J'adore New York (12 page)

I recount my evening in excruciating detail and wait for her response.

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m attracted to a client, but I shouldn’t be. I’d like to date him, but I can’t and I won’t.”

“Okay, Mom. I guess you’ve already solved your big dilemma.”

“You think I’m being old-fashioned?”

“Maybe. I mean, how often do you get a chance to meet somebody you really connect with? Just keep your options open.”

“I’m worried about my reputation at the firm.”

“Why? You can date whomever you want. Attorney rules of conduct don’t prohibit it. Only lawyers involved in family law and divorce are forbidden from having personal relationships because of the weak emotional state of their clients.” She pauses for a moment. “Unless you use undue influence or coercion to obtain physical favours…but that could be kind of fun, don’t you think?” she adds jokingly.

“Very droll,
mon amie.
I don’t like the idea of mixing my personal life with work; I want to be taken seriously. I’m already on thin ice.”

“Just because this Antoine guy is a head case doesn’t mean you’re on thin ice. And you’re working on a deal with Jeffrey so you’ll see him again. You don’t have to decide right this minute. You could always wait until the deal’s done to get involved. Listen, kiddo, I’m going to bed.”

“Good night, Lisa. Thanks for being a good listener.”

I lie in bed analyzing every word that Jeffrey and I said during our evening alternately from the point of view of professional Catherine and crushing Catherine.

I finally fall asleep, exhausted like a tennis pro after winning a grand slam.

“L
ucky you to have someone watching out for you,” Scott remarks as soon as I set foot in the office the next morning.

“Excuse me?”

He throws a printed copy of Mel’s second email on my desk.

Ah, merde!
Rikash sent the email to Scott without my consent. How could he?

“Listen, Catherine, I want to apologize. I should have believed you and told this bozo to f-off in the first place.”

I sigh with relief; Scott does have moral backbone after all.

“Why didn’t
you
forward me this message? I would have resolved it immediately.”

“I don’t know. I guess I was upset and wanted to think about it before reacting. I have my own way of handling things.”

“You can say that again.” He nods toward Rikash’s cubicle.

“He can be rather unpredictable.”

“That’s an interesting way to describe him.” He winks. “He’s clearly looking out for your best interests. That’s a rare commodity in this place nowadays…” His voice trails off. “I just want you to know that you’re a valued member of the team.”

Ahhh, I feel like a weight has been lifted. I’m not naïve enough to think that Scott is complimenting me out of the kindness of his heart; I’m working (and docketing) long hours on his Browser deal and I’m helping him keep the client happy. And this gives him an edge in the mighty battle of the warlords. Antoine may be right about Scott using me, but at least he’s taking care of me, too.

“We’re going to meet some prospective banking clients at the Met Bank for a sales call. Care to join us? I think they would really enjoy meeting you since they have plans to expand in Europe.”

“Who’s we?”

“Bonnie, Nathan, and I.”

“Sounds good, thanks for thinking of me.”

“Great. I have a car waiting for us. We’ll meet you downstairs in five.”

“A car? It’s only a few blocks away.”

“I know. Bonnie doesn’t like to walk. It ruins her shoes.” Scott pulls a face—and I smile too, thinking of the time Rikash “forgot” to get her a car.

Nathan, Scott, and I sit in the cramped back seat of the
Town Car for thirty minutes before Bonnie makes her grand appearance in a skin-tight powder blue power suit.

Scott stares at her disapprovingly.

“What? Is there a problem?”

She throws her briefcase on the front seat and nearly knocks the driver out of his.

“You’re
very
late,” Scott hisses.

“I was on a call. As usual, a client wouldn’t let me go.”

“A bit on the short side, don’t you think?” He glares at her suit.

“Are you kidding? It’s
Geevenchee.
”

“Whatever,” he mumbles under his breath while shaking his head.

At the Met Bank offices, we’re greeted by an energetic woman and three men dressed in business casual.

“Hey, Scott, glad you could come meet us.”

“Sorry about being late, Amy, we hit some traffic.”

“No problem. Let’s have a seat in the boardroom. We’ll be more comfortable in there.”

“Amy, you know Bonnie and Nathan, but I’d like you to meet Catherine Lambert, who worked in our Paris office for six years before joining our New York group. She has significant banking experience and she’s been an excellent addition to the team.”

Bonnie and Nathan discreetly roll their eyes.

“Amy Lee. I’m the Director of Legal and Compliance here. Lovely to meet you. Would you like some coffee or anything to drink?” she asks.

“That would be lovely,” Bonnie answers, sprawling herself out at the head of the table before anyone else has taken a seat. “You wouldn’t happen to have a cappuccino machine, would you? I’m always in the mood for some
good
coffee.”

