A Fire So Deep

A Fire So Deep

A. Jameson

Published by A. Jameson at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 A. Jameson

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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To B, with love,

because I couldn’t do anything without you.

PROLOGUE

We all have defining moments. Some of them we realize in the instant and others we don't understand until years later.

For some, it's graduation, the birth of a child, the start of a new job.

For me, it wasn’t a joyful occasion.

My eyes scanned the horizon as I stood watching in a combination of wonder and dread. I couldn't decide if I was truly awake yet or not.

Was the sky on fire or was it just the dawn?

How could such a perfect night be followed by such a terrible morning?

As the charcoal plume billowed into the orange expanse, I realized that everything I worked for over the last two years had literally gone up in smoke.

CHAPTER ONE: LONE STAR

Ryker Hayes

Another day, another dollar.

Lost.

I scratched my two-day beard and watched as the sun broke the horizon in the window. My body was sore from baling hay the day before. I knew I had almost another week of it ahead and the heat wasn’t letting up any time soon.

I sighed as I rolled over to glance at the clock. It was just after 5:30. My body was still on Eastern Time; even though I had been back for over a year. I reluctantly rolled out of bed and ran my hands through my hair. It was long and shaggy as I didn't really see the need to keep it up like I had back East.

Every day on Mea Stella Ranch seemed like one step closer to a devastating end. I'd left my lucrative job in New York City the past April when my father called with the news of my mother's illness. I'd taken a couple weeks, packed up my apartment, said my necessary see you later's and headed home.

To Texas.

Little did I know it wasn't see you later; it was good-bye. But it wasn't just good-bye to the job and the life I had built for myself far away from the only home I had ever known—the home I didn't want to go back to.

As I wandered into the kitchen and brewed a fresh pot of coffee, I couldn't help but reflect on that time a year ago. I thought I was coming back to simply help my father keep things afloat for a few months while my mother recovered.

But there was no recovery. It was stage four breast cancer and she was gone before the Fourth of July.

If I had only known it wasn't see you later; it was good-bye.

Maybe I wouldn't have been as resentful toward my father if he had told me sooner. Or maybe I wouldn't hate the fact that I had to return to the utter mess my father had made of the ranch.

Grandpa Hayes left my father the over three thousand acres of grazing and wheat land when he passed. It wasn't big, it wasn't small, it was somewhere right in the middle and my father had done well with it. He raised cattle and harvested wheat and had a steady flow of ranch hands. He just had to comply with the one condition placed in the will.

Never drill for oil—ever.

Grandpa lived through the boom town and gusher era that swept through North and Central Texas in the early 1900s. He bought his land in 1935 and settled in to ranch—the only thing he wanted to do since he was a boy. But then the oil strikes began to sprout up around him, bringing with it riff-raff, alcohol and gambling. It swept through like a plague of locusts. As soon as the oil mongers sucked a well dry, they moved on, leaving unemployment and devastation in their path back to Houston.

He didn't think there was any oil on his land and he didn't want to ruin it for the sake of chasing a pot of liquid gold at the end of an illusionary rainbow. Grandpa Hayes couldn't stand the thought of Mea Stella becoming a waste land. It was, after all, named after my Grandma Stella—the star of his eye—and it was his entire life’s work.

Needless to say, he and my father didn't see eye to eye, and Richard Sr. was more than resentful about the fact that he had to keep the land in ranching form. He always ran it well enough, but he made it very clear to me that he wanted more for me than to be a rancher in Texas.

But I never thought there was anything wrong with ranching when I was growing up.

I loved the ranch, the early morning dawn, the smell of fresh cut hay, and to take an afternoon nap under one of the bur oaks lining the property by the main house, or bed down on the side of the north hill in the grazing land to do some star gazing.

But that was before my senior year of high school. It was before my father made it so apparent to me that he didn't need me, the ranch didn't need me and I didn't need it.

Thus at the age of eighteen I was all too willing to leave my small town and the only family I knew, even though I was a king in Cisco, Texas. As a product of the Texas high school football leagues, I was a renowned quarterback who had offers from schools all over the country. I had any girl I wanted, and every teacher and coach wrapped around my little finger. I was a god. But on some level I knew I needed more than just football and ranching for the rest of my life. So I accepted his challenge. Yet I made it more difficult for myself.

