The Partner Track: A Novel (34 page)

Adler looked back at me. He seemed to be sizing me up, trying to decide something for himself. Murph took advantage of Adler’s uncertainty to pounce on me.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Ingrid,” he hissed, rattling the printout at me.

Justin cleared his throat. He said, very quietly but clearly, “I saw you, man. It was really late, and I saw you waiting for us to finish working on the term sheet, log out, and leave for the night. That’s what made me think it might have been you.”

Adler was looking intently at Justin; something seemed to solidify in his expression. He turned back to Murph. “Well?”

Panic flickered in Murph’s eyes, but his expression quickly reverted to outrage and disbelief. He cursed softly under his breath. Then he turned back to Adler, who was kneading his forehead between thumb and forefinger.

“Marty, listen to me,” said Murph. He was struggling to keep his voice level. “You don’t actually believe this, do you? You’re telling me you’re going to believe what this—this fucking
kid,
who’s been here
three months,
has to say over what
I’m
telling you? I swear I have no idea what he’s up to with this, Marty.”

Adler sighed. “Justin has no reason to make any of this up.”

Murph let out a caustic laugh. “How do you know that?” he spat out. “For all we know, she’s been sleeping with
him,
too, along with half the firm!”

Justin’s face flushed, from either anger or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell.

“Now that’s
enough,
” boomed Adler.

I was so angry I was actually shaking. I couldn’t believe I’d been taken in by Murph’s act. I’d been more than taken in. I’d been swallowed whole.

Justin spoke up again, in a louder and steadier voice. “I saw you, man.”

Murph turned and looked at Justin incredulously. He opened and closed his mouth, and his bottom lip was trembling.

Adler sighed. “Murph, I’m afraid I’ll have to speak to the rest of the Management Committee about this matter. You know that. And you know what that means, don’t you.”

Game over. I had rightly gambled that when it came down to Marty Adler having to side with either Justin or Murph, Murph didn’t have a chance. Just as I hadn’t stood a chance against Murph on my word alone, neither of us had stood a chance against Hunter. In the hierarchy of influence at Parsons Valentine, everything was relative.

Adler actually looked sad as he continued, “Murph, I think it’s best if you take the rest of today off while we investigate this matter. If you leave quietly right now, without making a scene, there’ll be absolutely no need for me to get Security involved.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Security?
” Murph erupted. “This is bullshit!”

“Murph, please,” Adler said. “Let’s try to be reasonable and fair here. Let’s not make this any more difficult than it has to be.”

“Fair?” Murph whirled around and pointed at me. “
Fair?
You think I didn’t see what was going on? You think I didn’t know that Hunter was in and Ingrid was next?” He barked out another laugh. “She’s a woman,
and
a minority. I didn’t stand a goddamn chance. You think that’s fucking
fair
?
”

“You’re not leaving me with any choice here, Murph,” Adler said, picking up the phone. “Yes, I need two officers from Security up here right away, please.”

Murph paced around the room, ranting under his breath. Justin, Adler, and I stared at him. None of us moved.

Finally Murph turned and stared at me, shaking his head, those green eyes flashing in anger and disbelief, lips peeled back in a snarl. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

I looked at him straight on. And I was sad to find that there was utterly nothing left of the Murph I thought I knew. We were strangers to each other.

“I know exactly who I am.” I added, more softly, “It’s you I’d worry about.”

Adler beckoned to the two beefy security guards who’d appeared in his doorway and tilted his head toward Murph. “I’d be grateful if you would please escort this gentleman from the building.”

Murph shot me one last cutting look before jerking his arm away from the security guard who’d tried to take his elbow. “You can bet your ass you’ll be hearing from my employment lawyer, Marty,” he tossed back at Adler as the two guards steered him out of the office and down the hall.

As soon as Murph was out of sight, Adler walked silently to the door and closed it. He sighed and turned back around to me. “Ingrid,” he said solemnly.

