by Auld, Alexei
The office was filled with Japanese relics and photos. A Japanese attorney I assumed to be Masahiro Kawada stood up and bowed. He looked really familiar.
Britney spoke slowly. “Hiro, this is Rufus.”
Hiro aped her by speaking more slowly. “Ru-fus?”
Britney bowed. “Yes. Ruuu-fussss.”
Hiro bowed. “Ah so.” He studied my face. Then quickly dropped to the ground and kowtowed. “Britney-san, excuse us please?” More kowtowing.
“That's fine.”
As she left, Hiro said, “Britney-san, close door behind you, please?”
Soon as that door closed, I said, “Get your ass up, ‘Hiro.’”
He kept his head buried in the ground and said, “So sorry. Meditation time.”
“Don’t make me soccer-kick you in the head, man.”
“Meditation time.” He started reciting some gibberish.
I turned to the door. “Fine, Enos.”
He shot up faster than Rick ran down the hall and barricaded his body against the door. These attorneys sure were quick here.
“Hiro” quickly lost his accent. “Please, Rufus. Don’t tell.”
“Okay, cuz.” I looked at the photos. Recognized his mother dressed like a geisha at the same costume party my mother went as Bob Marley. Not surprisingly, Dada wasn’t in the picture. Another picture had some real Japanese dudes in them I didn’t recognize.
“Who are they?”
“Fuck I know. Came with the picture frame.”
“Why didn't I know you were at Krueller?”
“I didn't want you showing up and fucking up a good thing I had going.”
“Good job that you did, because I'm here now.”
“You're not gonna tell Mama, are you?”
“Enos…”
The door opened and some young guy who looked like Pocahontas and James Franco’s love child stepped in with Britney.
“Masahiro, you giving the new guy shit?”
Enos, I mean Hiro, played dumb.
I said, “He was just telling me about his youth in Kyoto.”
Hiro kowtowed.
Britney bowed. “So chivalrous and shit. I'll leave you guys alone. Tani, can you take him to his office afterwards?”
Tani nodded. “Sure. Where is it?”
“Slater's old office.”
“I didn't know he left.”
Britney smiled. “He doesn't either.”
Tani exchanged a nervous glace with Hiro.
Britney slowly said, “Thank. You. So. Much. Hiro.”
He kowtowed as she exited.
Gladys came right in and handed Hiro an envelope. And promptly left.
Hiro’s accent must have left with her. He sniffed the envelope and said, “I love the smell of money.”
Tani said, “You got a bonus?”
Didn’t make sense to me. “Do you regularly get bonuses this late?”
Tani said, “It's a trend. Most firms announce bonuses near the end of the year.”
Enos (I can’t call him Hiro when he’s not faking the funk) said, “Along with the number of hard billable hours you need to get a bonus.”
It was news to me. “Hard billables? Like in difficulty?”
“Like in whether the partner who gave you an assignment thinks that the hours you worked on are bonus-worthy.”
“Like a document review?”
“Right. But not writing an article.”
Tani sighed. “Which is what I spend a lot of my time doing.”
Enos smacked him with the envelope. “Which is why you don't get a bonus.”
I snatched the envelope from Enos. “But that's not fair.”
Tani took it from me. “Tell me about it.”
“Why don't you refuse?”
“I don't want to get fired. Plus, I can't decide who I work for.”
Enos nabbed the envelope back from Tani. “He's a whore with a cheap john.”
Tani punched Enos’s shoulder. “Thanks, ‘Enos.’”
“Fuggetaboutit.”
All this posturing wasn’t helping. “How many hours were needed to get a bonus?”
Tani said, “Two thousand.”
“How many did you work?”
He said, “Three thousand.”
Enos giggled.
Tani clenched his teeth. “I'd rather not have a bonus than do the ‘quality work’ that gets you one.”
Enos played the world’s smallest violin. “Here we go again.”