I chose the Ivy League.

When I arrived in Connecticut I knew I wasn't in Kansas, or in my case Texas, anymore. There were dozens, hundreds of other Gods just like me. My first year out East was beyond difficult. But I couldn't quit, I couldn't let my father see that I couldn't hack it.

Especially after everything happened with Ellie.

Instead, I struck out for my own liquid gold, or in my case, paper gold, as an investment banker in New York City. Yes, I, Richard Kyle Hayes Jr., Ryker for short, was going to prove to him that I was a success.

Standing in my childhood kitchen, wearing faded jeans, a gray t-shirt and coffee in hand, I knew I was a long way from there as well.

To be honest I wasn't really sure where I fit in anymore.

But I was at Mea Stella.

I dumped the end of the coffee and finished off my breakfast before slipping on my hat. My new suit wasn't Armani or Gucci. It was Levi Strauss and Hanes, topped off with a pair of Justin's and a Stetson.

The early morning sun was already hot and the humidity was thick like a blanket. I walked to the stalls to saddle up my horse, Rona, for my daily ride around the property. Our ranch manager, and my best friend, Harrison Dahl was already waiting for me, large dip in his cheek, and bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever.

Asshole.

That shit'll kill you, Dahl. When are you going to listen to Meredith and stop with the chew?

When you start talkin' like a true Texan again. He drawled and winked at me.

I shook my head as I walked into the stalls to check the horses. I pulled Rona from her stall and slipped her a carrot I brought from the house. Harrison was my best friend from high school and married to my cousin, Meredith. He was also the best ranch manager a guy could find. He practically lived with us throughout high school because his father worked on an off-shore oil rig and was gone a lot. He was the safety on our state championship team and my partner in crime for more years than I could remember.

It only seemed natural that he married Meredith. The four of us grew up together and then one day Harrison and Meredith were just…more. It was seamless really.

Unfortunately I never had that kind of luck. I had my fair share of girlfriends and hook-ups over the years. But I never found that one person. It wasn't that I didn't want it. I just didn't think about it. And right then I didn't have time for it. I was too damn busy saving the ranch.

Maybe.

Or maybe I would just go back to New York with my now perfect speech intact.

Let's just say, I learned the hard way my first year at college that a southern boy in Connecticut wasn't exactly looked upon with favor.

Just like an eastern boy in Texas wasn't either, so apparently I was screwed either way.

I jumped on Rona and nodded to Harrison as we headed out to make our rounds. We went the same way every day, up the west side of the ranch, along the property line we shared with Earl Barrett, through the north pasture and then back to the house, skipping the wheat fields in the east. I couldn't help but eye Barrett’s property every day. He owned over 10,000 acres and was constantly looking to expand.

Everyone knew he was really just looking for oil.

He’d wanted Mea Stella for years. Once my mother died, it felt like the vultures were literally circling the wagon.

I knew the talk in town. I didn't spend much time at the local co-op or the coffee shops. In fact, I was in and out as quickly as possible most days. I was usually trying to fend off the older ladies who wanted to see how I was doing, or set me up with their daughters, or fend off the actual daughters. But the one thing they often shared were their own thoughts on Barrett and how I should stay away from him.

Like it wasn't already obvious, the man was as fake as a three dollar bill.

Harrison and I quietly made our pass up the west side, ensuring there were no breaks in the fencing, no issues with any of the cattle and nothing else to raise our suspicions.

Although people often mistook Harrison's joking nature as a sign of low intelligence, he was actually quite smart and quite the strategist. Shortly after I arrived back in Texas, Harrison sat me down and told me what he knew. Barrett had speculator after speculator to his property over the years searching for oil. Harrison knew Barrett wanted to buy our land and he suspected he would make an offer in tasteless fashion.

Which he did: only a week after my mother's funeral.

It was Harrison's idea that we take our morning rides. It was also Harrison's idea that we auction off several of our horses, old equipment or equipment that we rarely used. He suggested revamping the two old hired-hands houses and renting them out to make some income, along with numerous other changes.

But it didn't matter. We were still in the red and I didn't see it changing any time soon.

I knew I couldn't wait much longer before I would need some help. Either we had to figure out a way to overhaul everything, or we were going to have to sell. It was looking like I might have to cash in on a favor, and soon.