I drew up my shoulders and flashed Marty Adler a magnanimous smile. I breathed in luxuriously. I had waited for this moment. I was prepared to be gracious. I would take the high road. I was going to accept the firm’s apology. It was going to be fun to see Adler grovel a bit.

“Ingrid,” Adler repeated.

I waited.

“It occurs to me that the firm is now going to need someone to close the SunCorp deal as the acquisition moves into its next stage. Of course, in light of the circumstances, I think we’ll be able to reinstate you immediately to your old associate position.”

That was it?
After everything that had happened, that was all he had to say? No apology, no
we’re sorry we ever doubted you
? No
how can you ever forgive us?
No getting down on his knees and groveling at all?

Well, once again, and for the very last time, I had overestimated them. This time, though, it was okay. It made me feel better about what I was going to do next.

I smiled sweetly. “Oh,
thank
you, Marty.”

Justin whipped his head around, looking incredulously at me.

“But,” I continued, “I don’t think you’re going to need anyone to handle SunCorp anymore after all.”

Adler laughed. “What are you talking about? Of course we do. First we’ve got to file ASAP for Hart-Scott-Rodino, then after we finally
get
regulatory approval, it’ll be time for us to prepare the next round of—”

“It’s definitely time for
someone
to file for regulatory approval,” I agreed, then said, slowly shaking my head, “but it’s not going to be Parsons Valentine.”

“What in the world are you talking about, Ingrid?” Marty Adler whipped his little round glasses off his face and blinked angrily at me.

“I’m just saying,” I replied, in a perfectly cool and calm voice, “that I understand SunCorp has decided to take its legal business somewhere else.

“You see,” I continued, opening my handbag and passing him the
Wall Street Journal
clipping, “Ted Lassiter was very appreciative when I let him know about the potential offshore drilling reforms that are going to be voted on shortly in both houses of Congress. If the bill passes, the current seventy-five-million-dollar cap on liability for offshore oil spills goes away. Private companies are going to be on the hook for
everything.
And you know what that means, right?”

Marty Adler continued to blink furiously at me, wordlessly opening and closing his mouth, like a hooked fish.

“It means that would trigger the MAC clause. And that might very well mean having to pay the breakup fee. And since that’s set at five percent of the purchase price…”

Adler looked heavenward, frantically doing the math.

“… that would mean a hefty forty-nine-million-dollar fee to back out of the deal. Ted Lassiter was
extremely
grateful for my advising him of all this. And even more surprised that his current counsel hadn’t mentioned a thing about it.”

Adler started to sputter. “You poached
SunCorp
? You ungrateful little—”

“Ungrateful?” I cocked my head to one side and smiled. “I like to think of it as
my
little breakup fee from the firm. I’m walking away, Marty.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” Adler scoffed. “I’m going to have you disbarred so fast your head’ll spin. Have you forgotten about a pesky little thing called the New York Rules of Professional Conduct? Using a client’s confidential information after you’ve left the employ of your former firm is—”

“Perfectly legal,” I finished. “Not to go all Perry Mason on your ass, Marty, but let me refer you to Rule 1.9(c)(1), which provides that a lawyer who has formerly represented a client may not thereafter use the client’s confidential information
to the disadvantage
of the former client. I think even you would have to agree—and I
know
Ted Lassiter certainly does—that it was to his distinct advantage for me to warn him about a potential forty-nine-million-dollar breakup fee. Not only that, but I didn’t have to use any confidential information. I know that print media’s supposed to be a dying beast and all, but I don’t believe that a
Wall Street Journal
article qualifies as confidential information just yet.”

Adler’s face was bright red. He slammed a fist down on his desk, hard. He was making ineffectual little spitting sounds. Finally he closed his eyes for a beat. When he opened them a moment later, he said in a tight, strained voice, “Ingrid, let’s … let’s neither of us do anything rash. Let’s just both take a moment to calm down here. I think I speak for the entire partnership when I say that, under the circumstances, we would be very willing to reconsider your partnership bid immediately, instead of deferring you any longer. Just come back to the firm. You can keep SunCorp here with us.
You
will be the relationship partner on it, I promise.
You’ll
get all the credit for keeping them here.”

