The Break-Up Clause by Niamh Hargan

Chapter Twenty-Five

Thursday night, and at least thirty of ZOLA’s mid-level, junior and summer associates are all crammed into a sports bar near Bryant Park. Jackets have been cast aside by this stage, though. A few of the women have gone to the toilets and attempted some subtle day-to-night modifications, red or fuchsia painted on their lips. Twenty-four hours from now, the Fourth of July long weekend will have begun in earnest, and already there appears to have been a collective agreement that tomorrow’s workday barely counts. It’s a mere formality. Just the thought of four solid days, and soon, on which the office will actually be closed – nobody will be able to get in there even if they want to – seems to have made everyone a little loopy.

Waiting at the bar for her gin and tonic, Fia couldn’t be less interested in whatever baseball game is being shown on a dozen HD screens. Instead, she surveys the scene. While it does involve a lot of the same people, this is not at all like the events scheduled as part of ZOLA’s official summer programme. The firm’s higher echelons are not circulating tonight. There is not even the pretence of any edifying element. This a piss-up, plain and simple.

And Fia’s all for that, to a point. She’s not immune to the sensation of having been somehow unleashed. She hasn’t, throughout her twenties, entirely denied herself the pleasure of occasionally drinking far more than is medically advisable. But she picks her moments. And her moments are absolutely never in large groups of people, none of whom owe her any very close allegiance. Once bitten, eight years shy, and all that. In the time it’s taken for her to arrive at her third drink of the evening, others around her have easily had four, plus two shots. Already, she can see some people beginning to get a very specific sort of messy. Tongues are loosening, hands are wandering, professional distance is falling away little by little.

As far as workplace relationships go, ZOLA can only outright forbid them where there is a power differential. Even among employees of equal standing in the hierarchy, though, fraternization is certainly not encouraged. Lawyers wanting to date one another are obliged to declare such an intention in advance to Human Resources, and to sign what Fia thinks is technically called a Consensual Relationship Agreement – more commonly known, and mocked, as a ‘love contract’: the opposite, perhaps, to the scrap of paper she and Benjamin once signed in a Vegas hotel lobby.

As for more casual liaisons – non-sanctioned ones – of course, they happen. They happen all the time, and often thanks to nights just like this one. There is a certain honour code, though, within the resulting whisper network and rumour mill. Like highschoolers who agree, on pain of death, not to tell our parents, so, too, do ZOLA’s young and young-ish lawyers conspire to keep certain exploits beyond the eyes and ears of the firm’s partners. Not that Fia has ever needed the benefit of such solidarity. She herself has never dipped her pen in the company ink – setting aside Ryan Sieman, of course, who is so far away it barely counts, and with whom she has never actually shared an office building.

She’s on her way back from the bar when she spots Benjamin, lingering by a large barrel functioning as a table. Beside him is another of the summer associates – a girl named Riley – and she stops Fia on her way past.

‘Oh my gosh, Fia! Will you tell this guy,’ she says, giving Benjamin a playful nudge, ‘that the Hamptons is not all bougie. I swear, parts of it are actually very low-key and unspoiled.’ Her words are the slightest bit slurred as she gazes up at him. ‘Maybe you just haven’t had the best tour guide.’

This is all it takes – ten seconds maximum – for Fia to get the measure of the situation before her: this girl is a walking, talking heart-eyes emoji.

Meanwhile, Benjamin himself does not seem remotely aware of it – or if he is, he certainly isn’t encouraging it. He just shrugs, taking a sip from his beer. ‘You could be right,’ he says easily.

And from the tone of his voice, the expression on his face, Fia can tell: he isn’t flirting. He isn’t feigning nonchalance. Neither is he being rude or dismissive. This is simply a conversation in which he has an extremely average amount of interest. He’s also about as sober as she is herself – in other words, maybe not altogether, but mostly. That’s the other thing that Fia can see right away. Maybe, she thinks, he learned some lessons from their little trip to Las Vegas, too.

Returning to the discussion at hand, Fia has absolutely nothing to contribute on the subject of the Hamptons, other than that she always thought they were – or rather, apparently, it was – plural. Instead, she just smiles and moves things along.

‘So, uh, how’s everything been going?’ she asks Riley, purely for something to say to her. ‘You still enjoying it okay at ZOLA?’

Despite the effusiveness with which the other girl greeted her, their previous interaction has in fact amounted to one single conversation, at a ‘lunchtime symposium’ on securities lending. On that occasion, a fortnight ago, Riley happily referred to both herself and all the other summer associates as ‘baby lawyers’, which was up there with ‘pretty please’ and ‘mama bear’ in terms of phrases Fia could not stand. However, she tried not to fixate on it.

