“V,” Armond smirked, “I can’t tell you how much your opinion about my looks means to me. I’m sure I’ll soon begin turning to you for style advice. Let me see. What is your specialty?” Armond asked as he stood back and cocked his head to look her up and down. “Ah, yes, last year’s fashion at bargain prices. I’m sure that works well in the incredibly cosmopolitan city of Chicago.”
Victoria opened her mouth to let loose, but just as when he’d been her boss at Acker, Smith & McGowen, he held up a finger in his I’m about to pontificate fashion. “Actually, I’m glad you bought up the subject of style,” Armond said, helping Victoria into the back of one of Renoir Productions’ Bentley limos waiting by the curb.
Victoria politely took his outstretched hand and was quite proud of herself for not yanking his arm out of his socket. They had only been together a few minutes, and she could already feel herself getting annoyed. She was going to have to learn to control those feelings as they were not at all productive or rational. “What the hell are you talking about? Has the la-la land diet of green smoothies and quinoa turned you into a blithering idiot? I didn’t say anything about style. And, stop looking me up and down like I’m some random possession you control.”
Armond felt a hint of satisfaction, knowing he could still get under her skin so easily. This is familiar territory, he thought. He had always enjoyed their banter, and unlike whatever it was that had provoked his restless night, this he understood. With a self-satisfied smile, he responded, “I hate to burst your midwestern bubble, but you do work for me. Seems to me that gives me an excessive amount of control. In any event, this can’t be how you treat your other clients.”
Armond watched as Victoria’s eyes turned from brown to a deep, inky black. I can almost clock, to the second, the amount of time it takes me to piss her off, he thought, trying not to show his amusement. He watched her take a few deep breaths in an effort to control her temper. " Now, open your suitcase,” Armond demanded.
“Now? Here?” Victoria asked, no longer amused.
“Yes, now and here because I want to evaluate your choice of attire. We’re going to be meeting with the Asian elite, and they’ll be checking us out as much as we’ll be checking them out. They have a nose for fashion and will expect you to be wearing the finest,” Armond said matter-of-factly as he poked through Victoria’s clothes. “The shoes will suffice but the clothes will not. You have no designer labels.” Victoria felt herself go from zero to bitch instantly. “You really can’t be as insensitive as you’re pretending to be at this moment. You do recall I just started my own firm a year ago, don’t you? And that I just started taking a salary? So, no, I won’t buy new clothes, and if that’s what you need—”
Armond again held up his finger to interrupt.
“We’ve yet to work on that temper, I see. Of course I don’t expect you to pay for new clothes.” He looked out the window and nodded as the driver pulled over. “Come on.”
“What are we doing? I thought we were having dinner with your parents.”
Armond took her by the hand and helped her out. “We are. There are just a few stops on the way.”
Victoria looked around. People were everywhere, leisurely looking in windows and enjoying the afternoon sunshine. “Where are we?”
“This, my dear,” Armond said as he waved his arm through the air like he owned it, “is Rodeo Drive.” Grabbing her hand and pulling, Armond was met with stubborn rigidity, akin to what one might feel when a dog’s found a good scent and refuses to budge.
“You know I can’t afford these stores.”
“And again, I don’t expect you to. Renoir Productions is paying for your clothes. Listen, let’s start over. I apologize. I’ve been less than adroit. There might have been a better way to have begun this discussion besides rummaging through your suitcase and critiquing your style.”
“Ya think?” Victoria responded, pissed.
“But the point is,” Armond continued, ignoring her, “we’ll be meeting with some of the wealthiest people in Asia, and as our counsel, you’ll need to look the part. All you need to do is pick out what you like and the clothes will be tailored and ready by the time we leave tomorrow night.”
“I’m not doing this,” Victoria responded, sounding— even to herself—like a recalcitrant two-year old.
“V, who do you think pays for my tailored suits? Or my father’s ridiculous collection of designer clothes? We’re in the entertainment industry, darling.” Armond emphasized the last word, Hollywood-style. “It’s all a business expense.” He waited while a flurry of emotions crossed Victoria’s face, finally ending in what looked like joy.
“Really?”
“Really. So, release that last little bit of Catholic-girl guilt you’re still holding on to and enjoy.” Following Victoria’s gaze, Armond knew he had her. “Well, I see from the look in your eyes and your laser-like focus on that dress in the window that your baser instincts have won. Good girl!”
“Well, I certainly can’t be rude to my newest client.” Victoria paused. “Seems I’m suddenly guilt-free. Oh, and by the way, I disagree with you on one point.”
“What now?” Armond responded, quirking one eye-brow.
“While my shoes will ‘suffice’ as you say, they won’t work for this trip. I’ll need shoes as well,” Victoria said, nodding at a shoe store kitty-corner from where they were standing.
“Don’t get carried away, my pet,” Armond warned.
“You don’t want me to try to match my new clothes to my old shoes, do you?” Victoria said, batting her long eye-lashes in a fake starlet kind of way. Without waiting for an answer, she pushed open the first boutique door of the afternoon and looked back over her shoulder at Armond. “Come along. You created this monster. We have a lot of shopping to do and precious little time to do it!”
