last paycheck. I always
knew
he was shady.” She’d scrunched up her eyes and studied me carefully, presumably trying to decipher if I fell under the same umbrella.

The grey suits exchanged a pointed glance.

“Well, Miss Corbett, then we have a problem.” Mr. Clean whipped off his reading glasses and tossed them on the table. “Actually, YOU have a problem because Eddie Esposito and every other director of Kerrisdale Inc. has skipped the country. Can you tell me about your relationship with Eddie Esposito?”

“I didn’t have a relationship with him,” I sputtered.

“Okay, then, let me try this again. Did you ever knowingly or inadvertently pass confidential information on to Mr. Esposito?”

“No!” I had the sudden feeling that I was sitting in a witness box of a court room, looking over at the jury who were all shaking their heads solemnly, seemingly certain that I was guilty. This was not one of the scenarios I had prepared for last night. Somehow this meeting had gone terribly, terribly wrong. “Wait a minute,” I breathed, my muddled thoughts finally clearing. The evidence. Now was the time for the evidence. “
When
did Pemberton Corp. borrow the Falcon shares and sell them?”

“Friday, November 20th.”

“And when did they buy the Falcon shares from the market and return them to the broker?”

“After the public announcement on Monday, November 23rd. Making $273,000 in the process.”

“Then it
couldn’t
have been me. I didn’t know the Falcon deal had died on Friday. I was still working on the deal on Saturday.” I was speaking quickly now. “I remember because I had to come into work on my anniversary that Saturday night. And I worked all day Sunday on the deal.” I turned to Sarah just as the color drained from her face. “Sarah knows that. She’s the one that requested the work on Saturday night.” I pulled the print-out from the manila folder that I’d been clutching so hard my knuckles had turned white. “Here is an email from Sarah dated Saturday, November 21st giving me instructions to come into the office and complete some research related to the Falcon deal.”

Mr. Clean had the look of a goaltender who’d just been scored on in the final minute of the game. Saul, on the other hand, looked like the bookie who’d just lost a lot of money on the game and was now out for blood. “What is she talking about, Sarah?” His irate voice boomed.

“Mackenzie,” Sarah sputtered, her eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. “Don’t try to pin this on me. I only asked you to work on Saturday because—” Her voice was faltering as Saul’s angry eyes burrowed into her. She waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t even remember why. It was such a crazy deal and there was so much going on.” She swallowed hard. “And who cares if it was your anniversary? I don’t see how that’s relevant at all. He didn’t want to be there with you anyway. You’re … you’re … I see what you’re doing here. You’re trying to nail me to the wall and I know why, but it’s not going to work.”

Mr. Clean and the grey suits were staring curiously at Sarah now. She reminded me of a fish that had been dropped on the dock—thrashing about wildly, doing anything to find its way back to the water.

“I don’t know what you are trying to prove here, Mackenzie, but I do know I have NO idea who Eddie Esposito is.” She crossed her arms over her chest triumphantly.

I looked squarely at her, the truth in sharp focus now. “But Jason does.”

M
Y LEGS WERE TREMBLING
when I walked out of conference room 23A. I felt like I’d just been dangled over a balcony with my life on the line, only to be snatched back at the moment when I was about to fall. I’d survived. Barely.

“Mac, there’s … there’s someone in there,” Rita stammered as I passed by her cubicle, but my dazed mind didn’t catch up to what she’d said until I walked into my office and saw him standing there, leaning up against my book shelves like he somehow belonged here.

“What are you doing here?” I faltered.

“Mac,” Jason began, a pained expression on his face.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated with more force in my voice, surprising both of us. I always knew that this moment had to come at some point. Since the Sarah incident, I’d somehow managed to avoid being face to face with Jason. It really hadn’t required any effort, being that I was practically living in the war room, arriving at the office and leaving at times most people reserved for sleeping. He could’ve switched jobs sometime in the past three months and I would’ve had no idea. Unfortunately for me, he hadn’t.

“You okay in there, Mac?” Rita peered in.

I nodded. I’d just gone toe to toe with Mr. Clean. I could handle this.

“I need to talk to you,” Jason whispered, stepping around me and pushing my office door shut.

I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him as the room filled with a thick, tense silence. There was no way he could’ve known what had just happened in the meeting with Mr. Clean, so I was baffled as to why he was here in my office. A small part of me was actually curious what he was going to say. “So talk,” I said flatly.