I scratched my armpit. “What type of work?”
Tani stared at my crotch then caught himself. He closed his eyes and scratched his head. “Representing Swiss banks that defrauded Holocaust survivors, defending Japanese auto manufacturers who used POWs as slave labor.”
Enos finger-wagged him. “Don't forget assisting nuclear plants that poisoned the waters on an Arizona reservation.”
I nearly choked on my own spit.
Enos poured me a cup of tea. “Like I told you before, this ain't a pretty place to be.”
Tani said, “The firm increases your billing rate four months before they start paying you the difference.”
Enos offered me the cup. “Cheap bastards.”
I took it. “Why not quit?”
Tani said, “If you quit before you get your bonus check, you forfeit your bonus. And by the time you get your bonus, you've already billed three-quarters of your year.”
I sipped and said, “And if you leave, you forfeit that.”
Enos flashed a finger at me. “Exactamundo. Plus, this firm is notorious for under-training.”
Tani nodded. “I'm a third year who's done nothing but make copies, research, article writing, and putting blue backs on court memos or something.”
I said, “Or something?”
Tani nodded. “I just put blue paper on some official, court-looking thingy. If I worked elsewhere, I'd have to take a payout and bust my butt, so why bother?”
Enos said, “You need to have protection while you're here.”
I said, “Protection?”
Enos said, “This firm is like prison. Unless you're affiliated with a group, your ass can be abused by any and everybody.”
“I don't need protection. I'm guaranteed the job offer.”
“You have an offer to work here this summer. You don't have a guaranteed job offer to work here after you graduate.”
I sucked my teeth. “I go to Columbia Law School, Enos.”
“So?”
“So? That should be enough for me to get an offer. I mean, they don't want to offend Columbia. Did you know they actually pay Columbia to interview us?”
“Speak for yourself. I went to Brooklyn Law.”
I patted him on the back. “The rules are different for you guys. No offence.”
“You know what?” Enos smacked my arm away. “Fuck you.”
“Hey, easy, cousin.”
He sucked his teeth.
Tani said, “I went to Harvard, which is higher ranked than Columbia, Rufus.”
That was the truth. And it hurt.
“I know it's a hard truth, but Enos wasn't lying. That's how it works around here. I mean, look at me. I'm only here because I'm willing to do paralegal work for my partner who went to a law school that went under.”
My stomach rumbled. This was not what I’d signed up for at all. I had offers at other firms I turned down, because of the art law group, cushy summers, and lifestyle. Now I have none of that.
Goddamn it. I wanted to hit something. So I slapped my thigh.
Tani said, “You okay?”
“It was a fly.”
“Okay.”
I took a deep breath. I can do this. Just find one person. I could totally do it. Things were different, but I could adapt.
“Okay.” I extended a hand to Enos. “Sorry, cousin.”
He looked at me sideways. “We're cool.”
“You just gonna leave me hanging?”
“Fuck is that.” He slapped
my hand.
“I deserved that. So, if we're good, give me a breakdown.”
Tani said, “First, you have Grimes. He's a new-school partner. Sees clients are walking dollars to be spent. Nothing more.”
Enos said, “Annoying kissass.”
I said, “He's a baller?”
Tani nodded. “He doesn’t surround himself with trappings of money.”
Enos said, “He leaves that to his girl, Trudi.”
I said, “Trudi?”
Enos said, “I'll tell you about her later. But she's the reason why he's pussy whipped.”
Tani said, “I just think he lacks self-esteem. But it just manifests itself in terrible ways.”
I said, “Like what?”
Enos said, “He imposes his will on inferiors and his peers, while kissing superior ass.”
Tani said, “Shouting at his secretary to motivate instead of the old-school flowers, candy, and genteel ways.”
Enos said, “Don't forget bullying clients.”
I said, “With his fists?”
Enos sniggered. “That dweeb? He's just annoying. Passive-aggressive bullying.”