Harrison and I came over the hill and brought the horses up next to the stalls. I hopped off Rona just in time to hear the screen door slam shut.

The sun shone in my eyes, but I didn't have to squint to see. I knew what was there.

Rich Sr. stumbled out of the house and leaned against the porch.

I didn't have to be near him to know that his eyes were glassy, his clothes were rumpled and he smelled like Marty's Bar—cheap vodka and Parliaments.

I clenched my jaw and checked Rona's hooves before handing her off to Harrison. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. He knew as well as I did why the ranch went south in the last fifteen years.

It was standing on the porch.

But of course every time Rich Sr. went to the bank to mortgage something else on the ranch, Harrison couldn't stop him. Hare could only get creative with ways to save money and that only went so far.

You think he's headin' to town? Harrison said as he caught me staring at Rich staggering toward his truck.

Maybe we'll get lucky and the sheriff will throw his ass in the tank again. I muttered in annoyance.

Ha. Old man Crawford? Yeah, if he can see him. Hell, his son's no better. You hear how he pulled Meredith over last week?

I shook my head.

So he comes up behind her, got the cherries all a' flashin', and asks her to pull out her I.D. Meredith bein' Meredith—almost nine months pregnant mind you—bats her eyelashes at him and says in a real long drawl… he paused.

I nodded for him to continue. But knowing he had me hooked, Hare took out a new dip and lazily refilled it as I scowled at the foulness of it.

She said: 'Meow, what can I help you with officer?'

I couldn't help but crack a smile because I could only see where this was going.

Are you shittin' me? I asked.

"Nope. She pulled the reverse Super Troopers on him and kept slippin' it in every chance she could with a straight face. Lil' Crawford didn't know what to do with himself. Knowin’ Meredith she was drivin' 'bout twenty over the speed limit and he let her off with a warnin'."

Soon enough I was laughing so hard I didn't notice the dust spin up from old Rich's truck as it took off down the drive.

Leave it to Harrison to keep me from getting in one of those moods. It really was a shitty way to spend the day.

As the sun rose high, we corralled the hands and started in on the second day of baling. After a short lunch break and a long afternoon of sweating our asses off in the hot Texas sun, we split a case of beer on one of the flat racks.

By sundown I still hadn't seen any sign of Rich. I sat down at the desk in the parlor and heard the house settling around me as I opened my books. I glanced around noticing nothing had changed in fifteen years. Everything was exactly the same as it had been when I left—the same old wallpaper, same creaky hardwood floors and same dilapidated furniture.

For some reason it seemed a lot nicer when I was in high school. But now we didn't have enough money to keep the ranch afloat let alone renovate the house.

It was a stark contrast to my apartment in New York City.

I flipped through the financials, noting our sale of beef from the week before and the projections for the wheat crop mid-summer. The auction helped a bit, but it only took care of half of the second mortgage and didn't even make a dent in the amount of interest we were paying on the first.

With all the complex analysis I did as an investment banker, it just didn't matter. I always had capital to work with. Not to mention my projections weren't dependent on the weather or animals. My specialty was marketing and putting together deals.

Here, the capital was physical, and everything we gleaned from it had to pay off the outstanding debt. There was nothing left to try to invest and raise any additional capital.

I was at my wits end.

With a sigh of frustration I looked at the clock and noticed it was almost ten. It probably wasn't too late to call Chicago.

I dialed up the number and sat back in my chair with the books strewn across the desk.

Tom Brozek.

Brozek. It's Hayes. How's it going man?

Hayes! He all but shouted and I held the phone back from my ear. Long time bro, what's happening in the Outback?

I chuckled. I'm not in fucking Australia, Brozek, I'm in Texas.

Might as well be. He joked and I just shook my head. So what's got you up so late? Isn't it past your bedtime?

I laughed but, not really finding it in myself to keep joking around; I decided to get down to business.

Well, Bro, I'm in a bit of a jam. I explained to him the gist of the financial situation with the ranch. I was accustomed to marketing to investors, not the nitty gritty accounting and tax issues that I faced with the rance. Frankly, I was probably too close to the situation to look at it objectively anymore.

