“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“One of our attorneys just won a huge case,” he explained, “so everyone is out celebrating.”
I wanted to ask why he didn't join them, but I thought better of it.
He showed me the offices of his two associates, but he didn't take me inside any of themâwe just peeked in.
“This one,” he said, “is Taylor Covington's. She handles law briefs and motions. And this one is Morris Thomas's. He's our top litigator.”
He did take me into his own office, which was very different from his office on campus. His degrees were hanging on the wall behind his desk, and two huge bookcases lined the side walls. One case was totally filled with books, and the other had books, awards, and photographs. His desk looked work-heavy but tidy.
“Nice office,” I admired.
“Thanks.”
My own workspace was an open cubicle just outside his office.
So much for catching up on Facebook during the day.
When I got to my desk, there was a bag of peanut M&Ms sitting there. I turned to look at him.
“Welcome,” he said with a warm smile.
“Thank you,” I said, amazed that he'd remembered my weakness for M&Ms.
“I will give you some time to settle in. I've got a few phone calls to make,” he said as he disappeared into his office.
I looked around the floor again. I made my way back to the kitchen, the copy room, and peeked into a couple of the offices for a second time.
When he came out, he said, “I apologize for taking so long. I thought I would be quick. Everyone should be back in about an hour, so you can stay around to meet them if you like, or wait until your official first day.”
“I guess I can meet everybody tomorrow. On my official first day,” I smiled.
“Sounds good to me,” he said.
“Good.”
“Are you nervous?”
“Yeah, a little. I don't think I've ever even been in a law office before. It never occurred to me that I would be working in one.”
“Why not?”
“Why haven't I ever been in a law office?”
“No. Why didn't you ever think you would work in one?”
“I don't know . . . Maybe because lawyers have a bad reputation. Just kidding!”
“Yeah, I guess we do.”
I let it go at that.
“I won't miss those phones from the office,” I said. “Those people drove me crazy.”
He smiled.
“You'll definitely be missed around there.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, yeah. Especially by Professor Klein. I feel lucky that I still have you working for me.”
“Thanks. That's nice of you to say.”
“I mean it. Are you hungry? I'm sorry for taking up so much of your time. Let me feed you,” he offered.
“Oh, no,” I said. “You didn't take up my evening. This was fine. Some other time, though. Thanks. My mom's not feeling well, so I have to cook for the family tonight.”
“Some other evening?”
“Um, yeah, that would be nice.”
The next day was my actual first day at work. I arrived fifteen minutes early, but I didn't have to use the key Jeff had given me, because somebody had already unlocked the door. I walked past the empty reception desk. When I got to my own station, an older woman was standing there.
“You must be Anaya,” she said with a warm smile. She was heavyset but well proportioned. Her big puffy hair had gray streaks, and her eyebrows were penciled in as black as they could be. Her flower-print dress, black blazer, and patent leather pumps made her look more like a librarian than a legal secretary. I suddenly felt underdressed.
“Yes,” I said, “Anaya Goode.”
“Jeff speaks very highly of you. We've all been waiting for you to get here. I'm Shirley Moore.” She was still smiling.
I blushed.
What has he been saying about me to these people?
To change the subject, I asked, “How long have you been working here?”
“I was Jeff's secretary at a firm in San Francisco, and when he left to start this one, five years ago, he asked me to come with him, and I've been here ever since.”
“Oh, okay,” I replied, not knowing exactly what else to say.
“You want me to fix you some fruit?”
“Oh, no, I ate something already. Thank you.”
“All right, just let me know. There's plenty for everybody. No sense in walking around hungry.”
Just then, a pretty woman in an expensive-looking teal suit walked up to us.
“Good morning, Taylor,” Shirley said.
The woman, who was about five-foot-eight, had long auburn hair. I tried to figure out her ethnicity. She didn't seem very happy to see me.
Give her a chance, Ny.
“Taylor,” Shirley said, “this is Anaya Goode, the case clerk Jeff told us about.”