I said, “Okay, I don't want to work for him. What about Trudi?”
Enos said, “Jasmine/Trudi. Grade A gold digger who believes she’s an independent, classy woman, but really is a spoiled Carrie Bradshaw wannabe.”
Tani said, “She creates unnecessary drama.”
Enos said, “She's always bandaged. Addicted to unnecessary cosmetic surgical procedures.”
I said, “Self-esteem?”
Enos said, “Racist. She's removing all vestiges of ethnicity.”
Tani said, “And she always has roaming fat from liposuction.”
I gagged.
Tani said, “First belly, then leg, then a humpback.”
I said, “Why is fat removal racist?'
Enos said, “The name 'Jasmine' was too ethic for her. So she introduces herself as Trudi. She's an Iranian who thinks she’s white, and looks down on minorities.”
Tani said, “She's kind of white. You know, off-white.”
I said, “I dated someone like that once. Would be tricky. Any other intel on her?”
Enos said, “She masturbates to online Cartier/Tiffany websites.”
I said, “By herself?”
Enos nodded. “Pops caught her on all fours in her office paddling the pink canoe on the ground while surfing those sites on her iPad.”
Tani said, “Don't you mean on her threes? She needed one to do the paddling.”
Enos sucked his teeth. “She still could've used an elbow.”
Tani did a double take. “To paddle?”
Enos balled a fist. “To rest on the ground while her hand did the paddling. The fuck, man?”
I said, “Let me guess. She calls drinks ‘cocktails’ and refers to a boyfriend as ‘lover’ even though they’re not fucking.”
Tani said, “She's ambitious about being…ambitious.
Enos added, “She moves throughout the firm. First, she started with a mailroom guy, then a paralegal, then a lawyer.” Enos beamed and clasped his hands together. “Cuz, you could pretend to be a partner and see if she wants you.”
I waved him away. “I don't need to pretend to be anything.”
Tani whipped out his pinky. “Is that a bet?”
I said, “What's your problem?”
Tani frowned like I’d crushed his dreams.
Enos said, “There's a woman you should definitely stay away from. Natasha. Stack hired her for himself, so anyone who goes out with her is canned.”
I grinned. “So I really need to know her?”
Enos rushed me. “You are to never talk to her. Got it?”
I said, “She gonna set me up or something?”
Enos said, “She’s oblivious to all this.”
Tani said, “A female associate fired because a partner thought she was tempting her to be a lesbian. And get this, the associate had a husband and two kids.”
Enos said, “And you forgot about the stable.”
I said, “The stable?”
Britney opened the door. “Tani, can you speak to someone looking for Stack?”
Tani mouthed “fuck” before putting on a fake smile. “Sure, where is he?”
Enos bowed and I headed for my office.
11
I WAS HORRIFIED at the abortion that seemed to be my new career. I couldn't believe my cousin, at least until I thought about him and then realized I totally could believe him. And that Tani guy? How did one make a career out of that? Assuming he wanted a career in the first place. Probably didn't want anything but a paycheck. But what if that ended? What came next?
Before I could consider it, my phone rang. I picked it up and almost said, “Hello,” before remembering work etiquette.
“Rufus Wang speaking.”
A husky voice said, “Is Mr. Goldberg in?”
Goldberg. I guessed I wasn't the only one who was missing him. “No, sir. He's no longer with the firm.”
“My goodness. I've been reaching him at this number for fifteen years. Can you tell me where I can reach him?”
I wanted to reach him for selling me the wrong bill of goods. “He works at the Olympus Group.”
“Makes sense. Thanks.”
He hung up, and I wanted to throw up. “Makes sense”? Why did it make sense? What kind of shit firm was this?
It didn't matter. I needed to work.
I wondered what Lola was up to.
How else was I going to bill, like Xandra said? I ran a calculation to see how many hours I needed to work for the rest of the week. I guessed the personal shopper work counted. Shooting the shit with my cuz? Not so much.