“Listen, I heard that the SEC is questioning you about insider trading. Specifically about that deal you were working on with Saul. I
know
you didn’t do it, Mac. I know this because —” He hesitated, raking his hands through his hair as his expression grew more and more anguished.

I was stupefied. He had the look of a man who’d been carrying around a giant barbell on his back and was ready to finally relieve himself of the burden. Was he going to admit to me right now that it was
him
that the SEC should be questioning?

“Because …” I prompted. Despite already putting the pieces together and knowing that he was the one who had conspired with Eddie to trade on insider information, I suddenly needed to hear him admit it to me, face to face.

“Because I know that’s not the type of person you are, Mac. This job means everything to you and I just want to help you.” He jammed his hands in his pockets and started pacing around my office, avoiding eye contact. “You’ve worked so hard and I can’t let you go down like this.” He was rambling quickly now, uttering sentences like “lots of people would have access to this information” and “What about the cleaning lady?” For a moment I had the strangest feeling that I wasn’t really there in my office, but was instead watching the whole scene unfold from a seat in a movie theater. I wanted to stand up and throw popcorn at the screen and shout, “Of course it wasn’t
her
because it was
you
, you asshole!” I tuned back in to hear him say, “I really want to help you. Could I be some kind of alibi for you or something? I mean, I know you would never insider trade. You’re my rule follower.”

“I’m not your anything,” I snapped, taking a small pleasure in watching him flinch. Too bad I didn’t have a bag of popcorn to dump over his head.

He pinched the bottom of his nose a few times, a nervous habit that I used to find endearing, but now realized that it was actually pretty gross. “Look, I know when we were together we had our differences …”

I held up my hand to stop him. “Differences?” I choked out a humorless laugh. “If by ‘differences’ you mean you were screwing someone behind my back, then yes, I guess we had our differences.”

He looked at me with tears in his eyes and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I swear on my life I never meant to hurt you.”

Fury started to boil up inside me and I had to close my eyes to keep from screaming at him. After a moment, I opened them and looked at Jason,
really
looked at him. For the first time, I realized I’d been in love with someone who never truly existed. I was in love with the person I thought he was. I didn’t even know the person standing in front of me now. But I didn’t say any of that out loud. The last thing I wanted to do right now was have a discussion about our relationship. It was history. And he was about to get what he deserved. I reached over and opened the door, holding onto the handle so there would be no mistaking that our conversation was over.

“Okay. I’ll go,” he whispered, lowering his head like a dog being reprimanded.

“Jason?” I could hear my voice crack slightly.

He looked up and met my eyes.

I cleared my throat, surprised by the sudden lump. “You’re right. I would never insider trade. But when you get back to your office, you might want to give your lawyer a call because apparently
you
would.”

A wave of panic swept over his face before receding and being replaced with what looked like resignation. He gave a slight nod, as if agreeing with me, before turning to leave.

As I watched him walk out the door I gave the inside of my cheek a gentle bite. Jason was not going to get one more tear out of me.

Sarah was let go from F&D the next day. Staring down the barrel of being accused of insider trading, she confessed that she had con
fided in Jason that the Falcon deal was going to die before a public announcement was made. Since she was able to establish that she had no involvement in any of the other illegal trades that had occurred, Mr. Clean concluded that she’d inadvertently tipped Jason, meaning she wouldn’t face any legal charges. F&D had not been as forgiving, though. Sarah had breached client confidentiality by giving away material information to someone not involved in the deal. They agreed not to turn the matter over to the Bar Association, which would mean that she would most likely lose her license to practice law, if she agreed to sign an agreement relinquishing any claim to severance.

Jason’s departure from F&D was not as discreet. “All Directions Point to Jail for Son of GPS Mogul,” screamed
The New York Post
. According to media reports, Jason had managed to arrange trades in public companies using important deal information not yet known to the public on at least eight deals during his time at F&D. He’d find out what deals were impending then feed the information to Eddie and the other directors of Kerrisdale Inc. Through Pemberton Corp., Kerrisdale Inc. would then buy the shares with an online brokerage account before an acquisition was announced. Once the shares jumped, another trade was made and the shares were sold at a handsome profit. Kerrisdale Inc. and Jason would split the profits down the middle. Most of the time the consortium of Jason’s misfits and acquaintances made money on a stock rising, but in the case of Falcon, they reversed it and made money as the stock sharply decreased on the bad news that no deal was going to happen. The scheme was stunning in its simplicity.

