Riding the Corporate Ladder (Indigo) (9 page)

Deena narrowed her eyes.

Bruce cleared his throat. “You know what you do,” he said. “I don’t have to repeat it.”

Deena was so upset she could have wrung his smug little neck right then. “I don’t do anything here but work my ass off,” she said. “I deserve everything I’ve ever gotten, and you know it.”

“You’ve never worked a murder trial before,” Bruce countered. “How do you figure you deserve that case more than I do?”

“Well, what about your first murder?” Deena replied. “I’m sure there were people around who had more experience than you, but someone still gave you a shot.”

He shook his head. “Don’t try to turn it around on me. You’re not innocent, and you know it.”

“Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind,” Deena suggested.

Her colleague crossed his arms over his chest and considered things before speaking.

“Okay,” he said. “I think you and Mr. Murray have been sleeping together.” He shrugged. “There, I said it.”

Deena actually slept with four attorneys at the firm, three directors and almost one of the partners—most of them multiple times, but Bruce didn’t have direct knowledge of any of that and she knew it.

“Is any of this based on facts, or are you just talking out the side of your neck?”

Bruce leaned back in his seat and smirked. “I know you, Deena.”

She didn’t like the way he said that at all. This man never had more than a ten minute conversation with her. They never went out and certainly weren’t close.

“You don’t know me.”

“Oh, I don’t? I was here when you got your first job as Mr. Murray’s paralegal,” he reminded her. “I know all about those late nights you and him worked together. I know about the special attention he gives you. I’ve seen how he personally looks after your career, makes sure you get bumped up every chance he gets.”

Deena cracked a smile and chuckled softly. “That’s what you know?”

He nodded. “If I’m a liar, then say so.”

“Yeah, you are,” she said with the straightest face she could muster. “ ’Cause first off, I didn’t get my first job here as Shelton’s paralegal. I started off as a temp. I worked for Regency, and the first job they got me was as a switchboard operator on the first floor.”

Bruce listened, but his expression didn’t change.

“And my second job,” Deena went on, “was as a file clerk, and I worked for Mrs. DeLeon then. Do you think I slept with her, too?”

Bruce had to shake his head because Mrs. DeLeon retired four years ago at the ripe age of sixty-eight. She was a prude her whole time at the firm, and everyone knew it.

“Mrs. DeLeon is the one who suggested I go to school,” Deena informed him. “She’s the one who helped me with my first batch of papers for the employee education program, and she’s the one I turned to when I got overwhelmed with my classes.”

Bruce opened his mouth and then closed it without speaking.

“When I finally did get to work as Mr. Murray’s clerk,” Deena went on, “I busted my ass and impressed that man every day I was with him. I took classes at night and stayed up till three doing homework sometimes, but you can bet I was here every morning at seven a.m. sharp.

“I did all of the discovery work for the Mead trial. I’m the one who found those witnesses for the Harris case. Mr. Murray didn’t have to do anything but sit on his butt and stack my papers. I impressed that man every day—way before I became a paralegal.

“And for the record, most of the time when I stayed late, I did it by myself. Mr. Murray has a wife and kids and likes to get home by six, if you didn’t know. He left me here alone, night after night, because he knew that if I was on the job, everything was going to be ready when he showed up the next morning—that’s the kind of confidence I inspired. I did the Ozark case all by myself. I took care of Southwest Mutual, McCready, the Loftin Group. I did it all, by myself.

“So when I passed the bar, yeah, you can best believe I deserved everything that came my way. No one’s showing me any favoritism. Mr. Murray trusts me because I never let him down. He promotes me because I’m good at what I do. I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but you’d better check my résumé before you make a stupid-ass comment like that about me. I deserve the Blood Money account and much more. I deserve it all.”

Bruce was surprised, to say the least. He studied her face, and then looked away uneasily. When he finally replied, Deena already knew what he would say.

“I-I’m sorry, Deena. I was wrong. Can you please forgive me?”

He was right to begin with, so Deena didn’t prolong his discomfort. “It’s all right, Bruce. I’m a woman in a man’s world; I deal with rumors like that all the time.”

He shook his head. “Maybe so, but it’s not right, especially from me. There aren’t a lot of colored faces around here, and we shouldn’t be at each other’s throats.”

Deena liked his change of heart, but it also made her feel guilty.

“Maybe you can give me some advice on this record company,” she offered. “You did a great job with the Gentry case. Even his mama thought he was going to jail.”

Bruce smiled. “Thanks. I did have to work a little magic with that one. Listen, I’m here anytime you need me, Deena. I would love to work with you.”

Deena’s mind immediately went to the bedroom, and she was acutely aware of how twisted her thought process was. Surely that wasn’t always the first thing in her head.

She thanked Bruce and headed back to her work area with an odd feeling in her gut. When she got there, she stopped at her secretary’s desk and asked Karen to come into her office for a little heart to heart.

* * *

“I just talked to Bruce,” Deena said as she rounded her desk.

Karen immediately looked apprehensive. “Was he…upset?”

“He said I got the Blood Money account because I’m sleeping with Shelton,” Deena announced casually. She turned and gave her friend a look. “What do you think about that?”

Karen’s eyes grew large. She took an awkward seat in the chair across from her boss’s desk and looked around uneasily.

Today the secretary wore a long dress that was loose and unflattering, exposing no legs or cleavage. She had her hair pulled back and her glasses sitting high on her nose. Karen was a puritan, and Deena knew she’d get an objective opinion from her—well, she would if she got any response at all. Karen looked down at her hands, at the carpet, out the window, and anywhere else her boss wasn’t.

Deena plopped down in her executive chair and laughed. “Girl, what’s wrong with you?”

