"So JC pipes up with that bullshit Hawaiian wedding idea and it was so corny, it pissed me off and I told him so. And then Nick told JC that Hawaii was out. Thank God."

My mom giggles on the other end of the phone line. We live fifteen minutes away from each other but I talk to her every day on my way to work. I'm dragging a little ass today. I ended up having a few more martinis and after midnight when Nick was officially off duty, he bought a round of shots to celebrate the engagement.

Unfortunately I have to be in the office today. Today is Tuesday, the day that the Partners assign associates to new cases. We can sit first chair-argue the case-or second chair, which is basically a courtroom assistant. We're there if needed but mostly a researcher. I'm praying for some second chair cases. I'm overloaded right now.

I make the firm sound like this large important prestigious place, and while I'm happy to have a job that makes ends meet, it's not all that. We're basically a step above Legal Aid. We do a lot of work with the community, helping residents fight evictions, utility shut offs, discrimination cases, landlord disputes. Every once in awhile we land a car accident or a lawsuit (one that will actually incur a settlement for damages), but those usually go to the partners. First and second year associates like Tyler get to do the grunt research work I give them. It's really the only perk of having been at the firm for over four years.

JC graduated in the same class as I did, but in law school it's all about the percentages. I was in the top five percent of our class, something to be proud of. JC graduated in the top fifty percent. Still a feat, but not if he got there by copying off of me on exams and stealing my study guides, where I'd written all of the answers. He was on Law Review-as was I, but unlike me, he basically flirted, fucked and bullshitted his way through. He worked his family contacts (his uncle is some big shot New York lawyer) and clerked with a huge firm every summer. I didn't have any contacts, so I clerked with Peterson, Flanning and Roarke- the firm I work for now. After he passed the Bar Exam-which I don't know how he managed;  he must have some brains somewhere in that big head of his--  he went to work for the Perry Law Group, a medium sized fancy firm that directly competes with us. I heard they offered him a nice salary plus bonuses and a secretary.

A secretary! I have Tyler, but only when they're not making him snake the drain in the kitchen or lug boxes up from storage.

The icing on the cake is that when a landlord wants to evict a tenant, the case goes through Perry, because they work that end of the law. The tenant usually comes to us and if we can't mediate, we go to court. And the top pick to go against cases assigned to me? Yep. Their star, JC Chasez. I haven't won a case against him yet. He loves to remind me of this.

Have I mentioned that I cannot stand him?

I'm still ranting to my mother as I pull into the gravel parking lot behind the storefront building that houses the firm. I thought about buying a new car, but as long as I have to park in this pit of loose, dusty rock every day, I'll keep driving the Corolla. 

JC just bought a brand new convertible Mercedes E Class. He loves to gun the engine while he's rolling down Orange Avenue. He's such a fucking show off.

Speaking of JC, a maroon Honda Civic pulls in next to me and Tyler bounces out of his car and waves a greeting to me. I sign off with my mom and toss the phone into my bag, grab my shoes from the backseat and walk toward the building with him.

"Heard you saw my bro last night."

"Did he tell you? About the wedding we're supposed to plan together? Is that the craziest thing you ever heard?"

Tyler nods, laughing. As we reach the rear door, he pulls a tattered badge from his pocket, swipes it across the reader and pulls the door open after it beeps. I walk in and he follows me through the door and down the hall into the kitchen.

"Did he tell you his dumbass Hawaii idea?"

I sit in one of the chairs around a table covered in sweet treats-cinnamon rolls, cookies and the like. The receptionist is an older woman in her fifties that loves to bake and it shows. I kick off the sneakers I wear when I drive to and from work and slip on my shiny black heels.

"He mentioned that you weren't into it. But he also said Nick was the one that nixed the idea."

"Yeah thank God Nick has class."

I joined him at the coffee pot with a paper cup. He fills my cup with enough room for cream and sugar, which I add generously. If I'm not going to eat that crap on the table, I'm going to drink some sugary sweet coffee.

"I'm not looking forward to this, Tyler. He's going to fight every idea I have, even though I know Morgan the best, just because it's my idea. He's going to plan the stupidest most..."  I shudder. "Most gauche and déclassé Bachelor party for Nick, and-"

"Bachelor parties are, for all intents and purposes, pretty déclassé. Only women do that fancy, law abiding, upstanding shit."

"Whatever, we hire strippers, too!"

I laugh, thinking of the last bachelorette party I planned and that delicious, hunky cowboy we hired to entertain us... I snap back to reality to find Tyler staring with a weird expression on his face.  "Anyway I know he'll get a kick out of pissing me off and he will not pass up an opportunity to do so."

"See, that's the thing. You gotta stop letting him know you're pissed off. It just makes him work harder to get under your skin."

"I can't help it. I don't know why he's so invested in driving me crazy."

Tyler laughs, stirring sugar into his black coffee. He turns, grabbing his black attaché case that is already scuffed on the bottom. "You know why. You know exactly why."

I sigh and roll my eyes, grabbing my own scuffed case and stomp toward my tiny, cramped office, where I don't have a secretary or a view of downtown Orlando like JC. I have a view of my old shitty car parked in a gravel parking lot.

"You guys are nut jobs," I toss over my shoulder, watching Tyler dip into his miniscule cubicle. "JC is not in love with me."

***

At the case assignment meeting, which is nothing more than sitting at a table with the two managing partners, Doug Flanning and Gregory Roarke, I find out that I'm first chair in a nasty discrimination dispute between a tenant and a slumlord. There's good documentation of discrimination--this case could actually bring a hefty settlement for our client. Greg hands me the file but doesn't let go when I grab it.

My eyes meet his and he says, quietly, "The landlord is with Perry. The case is assigned to Chasez. I'd give it to someone else but you're pretty much our senior associate and you know these cases like the back of your hand. We need a win here, Angie. Can you do this?"

I swallow hard and nod with confidence but my heart is at my knees. Somehow, in some way, JC got good at his job. Really good. Probably because he's evil. I honestly don't think I can beat him. But I just promised to try.

I'm flattered by the comments my boss made about knowing these discrimination cases better than anyone. He's right-they're my bread and butter. I win them day in and day out-more than any other attorney at this firm; I excel at turning up shreds of evidence and getting a settlement for my clients. The thing is that most other attorneys play fair. They follow the letter and the spirit of the law. We both present good cases and either let the mediator or the judge decide the fate.

JC only cares about money. He doesn't have a soft, compassionate bone in his body, and that's what makes him good (as in wins cases) at what he does. He'll go for the jugular if he has to. And he has had to. And maybe that's what scares me so badly about getting into in a court room with him.  I'm so afraid he's going to bring up that time I peed my pants in the third grade that I just freeze up.  I wouldn't put it past him.

I get back to my desk, hauling documents and paperwork, already mentally shuffling around my workload. This is going to take some serious time to put together. On top of this case, I also have to plan this wedding with him. I groan as I drop an armful of work onto my already cluttered desk.

My life just became All JC All the Time. Seriously, Fuck My Life.