Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Unfortunately, ‘partially furnished’ just means that there are a few items scattered throughout the small apartment that only slightly resemble pieces of furniture. The small table that serves as both dining table and desk is cracked down the middle. The two chairs that came with it don’t match, and the cushions are worn through. Even the chest of drawers is useless because three of the drawers won’t even budge. I keep hoping I don’t find anything horrible when I do finally pry those drawers open.
My lazy gaze drifts over to the small section of the studio that serves as my kitchen. It’s functional, at least. The fridge is full-sized, and there’s even a tiny oven below the two-burner stove. But in a weird oversight, none of the cupboards have doors. Apparently, the glass broke on them when the last tenant was living here, and the company didn’t care if they were replaced or not. As a result, my kitchen looks like it has staring eyes in the holes that should be cupboard doors.
I sit up abruptly.
Oh no. Draper Peabody owns this building. I bury my face in my hands and groan, the true depth of my plight hitting me. They’re going to ask me to move out.
My studio is one of their ‘starter apartments,’ the dirt-cheap kind that they offer struggling, fresh-out-of law school lawyers to help us while we build up our income. In exchange, they do absolutely no upkeep, and we aren’t allowed to complain.
I clamber out of bed, my heart racing.
“But if they own the apartment, that means they’re going to evict me,” I say out loud to my little home. “Where will I go?”
I glance around again, seeing the whole place in a new light. That wall paint isn’t so gross, and who cares about a little mold? At least this place is cheap.
“Michelle, you have got to stop spiraling.” I coach myself, clutching my hand to my heart and taking several deep breaths. When I finally feel calm again, I take two steps into the kitchen.
“Do something useful. Like make some food to accompany that cheap wine you’ve been drinking all day.”
Resolved, I walk the two short steps into the kitchen and rummage through my cupboards. “Aha! Comfort food.” I pull out the box of Mac ‘n’ Cheese and quickly start preparing it.
While I wait for the water to boil, I lay out my options.
“First, eviction is inevitable, so what’s next?”
I fidget with the cheese packet while I consider choices. My parents’ house is out of the question, especially since they didn’t support me coming to New York in the first place. They were shocked at the prices, and sure that I’d be beaten and murdered within one week.
I could go to June’s, I think but then shake my head. No, I don’t want to witness her constant parade of men every night. Plus, I’d be crimping her style.
“Okay, so no idea where to go. How about what to do?”
The water begins to boil rapidly. I pour in the noodles, hoping inspiration will strike. Instead, I find myself staring into the pot and replaying the events of the day over and over again in my mind.
Why was Jensen so angry?
Even though I screwed up badly, it still doesn’t make any sense. Reporting me to the authorities is a big deal. I’ll lose my law license, and no employer will hire me. But the problem with Jensen, as most of us junior lawyers know, is that he’s proud. Unfortunately, that pride only translates into wrath if any one of us contradicts him.
That must be why he was so worked up, I reason. During a client meeting, I did contradict him once, but it was only once and only because he’d made a factual error. When he’d reamed me out for that particular transgression, I opted to never challenge him again.
Oh shit. I bet he thinks I made him look bad in front of the client, and has decided to take it out on me.
It stings, knowing that I’m the fall woman for Jensen’s own stupidity, but it’s also a strange comfort to know that it wasn’t because I’m a horrible lawyer.
Just a spineless one, I think bitterly as I scoop the entire pot of Mac ‘n’ Cheese into a large bowl.
I head back to my bed, no longer caring to pretend that I’m fine. Tears begin to seep down my cheeks and I let out a small sob.
I’m clearly not okay. Because even if Jensen fired me just to protect his own ego, it still remains that I have no job, and no hope of practicing as a lawyer, period, if my license is revoked.
I think that is my biggest concern, I realize. Without a license to practice law, no law firm will hire me. They legally can’t. Plus, I have no way to challenge Jensen Draper. My brief genuinely wasn’t that great, although I hardly think it rises to the level of malpractice.