‘Absolutely.’ Riley beams, and even in her present state of inebriation, she still turns out to be a talker. Americans are often like that, in Fia’s experience. Presumably it is to do with the way they have been socialized – or educated, maybe. They seem to assume that the thing they have to say is valuable, and that you are bound to be very interested in hearing it.

Of course, Fia actually isn’t at all interested in whatever Riley has learned about the finer workings of one company taking over another company. What’s more, she strongly suspects that, beside her, Benjamin knows it. Last night, just briefly, she took off the mask she typically wears at work, and now she has the sense that he can see right through her, can read her true thoughts even as she nods along with Riley, making the appropriate sounds at appropriate intervals. It’s an odd sensation – as if two conversations are somehow happening at once, one of them entirely silent.

‘I’m learning a ton, though,’ Riley eventually concludes, draining her wine glass. ‘And it’s awesome to be able to try a little bit of everything. Before I started at ZOLA, my friend from back home – he’s a first-year associate at Dentons in Boston now – was telling me that the whole experience is, like, basically summer camp for lawyers. So far, he’s been kinda right!’

At this, Benjamin suddenly looks a bit more alive. ‘Summer camp, huh?’ he says slyly. ‘You know anything about those, Fia?’ His eyes narrow as they land on her, amusement flickering.

She looks right back at him, and she feels something – some little spark of energy, of interest – ignite in her brain, too. ‘I don’t,’ she says smoothly, feigning innocence, curiosity. ‘Do you, Benjamin?’

‘Not really. I hear the supervision can be very …’

‘Lax?’ she suggests.

‘I was going to say “rigid”,’ he replies.

She can’t help but snort out a laugh, even as she rolls her eyes.

Riley opens her mouth to add something, but she’s quickly cut off.

‘Boo!’ comes a voice from behind them, and Fia jumps, feeling an arm loop around her shoulders. When she turns, Kavita is standing there, Annie beside her.

‘Oh my God!’ she exclaims, caught wholly unawares. ‘What are you two doing here?’

‘Oh, you know. We just thought we’d drop by,’ Kavita says with a grin, and in the circumstances, Fia feels that her only response can be via some very intense wtf eye contact aimed at each of her roommates in turn.

A flurry of introductions follow, shortly after which Riley absents herself to replenish her drink. Then, there’s a slightly awkward lull, the strangeness of this little group rising unavoidably to the forefront of Fia’s mind.

Kavita leaps into the conversational gap, undaunted. ‘So, you guys are all off to the old Emerald Isle next week, huh?’ she begins, and every time Fia is reminded of that, some part of her seems to be shocked anew. Just the thought of Benjamin in Dublin still feels like such an oxymoron.

‘Right,’ he replies.

‘You excited to meet the in-laws?’ Kavita continues, new bite in her tone this time. ‘You know, Benjamin, this really is none of my business, but I have to say, you’ve got some nerve, dude. Have you ever thought about ghosting in the Olympics? Let’s be honest, it’s a pretty competitive sport these days, but you were such an early adopter that I’m sure—’

‘All right,’ Fia interrupts, with a little laugh intended somehow to be conciliatory, ‘let’s all get back in our corners, shall we?’

Her eyes dart around as if to ensure there are no listening ears. Undoubtedly, that’s a huge part of her concern right now. She can’t afford another slip-up, like the one with Brett back at the company softball game. However, she’s prepared to admit – at least to herself – that there might be other reasons why she jumped in, too. For a second there, she could see that hard, closed expression begin to cloud Benjamin’s features – the same one she’s seen before when this topic arises. She doesn’t like it. Naked hostility, bullshit assertions – those things she can take from him and toss right back at him if need be. But she doesn’t like that expression.

And, by now, perhaps she simply is somewhat tired of re-treading this particular ground. While, in principle, there should be a major appeal to watching Kavita expertly rip Benjamin Lowry a new one, in practice she finds she’s just … not in the mood for it. Not tonight.

‘So, Benjamin, Fia tells us you guys are working together on this influencer thing,’ Annie starts then, in the interests of smoothing things over. ‘BabyGAndMe? How’s all that going?’

Fia, too, does her bit to get the conversation back on track. ‘How come you’re never this interested in my trusts and estates?’ she jokes.

Annie just smiles sweetly. ‘’Cause they’re so much less interesting.’

‘Ha ha,’ Fia says sarcastically, but she’s smiling herself.

‘Well, I think Fia and I maybe have slightly different instincts about Alyvia Chestnut,’ Benjamin chimes in, and then he turns to look at Fia. ‘Actually, I finally got a hold of her earlier about coming back into the office – with Gus. Turns out she’s been on some sort of sponsored trip to Montana. You ever wondered how Gus would look in a cowboy hat? Maybe a little lasso? ’Cause you can be damned sure you’re about to find out in the next week.’

Fia chuckles into her drink, even though it’s probably thoroughly unprofessional. She can’t help it.