I tried to pinpoint the exact time when Eddie and Jason had formed their partnership. Maybe it was on the day I’d moved in, when Eddie had helped Jason navigate my dresser into the elevator. I pictured Jason slipping him a fifty and saying “there’s plenty more where that came from.” Or maybe it was Eddie who’d approached Jason, convincing him that there was an easier way for him to make his mark. I decided to stop reading the papers and torturing myself with the details, though. I was on to bigger and better things.

Even a petrifying meeting with the SEC couldn’t distract me from my ambition. If anything, the fear of having F&D pulled out from
underneath me made me more motivated, more fixated on the final goal. I was back in my office early Friday morning, wanting to prove to myself and the firm that this loyal F&D foot soldier could survive an ambush attack.

It was just before noon on Friday when Rita popped her head into my office. “Glad to have you back, strange-ah. Ben Girardi wants to see you in his aww-fice.” She crossed her arms over her chest, smiling knowingly. It was still two weeks until the typical time the StarCorp secondment is announced, but if Rita was smiling she must know something I didn’t. Rita was plugged into everything around here.

“Thanks, Rita. Tell him I’ll be right there.”

“Good thinkin’, Mac. Make
him
wait for you after all the shit they pulled.” She winked and pulled the door closed behind her.

I smoothed my hair with my hands, pushed my chair back, and began the walk down the carpeted corridor to Ben’s office. I’d done this walk so many times, bleary eyed and anxious. Today, it felt like I was striding down the red carpet. Any moment Joan Rivers was going to call out, “Mackenzie Corbett, who are you wearing?” It was time to collect my prize.

Ben’s secretary stood up to greet me when I reached his office. “Great to see you again, Mackenzie. Ben’s just finishing up a call, but asked me to have you wait.”

“No problem.” I smiled, my eyes focused on the inspirational calendar pinned next to her computer. A sunset shot of a well-muscled woman standing at the top of a mountain, with her hands on her knees, taking in the panoramic view.
With great sacrifice comes great reward,
it read. All of the times I’d disappointed my family or canceled plans with Kim at the last minute. Every time I’d been humiliated by Saul or been rendered so thick-tongued with exhaustion that I slurred my words. It would all be worth it now. It had to be.

“Looks like he’s ready to see you now,” Ben’s secretary sing-songed, interrupting my thoughts.

I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and entered Ben’s office.

“Good morning, Mackenzie.” He smiled, revealing a charmingly small dimple in his cheek. How is it that I’d never noticed that before?
I had the sudden realization that this was probably the first genuine smile I’d witnessed on Ben’s face. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.

“Mackenzie,” he began, “there is nothing more important to an employer than loyalty. If there is a silver lining to the recent unfortunate events, it’s that we were able to trim some fat, leaving us with only the juicy meat.”

I nodded uncertainly. Was I the juicy meat in this scenario?

“You’ve done some excellent work for the firm.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, pleased that we were moving away from the steak analogy.

“We usually wait until after Memorial Day to make these decisions. But given the circumstances, I wanted to break with tradition and reward your loyalty.” Ben looked down at his folded hands.

My heart was pounding. It was like Ben standing on the stage, clad in a tuxedo, taking his time to open the envelope and announce the winner.
And the Oscar goes to …

“Mackenzie, we’d like to award you the StarCorp secondment.”

Yes! Yes! Yes!
I did my best humble, surprised face. I felt like I was making my way to the stage, giving a few high fives and posing for a selfie with Ellen on my way up.

I didn’t need any notes. My speech was memorized. “I’m really grateful for this vote of confidence, Ben. I look forward to expanding my skills at StarCorp. The learning experience will be invaluable and I’ll surely be a better lawyer because of it.”

He stood up and came around the desk, clapping me on the shoulder. “I know you’ll knock their socks off at StarCorp. And when you return, you’ll be ready to put your nose back to the grindstone.”

I wanted to respond, but my voice wouldn’t cooperate. Suddenly it felt like I had the weight of a grand piano on my chest. All the blood was rushing from my head. The room needed to stop spinning or I was going to throw up. I’d only experienced this feeling one time before, but I knew what it was right away. I was having an anxiety attack.

Ben was still smiling at me, completely oblivious to the hurricane swirling inside me.

Somehow I managed a barely audible, “Thank you.”

With wobbling legs, I walked out of the Death Star. “You headed out for a celebratory lunch, Mac?” Rita had asked when she saw me minutes after my meeting with Ben, purse slung over my shoulder headed to the elevator. I’d nodded, not exactly sure where I was headed. All I knew for sure was that I needed fresh air.