The door shut quietly behind her, and she was enveloped in the boutique’s loving arms, leaving Armond standing and staring at her from the Rodeo Drive sidewalk.
* * *
Four hours later, Victoria and Armond returned to their limo. “That was fun! I finally understand why some people like to shop. Makes a huge difference when you don’t have to pay for it. What’s next?” Victoria asked, exhilarated by the afternoon of pure outrageous spending.
“Dinner with my parents at eight. We’ll be staying at their home tonight. They have plenty of room, and by the time we’re through, it’ll be easier than having to drop you off at a hotel and drive home. Dinner is formal. My parents are throwing a little soiree to introduce you to some of our VPs and a few of our starlets, as you like to call them, who are set to be in some of the films we’ll be offering to investors.”
“I assume I should be prepared for a night of giant knockers. Do I get hazard pay when one of them inevitably cracks me in the head?”
“Oh, ha ha, Victoria. I assume I can rely on you to keep your charming quips to yourself. And those knockers—by the way, yet another lovely midwestern turn of phrase you bring to the table—are heavily insured. They’re considered valuable assets and ones our potential Asian investors will have a keen interest in while you’re busy entertaining their wives,” Armond answered.
“Did you say I’ll be stuck entertaining their wives? Is that why you hired me?” Victoria turned to look at Armond. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Wipe that ridiculous look off your face. No, that is not why I hired you, but the reality is that while the women will have some influence, the men will handle the negotiations. We’ll be on their turf, dealing with their customs. You realized that, didn’t you?” Armond asked, a bit annoyed he hadn’t thought enough about Victoria’s lack of experience with other countries and cultures. The only country she had traveled to was Bermuda, and the only reason she had been there was for work. Other than men wearing shorts and knee socks as formal attire, Bermuda wasn’t much of a culture shock.
“Of course. While I don’t mind being off with the wives at certain times, I
do expect to be in the room to help negotiate and close the deals.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Armond nodded at his parents as the limo arrived at his family home. “Ah, well, I see you’ve managed to get the royal greeting.”
“This is your home? You grew up here?” Victoria asked in awe, waving at his parents. She looked around quickly in an effort to get her bearings and while doing so, for the first time, noticed the long driveway lined with palm trees out the rear window, and then the sprawling outline of what could only be described as a mansion standing majestically against the darkening sky as the limo rolled gently to a stop. She thought she could make out what looked like avocados and lemons hanging from the trees that dotted what yard she could see in the darkening sky. Victoria tried to pull herself together before she spoke, but it was difficult. She had never seen, let alone expected to be, surrounded by such extravagance. She gave Armond a sideways glance. “Now I get it.”
“Get what?” Armond asked, knowing by her look he was about to receive some form of shit.
“Why you turned out the way you did. Look at this place. There’s no place for sidewalk chalk art, and I’ll bet you never ran through a sprinkler or slid on a wet piece of plastic on a hot summer day either.”
Luckily for Victoria, there was no time for Armond to respond as his father swung open the car door and pulled Victoria into a bear hug. “Victoria, darling. We are so happy to see you. It’s been too long.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Phillip,” Victoria said, genuinely happy. “And Angelika, it’s wonderful to see you again. You look beautiful, as always.”
“Thank you, darling. Aren’t you nice to say so, but I have to give credit where credit is due, and that, my dear, goes to my plastic surgeon and whatever injectable of the day she decided to use. Now, let’s get you inside and settled. I’m assuming our charming son told you about our dinner plans?”
“He did,” Victoria acknowledged. “But until the rest of my clothes arrive tomorrow, all I have is a rather plain black cocktail dress. Will that work?”
Taking Victoria by the arm, Angelika led her into the house. “Darling, that is the perfect backdrop. I think my five-carat diamond drop earrings should do the trick, don’t you?”
Laughing and looking back over her shoulder at Armond and his father, Victoria answered, “I’m definitely not in Kansas anymore.”
CHAPTER
25
“OKAY, FOLKS. WHERE do we stand?” Jack walked around the conference room, scanning each associate’s face. “Samantha, why don’t you begin? Why have all these women left the firm?”
Picking up her notes to glance at them, her hands began to shake, and she dropped the paper like it was possessed. “We worked with the firm’s HR people, asking that they turn over all the files they had on each of these women. We didn’t want to take their word for why they left, so we drilled down into each file ourselves.”
Jack nodded. “Good. Never rely on someone else’s assessment of a document or witness. If you can get the source of the information, always review it or interview him or her yourself. What’d you find?”
Samantha was not at all comforted by Jack’s compliment. Since she’d joined the firm, Jack had called her a selfish little bitch several times, and he’d said the same or worse to others. Holding her head up, prepared for the unknown, she responded, “The files are missing substantive documentation of the trajectory of their careers. It appears these women received their semi-annual and yearly reviews by entry of a few notes and a number that ranged from one to ten.”
“What the hell do you mean they were reviewed by number?” Jack asked, his previously calm voice now sounding a bit more like a low growl.
