Splitsville, page 3
“How well you know me.”
“I know your professional passion. Or obsession.”
“The word you’re searching for is ‘focus.’ All good businesspeople have focus.” She winked. “And impeccable taste.” She started toward her office.
“Don’t forget. Partner meeting in fifteen.”
“How could I forget? I’m expecting big things.”
“I still can’t believe your father is stepping down.”
“He’s been managing partner for almost twenty years. Time to pass the torch.”
“You’re a shoo-in.”
Kenzi surrounded her face with jazz hands. “Top billing attorney for three years running.”
“That’s why you make some of your colleagues nervous.”
“Like my underachieving brother?”
“Among others. No one likes being shown up over and over again. And the thought of being led by a woman…well. Some are predicting disaster.”
“Like the world run by men has been flawless. Testosterone-fueled decision-making has—”
Sharon stopped her with a wagging finger. “Girl, watch your tongue. If you’re going to be managing partner, you need to be more circumspect.”
“I’ll take that under consideration.”
“You so won’t.”
“But thanks for the advice, just the same.”
Ten minutes later, Kenzi was in the main conference room. She didn’t arrive early because she had nothing better to do. She wanted to make sure she got the catbird chair to the right of her father, so she would be in the limelight when he anointed her. The passing of the torch could be executed without even standing. He could just slide right and she could slide left into the big chair at the far end of the table.
Two of her friends, also female divorce attorneys, sat beside her.
“Fingers crossed, sweetie,” Christie said.
“You’ve got this in the bag,” Marianne echoed.
“It’s not over till it’s over, ladies.” A little modesty usually went down well. Didn’t want people to think she’d gotten the big head.
“Who else could it be? You’re obviously the most qualified. No one else comes close.”
Another partner streamed through the door and gave her a big thumbs up. Even her younger brother, Gabriel, offered a clenched fist of solidarity. He was a nice guy but a fairly dreadful attorney. He’d yet to build a significant client list. More than once she’d had to bail him out, both in the office and in court. A nice guy, but nice wasn’t always the dominant quality of successful attorneys.
Five minutes later, all the partners other than her father had arrived. The only one who did not appear enthused, Emma Ortiz, was also the only partner who was not a divorce lawyer. Kenzi’s father had never wanted his firm involved with criminal law, which he thought tawdry and perpetuated the stereotype of the Latinx community as illegals and “bad hombres.” But over time, so many of the firm’s divorce cases touched on criminal matters that he recognized the need for someone familiar with that niche. Emma handled those cases but rarely left her office. Her frosty attitude and hermetic existence had given her a “weirdo” reputation.
At last, Kenzi’s father strolled into the conference room, nodding, waving, taking the backslaps and high fives that came his way. She knew why he had chosen this conference room. It was the biggest but also the one he had personally decorated with artifacts and artwork from Mexico—what he liked to call the homeland, though his father had emigrated when he was two. Some people complained that it made the room look like a Day of the Dead parade, but she liked it. She was bored by the mundane conformity of most law firms. They did not all have to look alike. Just as every lawyer did not have to look alike.
Her father settled in his big chair and started the meeting.
“Thank you for coming, my colleagues. This is an important day for me, and I hope it will be important for you as well. Together, we have made my father’s firm into one of the largest and most successful in Seattle. We’re in the Top Two every time someone issues a list. Personally, I think we’re Number One.” He let a sly smile creep across his face. “But there are some who would disagree.”
Kenzi knew who he was thinking about—Crozier & Crozier, their biggest competition. Crozier had fewer lawyers but appeared to net more income, so the title of Most Successful Seattle Divorce Firm depended upon the measuring stick being used. All she knew for certain was that Crozier was gunning for them. The head of that firm, Lou Crozier, was a detestable conspiracy nut who frequently appeared on the other side of her cases. Uber-liberal Sharon wouldn’t even take his messages.
“I’ve enjoyed my time in this chair,” her father continued. “I never considered myself a boss. I saw myself as a shepherd. It was my task to continue the work my father started, to build and grow the firm that has employed us so long and so well. But the time has come for me to step aside. This is a partnership, not a dictatorship.”
Many laughed, but Kenzi thought the remark was not entirely frivolous. Her father tended to rule with an autocratic hand, and she doubted that would end today. Sure, he might let someone else be managing partner, but he would remain on the Executive Board and act as a sort of Manager Emeritus, telling the new boss what to do.
Well, he could try. But she had a mind of her own and she wasn’t going to lose it when she sat in the big chair.
“Enough of my rambling,” her father said. “I don’t want to become one of those old men who ramble on forever with stories that have no point. I have in fact chosen my successor, who I assume will be ratified at the next meeting of the Board of Directors. So without further ado, let me tell you what you’ve come to hear. The next managing partner for Rivera & Perez…”
Kenzi drew in her breath and pushed herself up.
“…will be my trusted and beloved son, Gabriel Rivera.”
A silence filled the room. Kenzi froze. She slunk back into the chair, her face burning.
