I can barely contain my excitement as I make my way to the filing room. I shut the door and break into a little happy dance.
It’s rare that I’m this ecstatic at work. Or anywhere, really.
I am a fuck-up. A fuck-up plain and simple. I’m twenty years old and happy to have this job as an entry level worker at this law firm.
The job description was a little vague so I straight up asked them at the interview what exactly my job even is. I was informed that the term “secretary” is no longer politically correct. The proper term is “legal assistant.” But even that wouldn’t be my fucking job title.
I’m just a “floater.” I fill in here and there when needed and I help with everything from filings, dictation, coffee and ordering meals for conferences. I thought that last part would be fun but they limit me to my choice of two mediocre sandwich and soup joints so I don’t get to make a lot of executive decisions.
Nor do I get a lot of opportunities to do happy dances like I’m doing now. But this the first time that Cameron Sanchez has talked to me. A lot of people around here call him “Ron” but I like to think of him as Cameron. It’s an exotic sounding name that matches his looks and personality.
He’s so fucking hot. He knows it too. He struts around the firm as if everyone should bow down and worship him. And they do. At least as far as his looks are concerned.
No one seems to take his position as named partner of the firm very seriously. All of that respect gets lavished on Asher Marks. Everyone around here sees Asher as some kind of god but I know that Cameron is the man behind the man. Or even the man in front of the man. He just knows how to be humble about it.
“What’s up with you?” someone asks.
I jump. Fuck.
I could barely hear anything over the sound of the Red Elvises but I know I heard something for sure. I remove my headphones and turn around, hoping I don’t get reprimanded by some scary partner or bitchy paralegal.
But then I see that it’s only Katie, slumped up against a filing cabinet in the corner. Her messy blonde hair almost covers her face but I’d know her super relaxed posture and apathetic facial expression anywhere.
Whew.
Katie is the person at this firm who comes the closest to being a fuck up like me.
She’s a really chill— perhaps too chill— secretary—make that “legal assistant”— who always hangs out in here when the partner she works for is in court or otherwise doesn’t need her.
“What the hell?” I ask, waving a hand over the putrid- smelling waft of air floating through this enclosed space.
“Sorry,” she says, passing me her vape pen. “You wanna hit?”
“No,” I tell her. “Geez.”
I’d already told her I can’t do that at work. I’m so grateful to be here, even if it is only as a floater. I still can’t believe this place hired me— nor what I had to do to even get to a place where reputable jobs would consider hiring someone like me— and I’ll gladly take what I can get.
“I can’t afford to fuck my life up any further by getting caught doing drugs at work,” I explain yet again to Katie.
I’d already told her a million times. But I’m sure she just forgot because she’s always so stoned.
“Let alone piss dirty on a drug test.”
She laughs.
“They don’t drug test people here. Drug tests aren’t for law firms. Lawyers believe in civil fucking rights and shit. And constitutional ones too.”
Now I’m the one who laughs, but she keeps going.
“Plus, the law is rife with drug users. Do you know how many lawyers and even judges would fail a drug test, due to all the coke they do? Have you ever watched the movie ‘Puncture’?”
“No,” I tell her, as I begin searching through the files and putting any with red star Sticky Notes into the cart that I’m wheeling. “I don’t have enough of an attention span to sit through a movie.”
“Oh, that’s all I do when I’m not working,” Katie says.
As she takes another hit of her vape pen and falls into some kind of weed stupor I refrain from saying, “No shit, Stoner.”
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like I’ve never smoked pot before. Shit, I’ve done every drug under the sun— back then. But this is now.
The new me doesn’t smoke pot. Ruby Mansfield is all about getting her act together. Except, damn, it would be hot to get with Cameron Sanchez.
I’m sure that sleeping with your boss is more than frowned upon in this new professional world I’ve entered but I also can’t help thinking of it as one of those forbidden things that feels wrong to actually do but oh so good to think about. When I really admit it, it would probably feel oh so good to actually do, too.
As if reading my mind— or remembering what she had wanted to ask me about initially— Katie seems to perk up a little bit from her pot-induced zombie phase long enough to mumble, “So what were you jumping around about when you first got in here?”
I shrug, trying not to blush.
“Nothing.”
“Come on,” she says, “Spill it.”
What the hell? I think.
It’s not like she’s going to remember after a few more hits of weed anyway.
“All right, fine,” I tell her. “Cameron Sanchez just talked to me. Holy shit.”
I do a little happy dance again, not even caring how stupid I look.
“You’ve never talked to him before?” she asks.
“No. And I’ve been crushing on him hardcore since I started here.”
“Well, who doesn’t?” she asks.
“I know, right! He’s so tall, dark and handsome. He’s got that exotic and mysterious look down pat. Like Johnny Depp or Antonio Banderas.”
I add this last part to wake her up again, since I know she likes movies. But she has already taken another hit and is drifting back off to near sleep.
“He’s definitely the most underrated partner and could double for Antonio Banderas,” Katie agrees.
I guess my actor references worked.
“And he’s a lot more down to earth than Asher, who walks around acting like he’s the only hot guy in the place.”
“I know, right!” I tell Katie, glad someone else agrees.
“Except for today,” I tell her. “Cameron is walking around pretty upset today. He was saying something about losing an argument in court.”
“Wow, I don’t think he ever loses,” Katie says.
“I know. I guess this judge is biased.”
I rap my fingers along the accordion file I’d just picked up off the shelf before dumping it into the cart with the rest of the files.
“So now they have to file motions in all of these cases, to get rid of him.”
“Being a lawyer sounds so awful,” Katie says, as she lays her head up against the metal shelf.
She sets her vape pen down beside her, finally finished.
I agree with her. I don’t plan to be at the law firm of Marks, Sanchez and Reed very long but it’s a stepping stone to my new future. The Ruby Mansfield I want to be doesn’t admit this to co-workers though— even if it’s just Katie. And even if I did just admit to her that I wish I could be with Cameron.
Whatever. She basically admitted the same thing to me.
Katie is drifting off again but she opens an eye and says, “Do you know that Asher Marks and Madilyn St. Clair are together?”
“Sure,” I tell her. “Everyone knows that.”
I was barely here for a whole minute when I heard the gossip that Asher always chooses a favorite associate to mentor in more ways than one and that this year his pet is Madilyn.
“No, I mean, they’re like really really together,” she says. “Like, for real for once.”
“What do you mean?” I ask her, but she’s almost asleep.
“The real deal,” is the only thing I can make out from her mumbles.
“Well, this is the last of the red stars,” I say, pointing to the stacks of folders featuring my Sticky Notes.
I shrug and then I precariously place a folder on top of a pile balancing on the cart.
“Guess I have to go see Cameron again so I can drop these off to him. Poor me.”
I fake sniffle.
Katie tries to laugh a bit, but her eyes are nearly closed.
“Wake me up if anything important happens,” she says. “And good luck with your dream guy.”
Dream guy indeed, I think, as I push the heavy cart towards Cameron’s office.
I only wish such dreams could come true.