I extended my hand, and she let me shake hers, which felt like a dead fish. Without saying another word, she walked into her office and shut the door behind her.
“It takes Taylor a little while to warm up,” a male voice boomed behind me.
When I turned to face the man, he said, “I'm Morris Thomas.
You must be Anaya. We've heard a lot of great things about you.”
He extended a huge hand toward me.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Thomas.”
“Morris. Please call me Morris.”
He made small talk for a little while, punctuating his comments with a loud laugh, and then told me how he had been working there ever since Jeff started the firm. Eventually, he excused himself and went to his office.
A few minutes later, a young woman in her early twenties walked up to my desk. She was stylish in an over-the-top kind of way, with long swooping bangs, huge hoop earrings, and dark red lipstick.
“Welcome, girl!” she said.
“Thanks.”
“I'm Octavia, the receptionist. If you ever have any questions or concerns, come see me, okay?”
“Okay,” I said, getting overwhelmed already trying to remember everyone's name.
By midday, I knew I was going to enjoy working at that firm. Aside from Taylor, I had a good feeling about everyone there. I also liked the aroma of coffee that lingered through the office all day because Shirley kept the machine cranked.
“We haven't given you much to do today,” Shirley said. “The firm likes to break newbies in with a good impression before burying them in work.” She laughed.
“It's okay,” I said. “I was always busy at my last job. Makes the time go by faster.”
“That's a good way to look at it.”
By noon, Jeff hadn't come in yet, which was just as well, because I wanted to get used to the office without being distracted by his presence. I put a few pictures of Catie, Sophie, Andrew, Mom, and Roscoe on a shelf near my desk. I dusted and rearranged the drawers. I put out my personal rolodex, along with a small bear figurine that Andrew gave me on my sixteenth birthday. The words printed on its belly were
You are special.
Around 11:30 a.m., Octavia, the receptionist, invited me to lunch at a nearby Friday's. My first impulse was to decline, but I decided not to step on any toes, especially on my first day. When lunchtime rolled around at 1 p.m., she sent me an e-mail, asking me to meet her at her desk.
When we got outside, she pointed to her car at the curb and said, “I'll drive if you like.” As I climbed in her car, she asked, “So, who was in the office when you got there this morning?”
“Shirley.”
“Oh. Did she offer you something to eat?”
“Yes.”
“That's Shirley for you. She prays for everybody and feeds everybody. She's cool.”
“Yeah, she is. She showed me around the office today. She's really thorough.”
When we got to the restaurant, we were seated immediately. Octavia ordered a root beer and glanced around as if she were waiting for somebody. Then she started talking. Without having to ask any questions about my new coworkers, I found out more information than I ever wanted to know. Octavia didn't hold anything back. I don't think the word
discretion
was a part of her vocabulary.
“Shirley's a Holy Roller, and her oldest son is gay. She doesn't know it, but the rest of the world does.”
“Mmm,” I replied. I didn't want to be rude, but I didn't want to pretend to be too interested, either. “What do you think you wanna eat?” I asked her.
“I don't know.”
I pretended to study the menu, since I wasn't sure what to say.
“What's up with Taylor?” I finally asked.
Octavia rolled her eyes and took a deep breath.
“She's cool when you get to know her, but she gives a bad first impression. Like she needs to prove how much of a bitch she can be. She's got some issues with her looks, I guess.” Octavia sipped her root beer as she pushed her long bangs out of her eyes. “Personally, I don't know why she's got a chip on her shoulder. She looks like Halle Berry, gets paid a bundle, and she's smart as a whip. I don't know why she's so insecure.”
“Really?” I said. “Taylor seemed to me to be a lot of things, but insecure certainly wasn't one of them.”
“Girl, yes! It's always gorgeous ones that have those stupid issues. I don't really know the entire story, so don't quote me. I just overheard something about the women in her Black lawyer group not inviting her to events, or something like that. I don't really know.”