“Let me show you.” Samantha opened her laptop and tried to ignore Jack’s tone. “I prepared this chart after looking through the only documents the firm retained on the women who’ve left over the past five years. I then compared their information to a random sampling of the same number of men who’ve been at the firm for identical time periods. You’ll note the women have markedly lower numbers than the men, and strikingly, in my opinion, their reviews contain zero descriptors or narratives about their abilities, as compared to the men. This becomes particularly shocking when you look at this next chart. It lists the adjectives used to describe the men. Next to that is the list used to describe the women.”
“The column has nothing in it,” Jack stated the obvious. “Exactly. The difference between the men and women is stark. It will be hard for a jury to believe there wasn’t a different standard by which the women were judged,” Samantha finished.
The room remained silent, which was not part of the associates’ plan. They had all agreed to pass the meeting quickly from one to the other as they had concluded Jack seemed to become volatile if there was a lull in the room. Samantha stared at Jason. If her eyes could shoot fire, Jason would have been a ball of ash. It was his turn.
“So,” Jason began, apparently being jolted into consciousness by hostile mental waves from Samantha, “we went back to HR and asked for current contact information on the women, and the same for any men, who had left over the past five years. For the men, the firm has what appears to be complete forwarding addresses and current employment information. However, the firm has this same information for only about one in five of the women.”
“Reason?” Jack spat.
“According to HR, the women don’t want to provide their personal information after they leave the firm.”
“Why?” Jack spat again
“We asked those same questions. HR says they don’t know. They ask former associates if they will provide forwarding information and keep the firm updated on their future employment.”
“Anything else?” Jack looked around the room.
“Yes. We contacted the women who provided forwarding information. All of them said they left for what they called ‘a better opportunity,’” Jason explained, using air quotes. “They had nothing bad to say about the firm. However, it is noteworthy that this group of women left the firm within the first three years of their employment. In other words, they were all fairly new associates. It appears the women who left when they were more senior and getting closer to partnership provided little, if any, information.”
“Point?”
“The point is that if Victoria and her attorney get this information, they’ll certainly make a circumstantial case to the jury that things are just fine at the firm for women until they near partnership. At that point—”Jason shrugged his shoulders.
“At that point what? We tell all of these women they aren’t partner material? We throw them off a bridge?” Jack stood and began to pace. “Okay, what else?”
“That’s it,” Jason answered.
“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? What about Ms. Rodessa? What does her file tell us?”
Jason nodded. “Right. Her situation is unique. It’s the only file we found where a woman was fired by the firm, and her firing is documented in some detail.”
Jack walked over to the whiteboard, “Okay. We have only one female fired by the firm, and her file contains support for the decision. That’s good. But, she disputes the firm’s statement of events. No surprise there. The jury will expect her to disagree, but we’ll have a number of very credible witnesses, including at least one of the firm’s founders. Now, the negatives. First, Armond will support Victoria’s story. Second, since she’s alleging gender discrimination, the court will likely allow her lawyers to take a bit of a fishing expedition into the firm’s handling of female lawyers and their paths to partnership. So, what do you recommend?”
Jason spoke up. “The information we discussed this morning will not go over well with a jury, so we need to do everything we can to keep this information from seeing the light of day.”
Jack nodded. “I agree. What do you propose?”
“We’ll object to opposing counsel’s discovery request fo
r additional information, arguing it violates the other women’s privacy rights.”
“And if we lose?” Jack asked.
“Then we’ll have to produce it and come up with an explanation.”
Jack looked around, then walked over and opened the door. “Thank you all for being a part of this brainstorming session. I know you have court deadlines in other cases. I’ll see everyone this evening at five to go over tomorrow’s calendar call. Jack, Samantha, you two stay since you’re my first and second chairs for this trial.”
As soon as everyone left the room, Jack shut the door and looked at his two senior associates. “Now, let’s get real, shall we?”
CHAPTER
26
“I’M SURPRISED TO get your call. I thought you’d be winging your way to the Orient by now. When are you leaving?” Kat asked.
Victoria adjusted her phone so it cradled between her shoulder and head. “As soon as they finish working on my new clothes. I can’t believe those words actually came out of my mouth.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m on a private plane while two very talented seamstresses”—Victoria smiled at the two women circling her on their knees—“finish tailoring a cocktail dress I bought yesterday.”
“You bought new clothes? I’ve been hounding you for over a year to get to a store. And a cocktail dress? Really? I couldn’t even pry money out of your tight-fisted little grip to get you to buy new underwear so no one but me would ever have to live through the horrific experience of seeing you in that God-awful Catholic-girl underwear you insist on wearing.” Victoria grabbed the phone. “Thank God. They’re done.
And aren’t you hilarious? I didn’t buy the clothes. Armond did.
Well, Renoir Productions did, not Armond. And, for the record, there’s nothing wrong with my underwear. I simply don’t choose to walk around with a thread of fabric up my ass like someone I know.”
Private Agendas: A Victoria Rodessa Legal Thriller Page 10
