Phil calls me into his office first thing to talk about my draft. I submitted a profile of Juniper, highlighting her journey to Olympic gold while also transforming the law office where she works. Stag Law used to just focus on male professional athlete contracts, but Juniper helped them expand to represent women's sports and other equity issues. Now Stag Law has a huge, national reputation as the go-to firm for equal rights or equal pay cases. They even handle cases for people who need legal protection based on their sexuality. I closed the article by describing Juniper sitting for the bar exam in various states, years after she finished law school and initially took the exam, so she'd be able to serve clients wherever they need.
Phil, of course, wants more. "Needs more grab," he tells me, sliding the marked up copy across the desk. That's it. The extent of his commentary. I interpret this brief speech as him sending me back into the field, which is how I find myself riding the elevator up to Stag Law to shadow Juniper at work for the day.
She greets me with a hug at the elevator and ushers me directly to the kitchen, where Alice is getting ready for lunch. "Can't talk now," she says, stirring a giant cauldron of something delicious-smelling. "I'll ring the bell in an hour and you can sit with me and Juniper and dish!"
I feel awkward accepting their friendship after Thatcher and I just tried finalizing plans to end things. But I had agreed to play the part for two more weeks. I wonder if there's a way to break up with Thatcher but still hang out with his family? I follow Juniper to her office, where the walls are decorated with pictures of her on the podium in Tokyo. I pause in front of a picture of her with Ty. She's got a gold medal around her neck and is beaming straight at the camera. Ty just looks at her, his face utterly transformed by love and pride. He's got an arm around her shoulder, squeezing like he never wants to let go. I want someone to look at me like that, I think, drawing a ragged breath.
"So," I ask her, sitting down opposite her desk. "What are you working on this morning?"
Juniper smiles and spins her laptop around. "I know I shouldn't," she says, "But I'm looking at wedding stuff." She's got a Pinterest board open with different ideas for favors and programs. She bites her lip, waiting for my response. I'm touched that she'd show me something so personal, so obviously important to her.
"You're quite a complex person," I tell her, scanning the different pictures.
Juniper says, "I want to do something that celebrates hockey and rowing…I mean those are really the things that are important to Tyrion and me…none of these templates have quite what I want."
"You know," I tell her, digging into my bag for a card. "Some of the graphic designers at work do this kind of thing on the side for spare cash." I find what I'm looking for. "I bet if you hit up Hillary she could lay out a program for you in a few hours."
"Really??" Juniper claps her hands. "This is the very last thing we have to really do before the wedding. That would be amazing." She snaps up the card and closes her laptop. "Ok, whew. Enough about that. Now we're going to drive over to the football stadium and yell at some offensive linemen who got a drunk and disorderly the other night."
A few hours later, and I know for sure I have Juniper's story rounded out. I can't wait to get back to my revision. I want to show everyone this amazing woman I've met, who can man-handle 300-pound football players and, in the next breath, navigate a settlement with a university who refused to offer equal scholarship funds to the women's varsity rifle team. By the end of the day, Phil agrees they can run the piece a few days before Juniper's wedding. He claps a hand on my shoulder. "Nice work, Cheswick," he says with a smile. "This will generate the kind of buzz we need, and it's writing that's got meat to it." He stands up from his desk, grabbing his bag. "I'd offer you a drink, but you don't do that. So I'm sending you home early to celebrate…however you do that sober."
I can't believe my boss said "nice work" to me. I'm doing really creative writing, interviewing interesting people and getting feature-length assignments in the biggest newspaper in the city. It's like a dream come true! I immediately text Nicole to see if she can get away for a bit.
When I get to her office, she's in the middle of an intense game of foosball with a group of colleagues. I lean against the wall, watching. I love how Nicole takes no shit from anyone, elbowing some guy out of the way when he tries to offer advice on how she can get more leverage. She sinks a goal and pumps her fist. "Yes! All right. Now, I'm taking a break for two hours. I expect that proposal on my desk when I get back, guys. I'm serious."
She drapes an arm over my shoulder and we walk out into the warm July sunshine. "Friend," she tells me. "We are going to get ice cream, and then buy you a dress for this celebrity wedding, and then you promised I could watch you get stoned." I laugh, relieved I can trust Nicole to help me find a dress my mother would hate, but will make me feel comfortable in a room full of lawyers and professional hockey players. "Do you think you can hook me up with any of those Fury hockey players?" she asks while we wait for our waffle cones. "I need to have some sex that has me limping like you, girl."