A moment later, the room burst into applause. Gabriel strode past her to the front of the room and shook hands with his father.
Kenzi slid halfway under the table and wondered whether, if she tried hard enough, she could hold her breath until she was dead.
Chapter Four
Kenzi watched through slitted eyes as her brother took the command chair.
“This is an honor, sir. A true honor.”
His father gave him a square-jawed smile and a slap on the shoulder. “You deserved it, son.”
Deserved it? Kenzi clenched her teeth. Gabriel hadn’t made half the money for this firm that she had. A quick scan of the room told her that more people were watching her than the jackals onstage, looking for signs of her mortification. She would have to behave herself, hard as that might be.
“I won’t let you down, sir.”
“I know you won’t, Gabe. Why don’t you say a few words to the troops?”
Gabriel offered an ‘aw-shucks’ shrug but didn’t have to be pushed hard. He launched into a State of the Firm address so polished she knew he must’ve practiced it for days. Which meant he knew what was going to happen. Even when he gave her that fist of solidarity.
“I don’t see this as a new beginning,” Gabriel said. His voice tended to be high, but he was deliberately lowering it, probably to sound more authoritative. “The smartest thing I could possibly do as your managing partner is continue the sound and profitable policies initiated by my father, the strategies that have made this firm the success it is today.”
She wanted to gag. Is this why he got the job? Because he was a bigger suck-up? There was no other rational explanation for it.
“We know our competition is gunning for us. We must remain light on our feet and strong in our determination. I want everyone to redouble their recruiting efforts. Spend more time at the country club. Take your CEOs out to dinner. Work those showbiz and Big Tech connections. I want Rivera & Perez to be the first—in fact, the only—name that pops into people’s minds when a top-dollar divorce surfaces. I want the world to think that if they don’t have Rivera & Perez, they’re putting their future in jeopardy. I want people to come to us, if for no other reason, because they’re afraid that if they don’t, their spouse will!”
Everyone laughed—everyone but Kenzi. A strained smile was the best she could muster. And that took some doing. She put her teeth on display, but her eyes weren’t smiling. They were spitting daggers.
After work, Kenzi invited Sharon to Sherman’s Ferry, an upscale bar near their office. She probably shouldn’t call it a bar. They served food, or so she believed. She’d never tested the theory. She only allowed herself 600 calories in the evening, and she was likely to exceed that with vodka gimlets.
Sharon was the first to raise the delicate subject. “I must say, girlfriend, you’re handling this like a pro.”
“I’m really not,” Kenzi replied. “Years of family court have made me unflappable.”
“If I were in your shoes, I’d be crying salty tears all over myself.”
Later. After she’d drunk herself into a stupor. “It’s just a title. Doesn’t even come with a salary hike.”
“But you deserved it.”
“Life isn’t fair. Which is probably a good thing, because if life always worked out fairly, no one would need lawyers.” She signaled the waiter for a refill.
The Ferry had the feel of an old-school British gentleman’s club, with wood-paneled walls and mahogany tables. It was on the top floor of a skyscraper, and the panorama windows offered a gorgeous view of the Seattle skyline, particularly breathtaking as the sun set. She could see Pike Place Market, the Space Needle, even a trace of the Museum of Pop Culture. Inside, it was all Spode china and sterling silver tableware. Those little bowls that let you pinch your own salt. She loved those. She didn’t use salt—it caused water retention. But she still loved the little bowls.
She thought coming to her favorite watering hole might elevate her spirits. So far, it wasn’t working.
“Oh look, honey. It’s your archenemy.”
“I didn’t know I had an archenemy. Outside of my family.” Kenzi glanced over her shoulder. Lou Crozier. The five-hundred-pound gorilla at Crozier & Crozier. “What’s he doing here?”
“Guess QAnon gave him the night off.”
“He saw us. Should I wave?”
“I’ll wave.”
Kenzi grabbed Sharon’s hand and slammed it down on the table. “What are you doing?”
“Waving.”
“You were flipping him off.”
“That’s better than he deserves. I can’t stand people who are wrapped up in all that 4chan crap. Probably a white supremacist.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He retweeted a post that called the insurrectionists at the US Capitol ‘American patriots.’”
“Nonetheless, I have to work with him. Frequently.”
“I don’t. And I never will.”
“I have noticed that you put extra energy into your work when he’s on the other side.” Sharon had trained as a legal assistant, but with Kenzi, she had a much more all-encompassing position that amounted to doing whatever Kenzi needed done and then some. She was a legal assistant, file clerk, researcher, appointments manager, personal shopper, and occasionally, caterer, which was no small task given Kenzi’s exacting dietary restrictions.
“That man is the spawn of Satan.”
“There are many contenders for the title of Spawn of Satan,” Kenzi replied. “Crozier’s in the Top Ten, certainly. And now, my father. My brother. But they’re not Number One.”
“And who would—oh wait, I don’t need to ask.”
“No. You don’t need to say it, either.”
“Your ex.”
“You just said it.”
“Because we both know it’s true. Heard anything about him lately?”