“How thoughtful of you, Marty.” I picked up my handbag and went to the door. “But I wouldn’t come back to this firm if you made me managing partner.”

As I turned my back on Marty Adler, I looked over at Justin and widened my eyes at him.
Thank you.
Justin was grinning at me in open admiration as he followed me out the door.

TWENTY-FOUR

Murph was quietly let go the next day. Since the firm could not officially establish an unethical motivation for Murph accessing the document, his employment lawyer managed to negotiate a settlement whereby the firm agreed to give him a generally positive reference, and both parties agreed to a perpetual confidentiality and nondisparagement clause. With a decent reference from Parsons Valentine & Hunt LLP, Murph could start over at another firm, no problem—perhaps even as Of Counsel or a lateral partner. He was going to be fine. The Murphs of the world would always be fine.

But, as I was finally learning, so would I.

I had worked too hard for too long, and was too good at my job, to give up on my end goal—that is, not to pass Go and collect that final Inoculating Mark. It might have been naive to think that becoming the first minority woman partner at an esteemed international firm would make me immune to the subtle forms of racism and sexism that still enraged me—that success would thicken my skin—but I’ve never been able to give up on an ideal very easily.

I realized that, ultimately, someone had to try. Someone’s always got to be the first one to do anything, after all. And I was never going to win as long as I continued to play by other people’s rules. Instead, more of us needed to get into the business of making them up for ourselves.

The day after my story got reported in the
Wall Street Journal—
along with the business section of the
Times,
the
New York Law Journal,
Salon, Slate, Gawker, even a wittily observed “Talk of the Town” item in the following week’s
New Yorker
—that is to say, the day I got my reputation back, the job offers began pouring in. And once they began to flow, they did not stop. By the end of that week alone, I had offers from nine other huge corporate firms in the city—every single one of Parsons Valentine’s top competitors, along with calls from both
Fortune
and
Forbes,
who wanted to know whether I was granting interviews.

It was, of course, a very smart move for Parsons Valentine’s competitors to make me an offer. An astonishingly easy PR win for one lucky firm—just by giving me a job, they’d get automatic credit for being the enlightened, twenty-first-century-thinking firm that took in the very darlingest of all the Minority Darlings, at the same time adding a talented young lawyer to their ranks. It had never been in question how hard I was going to work. Or, ultimately, that my work was of “partnership caliber.”

Tyler Robinson called to congratulate me on all the job offers. I congratulated him back. Tyler had given notice the week after I was fired. The timing made it look like a protest on my behalf, but what had really happened was that an in-house job offer had materialized for him at last, and Tyler was now general counsel of a successful investment fund.

The only offer of employment I even considered for a moment, though, came a few days after my public acquittal. I got home, flushed and sweaty, from a morning run in Central Park—a new habit I’d had time to cultivate since leaving the firm—to find Dennis handing me a lush arrangement of a dozen red roses. “These just arrived for you,” he said. “Secret admirer?”

I plucked the tiny cream envelope from among the blooms and read it right there in the lobby.

Slugger:

Heard you’ve recently become a free agent. How about coming to play on our team? I still want the right lawyer running this, as you were all along. Just say the word.

—Ted

I smiled at Dennis. “Not so secret, actually,” I said.

I went straight upstairs to my apartment and called Ted Lassiter.

“I’m flattered, Ted, really I am. And yes, I’d still be delighted to close the Binney deal for you and SunCorp. But here’s the thing—I don’t think I’m ready to go back to working for somebody else.”

“This will be different,” he said. “It won’t be like it was at the firm.”

I hesitated. I thought about what Murph had said, about why Adler had wanted me at the SunCorp beauty pageant in the first place. “Tell me something,” I said.