“Wait. Why is she in a Black lawyer group?”
“What do you mean?”
“I'm just wonderingâis she part black?”
“The way she tells it, she's one hundred and ten percent black. And she's pretty proud of it, too. Have you been in her office yet?”
“No.”
“Go in there, and check out the picture of her parents: midnight and dusk of dawn, girl. They are d
ark!
I don't know how she turned out to be so light-skinned. It's a trip, huh?”
“I thought she was Latina.”
“Everybody does.”
“Is she rude to you, Octavia?”
“Nope. Taylor knows I'll light her ass up if she gets to acting a fool. She might be moody, but she ain't stupid. We had one altercation since I've been working there, and she hasn't given me a problem since. Like I said, she's a smart girl.”
We both laughed.
“So, how do you know Jeff?” she asked.
I choked on my food and started coughing.
Couldn't you have handled the question better than that, dummy?
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What do I
mean
? I mean, he's the one who hired you, right?”
“Yes. I worked for him in the faculty office at the University.”
“He still teaches there?”
“Yeah,” I said, surprised that she didn't know.
“Oh, I thought he would have given up that job by now. He doesn't have time. I don't know how his wife puts up with it.”
All my radars were suddenly activated.
“Yeah,” I said, trying not to sound too interested. “I guess he works a lot, huh?”
“Hell, yeah, he does. Works nights, weekends, all that.”
“Wow,” I said.
What else? What else?
“He's nice, though. You couldn't have picked a better boss if you tried. He must really like you, 'cause he never hires people without letting the other partners interview them first.”
I didn't say anything.
“You must have made quite the impression on him at that faculty office, girlfriend.” She winked at me.
“I guess.”
“Sooo,” Octavia whistled, “because I've given you the scoop on almost everybody else, let me give you the four-one-one on
moi
.” She winked again. “I have a son, and I'm working my way through college. It's a slow process but, hey, slow and steady wins the race, right?”
“Sure,” I nodded.
“Anyway, I'm a vegetarian and lifelong foster child. Never knew my parents or any of my natural relatives. I'm a survivor. Oh, and I'm single.”
“Single seems to be the new epidemic,” I said. I wondered what it was like not to have any relatives and why she was giving me full disclosure on her life.
“Are you single, too?”
I nodded.
“Why don't you have a boyfriend?”
I sighed. “I don't know. I haven't really put any time into a relationship, I guess. I have a friend, though.”
“Oh, a friend. I have three of those.” She winked again. “None are boyfriend or marriage material. Hell, one of 'em ain't even
friend
material, but I keep him around anyway. Why do we hang on to guys we know don't mean us any good? Why do we intentionally ignore the warning signs and just keep sticking in there?”
“
That
is the million-dollar question,” I said, holding my glass up in a mock toast.
“I guess it is,” she said. “Are you going to law school?”
“No.”
“Really? That's interesting. Everybody else who's had your position left the firm to go to law school. Where do you live?”
“Maxwell Park, with my parents.”
“I would never have guessed you lived over there. One of my girlfriends lives over there. I thought you were from Piedmont.”
Piedmont?
“Why did you think I'm from Piedmont?” I asked, giving her the crazy eyebrow look she had been giving me.
“You just seem so . . . I don't know . . . mature and straight. Piedmont-ish.”
I almost spit out my water.
Mature and straight? Piedmont-ish?
“That's not a bad thing or anything, Anaya,” Octavia recovered fast. “You just seem different from other women I hang out with.”
Thank God for the little things.
“We better get back to work,” I said, looking at my watch. “Lunch was nice, Octavia. Thanks.”
“Girl, no problem.”
I didn't know what to make of Octavia just yet. I knew I'd keep her as a friend, though. She seemed to have a lot of valuable information. Information that could make this transition that much easier for me. I wasn't too big on the whole gossipy thing because we all know if someone gossips with you, they will gossip about you. I made a mental note to keep Miss Octavia at a safe, but friendly distance.