Friction

Still . . . I wanted this position badly. It was something I’d set my sights on early.

Even though I went to law school on the West Coast, I always knew I’d come home to North Carolina to practice. More important, I wanted to be the type of lawyer who made a difference in an ordinary person’s life, and in my mind, the best place to accomplish that was with Knight & Payne.

The law firm is massive, employing sixty-three lawyers, twenty-nine paralegals, thirty-six secretaries, and two receptionists, one for each floor. It’s an institution in North Carolina, sought after by every top-ranked law school graduate, because the pay is legendary, the benefits are beyond belief, and the work environment is cutting-edge. But that’s not why I wanted to come here.

I wanted to be a Knight & Payne attorney because the firm’s entire practice was built upon helping individuals. You won’t find any corporate lawyers here representing banks insistent on foreclosing on poor, unfortunate fools. You won’t find a single insurance company represented in these halls. Big business is the devil within this institution.

No, the founding attorney, Midge Payne, has it clearly written on her website for all to see that she represents only the downtrodden.

Come, any poor soul needing help.

That’s her freakin’ tagline.

It’s like an open-door policy for every miscreant and shiftless bum to seek help from the best attorneys in the state. We’re talking the dregs of society . . . drug dealers, pimps, prostitutes, homeless people, deviants, assholes, and various other scum. Some of these people are so vile most people would shun them. Many attorneys would refuse to help them, forgetting the fundamental concept that everyone deserves a fair shot at justice.

Don’t get me wrong—the firm represents ordinary citizens who need legal help, too, but the point is Midge Payne does not discriminate, other than she’ll only represent people, not corporations. She isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty, and that’s what I wanted in my law practice. I want to help those folks who need help lifting themselves out of the filth and grime of unfairness.

“Miss Michaels,” I hear from my left.

Turning my head, I see Da

Da

Da

Standing from my chair, I wipe my moist palms on my skirt and hold out my hand. “Mr. Payne, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

He gives me a look that could be a leer, or maybe it’s just a conspiratorial gesture of welcome, but he shakes my hand enthusiastically. “Come . . . Midge wants to talk to you.”

My breath hitches in my throat, and my nervousness ramps up tenfold. “Ms. Payne wants to see me?”

“It’s Midge,” he says with a smarmy grin. “We’re all on a first-name basis here. So it’s Da

“Um . . . okay. So, Midge wants to see me?”

This is unheard of. No one—and I mean no one—gets to see Midge Payne. She’s like the great and powerful Oz, hidden in a bejeweled tower, protected by the fiercest of dragons. It’s rumored that she comes in to work at 4:00 a.m. and doesn’t leave until after 9:00 p.m. She supposedly has a private elevator that takes her to the parking garage, and you get admittance to her office only by papal decree or something.

If Da

She’s what I aspire to be, and I hope I don’t let her down.

Da

My head is spi

She’s going to see me for the fraud that I am.

Da

I want one of those offices one day.

As we walk across the Pit, I get several smiles and nods from my new colleagues. Everyone is dressed differently. Some wear high-

powered suits, while others wear jeans and T-shirts. It’s one of the perks of working here—absolute autonomy in how you dress . . . how you look. I don’t bat an eye at one woman with pale white hair streaked with blue and her face covered in piercings, who sits at her desk smacking on bubble gum. She’s wearing a low-cut, shredded T-shirt and black leather pants with knee-high boots. She’s talking to a middle-aged man in a three-piece suit, who I assume is an attorney, but you never know. Hell, for all I know, she’s the attorney and he’s the secretary, which is what makes this firm so unique. Maybe my cheap suit won’t be so out of place, since we’re allowed to wear whatever we want unless we’re going to court or meeting with a client who might have tender sensibilities. Regardless, Da