When I opened up my Krueller email account, I saw multiple intruder alerts from a guy named “RE COOLIE” noting the following:
An intruder was seen on the 45th floor wearing either a navy-blue or black shirt, Asian male, 5'8” or 6'0”. If you see this person or if any of your belongings are missing, please call ext. 1862 immediately.
-Security-
An intruder was seen on the 45th floor wearing either a navy-blue or shirt Arab male, 5'8” or 6'0”. If you see this person or if any of your belongings are missing, please call ext. 1862 immediately.
-Security-
It was just reported that an intruder was seen on the 38th floor: Early 20s, Hispanic, short, dark hair, dressed in a dark blue shirt, carrying a brown envelope. If you see someone matching this description or if you notice that any of your personal belongings are missing, call ext. 1862 immediately.
The intruder kind of sounded like me.
Was it me?
After all, I was in my early twenties, had short, dark hair, and was impeccably dressed. People couldn’t place my race, but that was nothing new. The only thing about the descriptions that bugged me, other than their racist nature, was the five-foot-eight height estimation. I was six feet tall, damn it all. I needed some answers. If I spoke to anyone I didn’t trust, it could cost me my job.
Rufus and Tani left. But I saw a familiar name.
Taylor. From my interview.
After all, the descriptions could have been about him as well, since it didn’t mention skin tone and there are super-light-skinned blacks (Colin Powell), Hispanics (Marc Anthony), and Arabs (Bert, from Sesame Street).
“Can’t be me, Rufus, if they don’t have the race right.”
I took that to mean Taylor might be one of those Cape Verdean or Persian types who didn’t identify themselves racially in the big five (black, white, Arab, Asian, Native American). Those types of folks didn't like people getting all in their genetic business, so I decided to be more vague. “Still, this is some strange shit. In the years you’ve been here, ever experience any racial weirdness?”
“Minorities treat me fine.”
I laughed, thinking Taylor was cracking jokes.
“Where'd you go for undergrad, Taylor?”
“Howard
University.”
“The black school?”
“Howard was diverse. They even had affirmative action scholarships for white people.”
I didn't want to press it. I mean, race discussions on the job weren't copacetic.
Maybe I was wrong thinking Taylor could identify with my concerns as a person of color. Maybe he was white after all. Perhaps Taylor liked talking about race because Taylor was racially cool and understood black issues from his Howard days. After all, there is a difference between application and interpretation, meaning one could understand the motivations and issues an individual faced without agreeing with those motivations and issues.
“There's some racist-ass shit here, Taylor.”
“Maybe they're not really racists, but just jerks?”
“The intruder alerts? Being mistaken for mailroom workers?”
Taylor tittered.
“I don’t know, Taylor. I mean, you’re from Howard, you know about institutionalized racism. Is it better to be invited to a club that won’t accept you as a member and feel like a loser or to not be invited at all?”
“I’d rather be invited. The pay is better than the alternative.”
12
THE DAY O' disappointment melted my musculature. I barely dragged myself to my apartment. Not that the loud music helped.
Death metal.
Made me feel homicidal.
I never understood what she saw, or really heard while listening to it. Other than dudes that sounded like Cookie Monster. “Nom nom nom nom” was all I heard. It made me wonder if she had some Muppet fetish. Thank the Lord I hadn't found out by now. And if she did? I'd take an earful of Cookie Monster music over me in a blue furry suit trying to schtup her while singing “C is for Cookie” anyway. And that was for damn sure.
“Hey, baby. How was your first day?”
That was Rhage.
Pronounced like rage, not like the Kurosawa movie Ran with the letter J. My girlfriend, which is so weird to say, given my past romantic failures. Our current relationship was, how do I say, more mellow than it had been in the past. You'd think because she was on some meds that made her less prone to violence as well as reduced her libido.
But she wasn't on anything.