‘Anyhow, at this point I figure we’ll have to wait ’til after the Summer Summit, right?’ Benjamin continues.

‘I suppose so. And remember I’m in Ireland an extra week afterwards.’

Benjamin arches both eyebrows, his voice rising teasingly, too. ‘Oh, what, so you don’t trust me to handle the meeting without you, is that it?’

‘That’s absolutely it,’ Fia tosses back, zero hesitation.

She has to say, Benjamin doesn’t look too put out, though. Instead, he cracks a smile. ‘Fine, I’ll schedule it for as soon as you’re back.’

‘Back from Dublin,’ Kavita prompts from beside them. Momentarily, Fia had somewhat forgotten that anyone else was present at all.

‘Right,’ Benjamin says.

‘It really is so fun that your firm sets up these trips every year,’ Kavita replies, and she seizes upon the chance to say the thing she’s maybe wanted to say all along. ‘Do you think Ryan Sieman will be there this time, Fi?’

‘Uh … as far as I know, yeah,’ Fia replies, and for Benjamin’s benefit, she adds, ‘Ryan’s a lawyer – a solicitor – in the Dublin office.’

‘Very cute,’ Kavita says, which – though something Kavita herself has observed only from photographs – is true. And, as she lowers her voice conspiratorially, she, too, is clearly talking directly to Benjamin now. ‘He’s kind of obsessed with her.’

That part isn’t true at all, but Fia finds she doesn’t especially mind. In some way that’s bound to be very juvenile and illogical, she can’t deny that it’s nice for Benjamin to know she hasn’t been living an entirely sexless existence all these years.

‘Is that right?’ Benjamin replies, before looking over at Fia, his eyebrow quirking slightly. ‘Obsessed, huh, Irish?’

And, for a second, she finds herself unable to do anything but look back at him. ‘You need to stop with that,’ she tells him, but when she hears her own voice aloud, it doesn’t seem to have much force to it. Could it be this third drink, hitting her now? She does seem to feel unusually … floaty – as though she is being carried along by something, some force that, for good or for bad, is a little outside her control.

‘Stop with what?’ he asks.

‘You know what.’

He smiles a half-smile in return, and in the silence that follows between them, Fia’s peripherally aware of Annie and Kavita having some sort of wordless communication of their own.

‘Hey, Benjamin, can you excuse us for just one second?’ Kavita pipes up, and she wastes no time waiting for a response. ‘Thanks so much, we’ll be right back!’

She tugs Fia by the hand, Annie in tow, too, until the three of them have found a quiet corner on the far side of the bar.

‘What are we doing?’ Fia yelps. ‘You’ve made me spill half my drink!’

Kavita hops up onto a bar stool, letting Fia settle herself before she continues. ‘Girl, I have some bad news for you,’ she says, and just like that, Fia’s on high alert.

‘What?’

Kavita waits a beat. ‘You’re enjoying this.’

‘Enjoying what?’ Fia frowns.

Her roommate nods over at Benjamin. ‘Him,’ she says, and she doesn’t seem one bit dissuaded by the surprise that shows up on Fia’s face. ‘Yeah. Maybe you weren’t at first, but you are now.’

‘What?!’ Fia exclaims, as soon as she can get the word out. ‘Of course I’m not. I’m counting down the days until he’s gone. This whole thing has been an untold nightmare.’

Kavita looks amused, incredulous. ‘Oh, girl. That’s definitely not true. You’ve told us about it so much.’

‘So much,’ Annie murmurs, almost soothingly, and something about it makes all three of them laugh. They laugh their heads off, at themselves, at the ridiculousness of this whole situation.

‘He’s very good-looking,’ Annie manages eventually, giddiness subsiding. ‘Can I just say that? He’s very good-looking.’

Fia chooses not to respond to that one. ‘I can’t believe you two! Talk about an ambush!’ she says instead.

‘We couldn’t resist. We actually haven’t even eaten,’ Annie replies. ‘We really did just swing by to scope Benjamin out on our way to dinner. You wanna come with?’

It’s a turn of phrase that no matter how much she loves the speaker, always grates on Fia a tiny bit.

‘Oh, we ordered some food when we arrived,’ she says. ‘Sliders and wings and whatever. I don’t think I could eat another thing.’

‘Cool. So, you’re gonna … stay here, then,’ Kavita concludes, as though there is something extremely meaningful about this decision.

Fia ignores the smile twitching on her roommate’s lips, strives to keep her tone extra casual in response. ‘Um, yeah. Y’know. I’ll probably just … stay for one more and then head home.’

And she doesn’t look at Benjamin when she says it. Of course she doesn’t. The not looking at him, though – the very deliberately, definitely, wouldn’t even dream of looking at him … part of Fia can’t help but suspect that might be an even worse sign.