Scott gives her an evil stare.

“I’m afraid not,” Amy replies with a frown.

“Okay, then I’ll have a Diet Coke.”

As soon as everyone is seated, Bonnie cracks open her can of soda, throws her feet up on an empty chair, and launches haughtily into a soliloquy about her achievements and the firm’s accomplishments.

“You’ve probably read articles in the
Journal
about Edwards and White being lead counsel on that Blue Crest deal. We’re also at the top of the league tables in the IPO category and we represent most of the top-tier banks.”

Halfway through her speech, she drops her head and whips out her BlackBerry.

“So sorry,” she says while rolling the trackball. “There’s a reason they call these little things CrackBerrys, they’re so addictive.”

Oh mon dieu,
she’s really lost her marbles now. I sit at the opposite end of the table shell-shocked. How is it that this woman became a partner? Shouldn’t she be focusing on the client’s needs rather than going on about our firm?

“The only problem with these little babies is that if you use
them too much, you develop a BlackBerry
thumb.
It’s killed my squash game.”

Scott is now a deep shade of violet. Trying to save face, he interrupts Bonnie and mumbles something about an article in today’s
Times
about Met Bank’s positive financial earnings. Uninterested in Scott’s spiel, the four in-house lawyers sit transfixed, gazing at Bonnie as if she were medusa. The male attorney to Amy’s right seems particularly interested in the length of her skirt.

Actually, this is kind of fun. All of a sudden, I’m humming the words to ZZ Top’s “Legs” in my head, a song I used to dance to with Lisa back in law school.

“So what are your biggest challenges these days?” Bonnie asks nonchalantly. “I’m assuming it must be difficult for you to keep track of all the new banking regulations and exceptions under Regulation R of the Gramm Leach Bliley Act?” she continues before Amy or anyone else can respond.

The four lawyers nod in agreement.

“While keeping your outside counsel fees low?”

They again nod in tandem.

“I’ve found that some of my clients save time and money using an electronic banking regulation service. If you’re interested, you can use our access free of charge for a few weeks. Also, you shouldn’t worry too much, since Regulation R includes a delayed compliance date—you’re safe until the first day of the first fiscal year end after next September. Which for you means February 1st
next
year. And I definitely think your activities fall in one of the bank registration exemptions.
If you want, I’ll send you a memo I drafted last week on the subject.”

“That would be fantastic!” Amy responds, her eyes wide with excitement. “And we’d love to try out that service.”

“That would be really great!” the lawyer to the right of Amy tells Bonnie’s calves.

“I’ll have Catherine send you the memo and a link to the service,” she finishes before standing, ready to leave.

Now I get why Bonnie gets away with her outlandish behaviour: she’s a damn good lawyer. With a performance like that, it’s easy to see why she’s one of the top-rated corporate attorneys in the city and I can see how clients feel that she truly understands their business needs and genuinely respect her for it. I glance over to see storm clouds gathering on Scott’s face—this clearly isn’t going to be
his
client any longer.

“I assume you have final say on retaining external counsel?” Bonnie asks Amy while reaching for her briefcase. “If not, we should probably be meeting with someone at the bank who
does.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Amy answers. “I do.”

“Great. We look forward to working with you then. This was a very productive meeting, don’t you think?” She extends her slim Verdura-cuffed arm to shake Amy’s hand.

“Yes, very.” The three men concur while rising to catch a better glimpse of her cleavage.

A perplexed Nathan, an angry Scott, and an amused
moi
follow in the waft of her heavy perfume.

Back on the twenty-eighth floor, I notice that Antoine’s office is empty.

“He packed all his stuff overnight,” Mimi remarks as she sees me peering into the vacant space. “I guess he was in a rush to get to Paris.”

“I thought he was leaving at the end of the month? No goodbyes, no going-away party?” I ask, stunned.

“Nope.” She shakes her head. “You know Antoine, he’s all work and no play.”

I feel a pinch in the pit of my stomach. How could he leave without saying goodbye? A mixture of sadness and disillusionment comes over me. I had thought that we might’ve eventually become friends after he asked me to be his main contact in New York, but our last conversation ended any hopes of that happening.

“So how was it?” Rikash asks as I walk by his cubicle.

“Fascinating. I’ve never seen someone land a client that way.”

“Not the meeting, silly girl. Your date with Mr. Browser. Did you get lucky?”

“First of all, it wasn’t a date, and even if it was I would never do that on the first date. Don’t you know that men never call you back if you do?”

“That’s exactly
why
I do it. Anyway, do tell me about your evening.”

“Not bad.”

“Really? I would’ve guessed otherwise, given what’s sitting on your desk.”

