Billionaire Secrets of a Wanglorious Bastard (3 page)

“Thanks. It took a lot of cock for me to get the job. Now, let's see.”

She found a folder and read. “Rufus Wang. Columbia Law. Impressive.”

“It's nothing.”

“You don’t have a practice group.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn't pick no area of specialty.”

“I did. I'm supposed to work in the art law group with Goldberg and Helmsley.”

“Goldberg and Helmsley haven't been with the firm for two months.”
 

“What about the rest of the art law group?”

“They took it and all of their clients with 'em to Olympus.”

The Olympus Firm was the preeminent entertainment firm in the country. I didn’t bother interviewing there because they didn’t have Goldberg and Helmsley. Krueller previously promised me I would work with them, although I never met them and/or anyone in their practice group.
 

“But the only reason I came here was to do arts law. If I knew it had dried up, I wouldn’t have picked.”

“Wouldn't have picked what?”

“I don't know what I'm going to do.”

“Why not try a little work in different departments so's you get a feel for what you wanna do?”
 

“How about pro bono from Lawyers Doing Bono? Can I take a pro bono case from them?”
 

“You have to do normal billable work first.”

“What do you have?”

“Nothin' now. I'll take you to your sibling after the grip and grin.”
 

“Grip and grin?”

Britney took me on a tour of the firm and introduced me to lawyers, secretaries, and paralegals that all did the same thing: gripped my hand, introduced themselves with a grin, and then shook my hand.

Unfortunately, all of the partners seemed leery of me. The expressions, tense body language, and apprehension suggested either fear or “the fuck is this guy doing here?”

I knew I was in for a long day.

8

BRITNEY KNOCKED ON
the door of an office three flights down from Stack. Which was heavenly. Not the office, I meant being so far away from Stack. It made the likelihood he’d grab me for some case or harassment that less likely.

Answering Britney’s knock was a super-peppy woman who looked like an Olivia Pope wannabe. And I hated
Scandal
, so that wasn’t a good thing.

Olivia Jr. bounced to me and waved. “Hi!”

Britney said, “Xandra, this is Rufus.”

I extended my hand and Xandra hugged me. A deep, long-lost friend kind of hug. I felt her boobs press up against me. Pretty big, too. Maybe Walker had interviewed her. “Brother! We'll be great siblings!”

Brother? They were serious about this “sibling” shit? All I could muster? “I guess.”

The hugging turned into rubbing. “It's my job to let you know what goes on in the firm.”

I wasn't sure what that meant. “Thanks.” I tried freeing myself by stepping back.

She wouldn't release her embrace. And I felt her nipples pop up. “You made the right choice coming here. This firm is the best. It's not like any other firm in the world.”

“That's good to know.” I stepped to the left.

She followed. Still hugging. “Partners care about you, and we do work so interesting you look at your watch and feel cheated you only have twenty-four hours in a day to do it!”

I didn’t know which was worse. Being mugged by a hug or her pep. If I was in a different place, this would be great. Since I was taken, this had to end. So I stepped on her toe. “Sorry.”

She yelped. I felt guilty until she smiled. “It is good. It's all good.” When Lola is the most normal person I'd met, you know something's wrong. So no, it wasn't all good.

Something seemed to catch her eye. She stepped out of the office and called down the hall. “Rick? Can you come here, please?”

“Rick” looked like a corporate tool. Too much hair gel. Too stiff in his suit. He rushed to Xandra. “What is it?”

Xandra pulled me out of the office and pushed me into Rick. “This is Rufus. It's his—”

Rick raised his hands, palms out. Trying to avoid a hug? “Look, I'm too busy to talk, okay?”

He skedaddled away with a quickness I’d only seen in animal attack videos.
 

I waved to him. “Nice to meet you too.”

My “sibling” offered a most unwelcome shoulder rub. “Don't mind him. He's the firm's biggest biller. And my role model. You could learn a lot from him.”

Her hand lingered and I shifted my body. “So, where's my office?”

9

WE MADE IT
to my office. It would only comfortably fit one child-sized desk and computer set.

Xandra put her hand on the small of my back. Weird. And led me to the computer.
 

“Let me show you something.” She pointed to a timer that read “HOURS NEEDED: 100.”
 

“This is your billing log.”

“My what?”

“The firm needs to make sure you're getting all of the experience you can get while you're here.”

I guessed she was referencing what people complained about the summer firm experience versus post-graduation full-time working. There was a joke that the devil and God decided to give a man a choice of how they wanted to spend all eternity, and gave a preview. Heaven was full of people bowing to God and singing hymns. Hell was a party. The man picked hell, and upon his death, was shocked to see hellfire and brimstone, whips and chains, gnashing of teeth. “Wait a minute. This isn't what I was shown.” The devil laughed. “That was our summer program.”
 

Xandra wanted to give me a preview.
 

“Billables are our bread and butter. Every hour you work on a matter that is billable, you log it in. That information is then billed to the clients. Get it? Billed to the client, ergo, billables.”

“How much do I get billed?”

“You'll be a first year, so your rate will be two hundred and fifty an hour. You'd need to bill one hundred hours.”
 

“How long will I have to complete them?”

“The end of the week.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

She shot me a look that seemed to suggest I was the crazy one.

“What happens if I didn't?”

“Didn't what?”

“Didn’t bill one hundred hours?”

“A fair and equitable man will make a fair and equitable decision.”

“I’ll be fired?”

She stared at the ground.
 

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’”

Her eyebrows rose and she pursed her lips.

“What constitutes billing?”

“Working on a matter for a client. For example, I billed six hours last night and three hours this morning.”

“Doing what?”

“When I woke up this morning I was thinking about a dream I had last night, and I realized it was about work. I slept for six hours, so I'm billing that.”

“For realz?”

“When I was getting ready for work, I was thinking about a case I'm working on and couldn't stop thinking about it until I got to work. I'm talking about the case right now to you, so I'm still billing.”

“Let me get this straight. You bill when you think about the case, no matter how abstract, right?”

“Right.”

“And the client pays you two hundred and fifty dollars an hour for just thinking abstractly about the case.”

“No. I get paid three hundred and fifty an hour. I'm a third year.”

Britney skanked in. “Rufus, we need to finish the tour.”

Xandra’s jaw dropped. “OMG. I am so sorry.”

Britney waved her apology away. “Don’t worry yourself, hon.”

Xandra dropped on her knees. Right at Britney’s feet. “So sorry. So sorry.”

Britney stepped over her and summoned me to follow.

I turned to see Xandra sobbing uncontrollably. Complete with body heaves.
 

Note to self, find somewhere else to work after getting an offer.
Maybe a Miami firm? Or somewhere that had a better lifestyle.

10

BRITNEY AND I
waited outside an office with a placard that read “MASAHIRO KAWADA” in English and what I assumed to be Japanese kanji.
 

I recognized it from all the Japanese movies, manga, puro, and MMA I watched over the years.

A voice coming straight out of a Toshiro Mifune flick bellowed from the office. “Enter.”

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.”