“I try not to.”
“Still teaching at SPU?”
“Apparently sexual predation, child abandonment, violence, and alcoholism don’t disqualify you from teaching math.”
“If they knew the truth, they’d fire him in a New York minute.”
Kenzi’s ex had been her professor during her second year in college. Then she took a Work Study job with him. And then one fateful night, after far too many vodka gimlets…
Pregnant. And being a good Catholic girl, she married him. Stupidest mistake of her life. Her father was opposed to it, no big surprise.
She winced. Probably her most painful memory. How could she have been so blind?
That was when the rift between her and her father became the Royal Gorge. He still hadn’t forgiven her for that mistake, years later, after she’d divorced the loser, retaken her maiden name, and become the most profitable member of his firm. He spoke to her politely—but something was missing. Something important. He kept her at a distance and it broke her heart. She’d been a major Daddy’s girl growing up. Used to leave the family pew and sit with her father in the choir loft so they could take communion together. She’d been Daddy’s favorite and she knew it. But now…
Sharon interrupted her reverie. “You know Gabriel won’t last.”
She brought her brain back to the present. “How do you mean?”
“That lightweight? He’s a white feather in a hurricane. First time something bad happens, or one of the partners has a serious problem, he’ll crumble.”
“Maybe not. Maybe this will be the test that tempers the sword. Brings out his steel.”
They both looked at one another, and a moment later, burst into laughter.
“Okay, maybe not. But my father must’ve had some reason for giving him the job.”
“It’s the Peter Principle, honey. Promote them to their highest level of incompetence.”
“Is that a real thing?”
“For men? Yes.”
Kenzi shook her head. “No. There’s something more going on here. But I don’t know what it is.”
“How are you going to react if your little brother starts telling you what to do?”
“He wouldn’t dare. He’s afraid of me.”
“I grok that.”
“How my father could do this to me? I’m trending!”
“Does he even know what that means?”
“He knows I bring in more money than anyone else. Twice as much as my brother.”
“Maybe that’s why he did it. Promoting Gabriel might inspire him to step up his game. Your father knows he can count on you to make money for him.”
Her head jerked up. “How does he know that?”
“It’s not like you’re going to leave the family firm.”
Kenzi’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe that’s exactly what I should do.”
“Wait a minute, honey. Don’t you do anything rash.”
“Why should I slave away for someone who doesn’t appreciate me?”
“He does pay you pretty darn well.”
“Not enough.”
“Cry me a river. You live in the nicest apartment building in the city. You have a personal trainer.”
“That’s not a big—”
“You drive a Lexus. I drive a Prius.”
“I get your point. But I still think I’m underappreciated.”
“Then talk to the man. Daddies and daughters are supposed to chat every now and again.”
“I will. I’ll march into his office tomorrow morning and demand answers.”
“And if you don’t get the answers you want?”
“Then I’ll go out on my own. Start my own firm.”
“You don’t want to do that.”
“I could. I have enough clients and contacts.”
“Sure, you could. But you don’t want the administrative hassles. You want to start dealing with payroll? Insurance? Workers Comp?”
“You can do all that.”
“I already do more than I can keep up with. I’m working nights and weekends.”
“Then you’re used to overtime.”
“This is a mistake, Kenzi.”
“It’s my mistake to make. I’ll give Daddie Dearest an ultimatum. And if he doesn’t give me what I want…” She started to sing, a bit too loudly. “‘It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new liiiiiife…’”
“Uh huh.” Sharon clamped a hand over Kenzi’s mouth. “I think you better take an Uber home.”
Chapter Five
Kenzi fumbled with her keys for at least a minute before she got the apartment door unlocked. She steeled herself, took several quick breaths, and closed her eyes.
Hold it together, she thought. Look normal, like nothing is bothering you and you haven’t been inhaling vodka. No need to bring your work home. Or to look like you were drinking your sorrows away.
She took one step into the dark apartment…
Music was playing. On vinyl, if she wasn’t mistaken. Was that actually Frank Sinatra?
Tentative step forward. More short quick breaths. One foot in front of the other—
“Wow. How much have you had to drink?”
She froze. Seemed she had company.
“You can stop acting like you’re sneaking out of jail. Did you think I wouldn’t hear you come in?”
“I was…trying not to disturb you.”
“Seriously? You were making more noise than a rooster.”
“Well, I…” Oh, what’s the use? She flopped down on the living room sofa. “I’ve had a rough day.”
Sharon had exaggerated when she called this the nicest apartment building in the city…but it was nice. The security was excellent. She liked having a doorman who knew her on sight—though nights like this, she wished she could creep in more anonymously. The apartment walls were freshly painted in a modern style that had a name she couldn’t recall at the moment. The carpet was clean and the view outside the bay windows revealed nighttime Seattle at its best.
Hailie rolled up beside her. “I heard about the meeting.”
“Heard? Like people are talking about the Rivera & Perez partners’ meeting?”
“Online, yes. The SeaTacLaw Reddit stream was talking about it five minutes after it happened.”