A box wrapped in silver paper with a big red bow is sitting on top of numerous files and documents. A little card reads,
“Thanks for a fantastic evening. Enjoy.
A très bientôt,
Jeffrey
.”

I open the box to find an Ella Fitzgerald CD box set and a bottle of J’adore. Although I’m touched by his gesture, it feels awkward receiving such a personal gift from a client. In the harsh light of day, I feel as though keeping it strictly professional is the right decision. I’ve learned my Mel lesson.

“It looks like you had a pretty great evening to me.”

I raise my shoulders in response.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on, don’t be such a sourpuss, tell me! We’re all one big dysfunctional family, you know. We don’t keep secrets from each other.”

“Let’s just say we had a major interruption that kind of ruined the evening.”

“What kind of interruption? The jealous wife kind?”

“Antoine vibrated me out of Carnegie Hall because there was a problem with that document for American Bank.”

“Oh, crap. I hope it wasn’t my fault? I sent the document the way you asked me to.”

“It had nothing to do with you. Antoine made me come back to the office for no reason other than to ruin my night.”

“What’s up with him? One day he’s got your back and the next he can be such a toad.”

“You can say that again. I’ll be fine if I never I have to deal with him again. Good riddance.”

I sit in front of my computer and an email entitled
“PRIVILEGED AND CONFIDENTIAL”
from Jeffrey is waiting for me in my inbox.

To the Browser IPO team, Please clear your agendas for Monday morning. The SEC is inquiring about an interview conducted by
Business Magazine
with the senior management of Browser and is threatening to delay the offering. This could potentially throw off our timetable and affect pricing of the deal.

My secretary will send meeting details under separate cover. Your immediate attention to this matter is greatly appreciated.

Thanks. Jeff Richardson.

I press reply and write him a formal thank-you email for his gift and he responds partly in French:

Avec plaisir, ma chère
Catherine.

Have a wonderful weekend. See you on Monday.

As I stare at the gift box on my desk, my mind spins. Normally, I would be leery of such clichéd pursuit tactics. But for some reason, he’s getting under my skin. Why couldn’t I have met him at a jazz club instead?

A
s Oscar Wilde put it, the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it. But it’s not always the best idea to take advice from a man who died heartbroken, exiled, and penniless. As Jeffrey gets ready to address the crowd gathered at Browser’s headquarters, I feel grateful that Scott is seated next to me and keeps me focused on work.

“I’m getting really worried about timing,” Jeffrey announces, standing at the front of the room with his shirt sleeves rolled up. (And looking really handsome. Catherine, cut it out!) “The CEO granted an interview to
Business Magazine
just before we filed the Registration Statement and
Business
is planning to print the article just before we price the deal. The SEC wants to impose a cooling off period before we go live.”

“So what happens now?” one of the bankers throws to the crowd of legal professionals.

“I think we have a major regulatory concern,” a prominent lawyer and former SEC staff member who represents the underwriters declares. “The SEC can force Browser to delay the offering. They’ve done it several times before.”

I’m fumbling through my memory. The interview could delay Browser’s offering because securities regulators restrict what company executives can say publicly while preparing to sell stock for the first time. Is there a way out of this, though?

My heart racing, I somehow gather the courage to throw in my two cents.

“I disagree.”

About twenty-two pairs of eyes turn scornfully toward me. I catch a few of them glaring at my black patent stilettos. My stomach drops and I begin to sweat. I can feel Scott’s eyes on me.

“Oh?” Jeffrey responds.

“I think a valid argument can be made that Browser’s IPO has already been extensively covered in the press and the article doesn’t add anything new.”

“I think that’s pretty weak,” the ex-SEC official counters. Scott throws me a stern look.

“I’ve argued this point before and it worked.”

“I don’t mean to burst your bubble, missy, but I’ve been at this for far longer than you have.”

“I’m not disputing that, sir, but isn’t your job to represent your client’s best interests? I don’t think allowing the SEC to delay this offering is in any of our best interests.”

“I agree,” Jeffrey concurs.

Humiliated, the former SEC lawyer squirms in his chair.

“Catherine, can you please call the regulators to discuss this point? I’d like you to take the lead on this,” Scott announces proudly.

“Sure, happy to.”

At the end of the meeting, while Scott is caught up in a conversation with another lawyer, Jeffrey rushes toward me.

“Wow, you don’t suffer fools, do you? I was impressed back there. How about grabbing a quick coffee?”

“Don’t have time. I need to make an important call to the SEC, remember?”

“Lunch?”

“You’ll need to check with Rikash, my assistant. My lunch schedule is quite full these days. Maybe I can squeeze you in on Wednesday.”

“So you want to squeeze me, do you? Wednesday it is then.”

He walks out of the room with a large satisfied grin. I exit with a look of victory on my face. Bravo, Catherine!