Karen shrugged. “Nuh-nothing.”

“Well then, tell me what you think.” Deena leaned back and crossed her legs.

“About what Bruce said?”

Deena rolled her eyes. “Girl, you can talk to me. I’m not going to fire you.”

But Karen was still unsure about giving her two cents. “I, um, I guess I can kinda see why he might think that…”

Deena sat up with a start. “What? Why, you little Judas! Clean that shit out of your desk and get the hell out of here!”

Karen’s jaw dropped.

Deena’s did, too, but she was laughing. “I’m just kidding,” she said. “Loosen up. Don’t be so uptight.”

Her secretary’s expression didn’t immediately return to normal, but she chuckled nervously. “That was…that was a good one, Miss Newman.”

“Okay, now tell me what you think.”

“About…about Bruce?”

Deena eyes narrowed.

“I…I, um,” Karen looked down at her hands again. “You do, I mean you did sleep with Mr. Murray, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but it’s been a while,” Deena said nonchalantly.

“I…I think Bruce thinks maybe you shouldn’t sleep with your boss at all,” Karen offered.

Deena rubbed her chin. “What’s your opinion?”

Karen shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it does kinda look like Mr. Murray shows you favoritism sometimes.”

“Because I sleep with him?”

“You slept with him more than once?”

Deena nodded. “About half a dozen times.”

Karen coughed and put a hand to her mouth.

“So,” Deena asked, “do you think I got the Blood Money account because I slept with him, or because I deserved it?”

“I think that’s the problem,” Karen said.

“What’s that?”

“The fact that you have to ask. If you weren’t sleeping with him, then everyone would know you deserved it. But since you are, people don’t know for sure. I think that’s why Bruce got mad.”

Deena nodded. “That’s exactly right. See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Um, no,” Karen said, but she still didn’t look comfortable.

“Let me ask you this,” Deena said. “What do you think Mr. Fogarty thought of me when he first walked into my office?”

“The Fizz Cola guy?”

“Yeah.”

Karen shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” Deena said. “He walked in here thinking, What the hell is this? I represent Fizz Cola—a multibillion dollar corporation—and they give me a woman? A black woman, at that? Where’s Reagor? Where’s Crawford? Where’s Epstein? I don’t want this lady!”

Karen giggled at Deena’s impersonation.

“He didn’t respect me until I took care of business,” Deena said. “How do you feel about that?”

Karen shook her head.

“You’re a black woman, too,” Deena pointed out. “If you stick with law, you’re going to come across people like that all the time, people who don’t think you’re good enough regardless of what your transcript says.”

“Then I’ll have to prove myself,” Karen said.

“How?” Deena asked. “You’re going to take all of the bottom-of-the-barrel cases and give it your all until someone finally looks around and notices you?”

Karen shrugged. “I’m going to do my best.”

“I did my best, too,” Deena said. “But sometimes your best just isn’t enough—especially when you’re a woman, and especially if you’re black. When I first started, yeah, I could have busted my ass for two, three, five years, waiting for the director to give me a shot at the big clients. But if you can bypass all of that crap by sleeping with him one time, what’s wrong with that?”

Deena already knew what her secretary would say, and Karen didn’t disappoint. “If you get the clients that way, people won’t respect you.”

Deena smiled. “You’re right again. That’s why you have to be on your grind from day one. If Shelton gives me a hard case and I screw it up, then yeah; everyone will notice. They’ll come down on me, and they’ll come down on Shelton, too. But Shelton has never given me a case I couldn’t handle. As a matter of fact, I’ve gone above and beyond every time. What does that tell you?”

Karen shrugged.

“Think about it,” Deena pressed. “If I excel every time, what does that mean?”

Karen still didn’t know what her boss wanted to hear.

“It means I was capable of handling those cases to begin with,” Deena explained. “I wouldn’t have gotten them because of my experience or my gender or whatever, but I could’ve done it if they gave me a chance. Do you see what I’m saying? The only thing I’m doing is coercing them into giving me a chance.”

Karen got it now, but she still didn’t like it. “Isn’t there another way to make them give you a chance?”

“Sure,” Deena said, “but none are as easy and as fun as screwing. Not only do I get the clients I want, but I get expensive dinners, wine, gifts, romance…”

“You…you like doing that stuff?” Karen asked.

Deena knitted her eyebrows. “Of course I like sex, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, I mean with all of those people.”

Deena chuckled. “Girl, sex is sex. Every one of them opens the door for me and pulls my chair out. They’re all gentle and passionate. They will do anything to please me. I don’t know what girl wouldn’t like that.”

Karen nodded, and frowned. “You liked them all? You never had to sleep with someone who was, you know, nasty?”

Deena laughed. “Well, I guess that night with Tom wasn’t such a blast.”

“Tom?”

“Reagor.” Deena said it dismissively, but Karen was floored.

“Mister Reagor?”

“Yes, Mister Reagor, one of the partners, the old man with the mole on his cheek.”

“No.”

Deena nodded. “I didn’t really sleep with him. We just had dinner and made out a little in the car.”

Karen shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

“If you’re going to play this game, you might as well play it for all it’s worth,” Deena advised. “It wouldn’t make sense to sleep with some guy from the mailroom.”

Karen chuckled courteously, but Deena saw that she was seriously vexed. Either they were going to change the subject, or her secretary might flake out on her.

“Who’s my Blood Money contact?” she asked.

Karen snapped back as if from a fog. “Oh, um…” She jumped from her seat and dashed to her desk. She came back reading from her favorite ledger. “It’s some guy named Russell Foster. He’s the president.” She handed over a business card.