Wow Hayes, I don't know what to say. That really sucks. He let out a breath before starting in again. Unfortunately I can't come down right now. Lisa is due any day. But you know what; I think I have the perfect person for you. She runs a tight ship, and I do mean the tightest. She could pinch a penny out of a nutshell and no I will go undotted or T uncrossed. He chuckled to himself for a moment. Plus, I think this might be a good…err…challenge for her.

Fine with me Bro. I sighed. I don't know how I can pay you though.

Don't worry about it man.

Thanks Tom.

I'll be in touch.

With that, I ended the call and put my head in my hands on the desk. I heard the rumbling of a truck and I knew that the last thing I wanted to deal with just pulled up.

His boots were heavy as he trekked across the porch and into the front hallway. I heard him stop just outside the open door of the parlor.

I turned to look at his cold blue eyes and I could no longer see any semblance of the man I once knew. Without a word, he turned and stumbled up the stairs; slamming the door at the top and making the dust shake from the shelves.

From the looks of the books in front of me, we had the summer. That was it. With or without the help of whoever Tom sent, we only had a few short months before Mea Stella went under. Yet my father didn't even seem to care.

Mornin' sunshine!

I jumped and almost hit the back of my head on the refrigerator. I knew that voice all too well but she still shocked the hell out of me.

Damnit Meredith, way to sneak up on a guy. It's too fucking early for that shit. I rubbed the back of my head and swallowed down some juice.

Watch your mouth Ryker, small ears are present. And don't drink straight from the carton.

I blinked regretfully as I saw Meredith and Harrison's son, Jack, standing there.

Mornin' Uncle Ryker.

Uh hey there Jack. Sorry about the… I looked at Meredith for some help, and she just bit her tongue with a sour look on her face.

I mean, you shouldn't say stuff like that, stuff like sh…I mean. Oh shit. Meredith. I looked at her pleadingly and then I could see she was biting back a smile.

Little brat.

I think what Uncle Ryker is trying to say Jack, is those words are ungentlemanly and no man should say them. He apologizes profusely.

I sighed. Right.

What's profussly mean? Jack asked.

Profusely. It means a lot. I paused. Where's your sister? I asked, changing the subject.

She's with Grandma today. He shrugged.

I nodded as Meredith shoed Jack outside. He was seven and full of energy. He was probably off to chase after one of the stray dogs that somehow found a home on the ranch.

The kitchen settled again and I looked over to Meredith. She looked like she stuck a basketball under her sundress, but she didn't have a hair out of place.

So, where's Uncle Rich this morning? She asked as she started to do a few of the dishes in the sink.

Who knows. I rolled my eyes. You don't have to do that Meredith.

I don't mind. She shrugged and smiled.

Thanks for the help with the kid by the way. I said wryly.

She chuckled. Oh Ryker, it's not every day I can make you squirm a bit. Besides, how are you ever going to get any practice?

I snorted. "Practice for what? That's not happening any time soon."

You never know. She sing-songed.

Whatever Meredith. I'm going outside.

Ok, I'm off to an appointment and Mom will be back for Jack.

I nodded and went outside for our last day of baling. The heat had worsened a bit in the last few days and I was hoping to start early to avoid the worst of it.

It had been five days since I spoke with Tom. I knew the woman he was sending down was supposed to arrive today or tomorrow. I didn't know anything about her, but I trusted Tom. He was one of the first people I met when I went out East. We suffered through training camp during our first football season together, introductory classes and finals. He came from a working class family in Chicago and was just as eager as me to prove his abilities.

He had done well after college too. He and his girlfriend Lisa, now wife, moved back to Chicago where he joined a prestigious accounting firm. He quickly rose through the ranks and became a partner six years later. Lisa worked in Public Relations and they were about to have their first child.

The sun was already up on the horizon and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Harrison and I, along with Jack, quickly made our daily ride and then set to work getting the equipment ready for baling. I was hoping to be finished by noon.

The day was long and hot. I was covered in dirt and sweat and pulled my shirt off by the time we got to the last round of baling.

We filled the flat rack and made our way back toward the large barn to unload. Suddenly, I noticed a sleek black car pull up the drive.

I eyed it peculiarly as I tossed bales from the bed to one of our hands. I bent back down to grab the next bale when I heard some snickering.

Phee-ew. Would you look at that? One of the hands let out a low whistle.

That's a cool drink a' water right thar'. Another added.

I looked up to see a woman dressed in a sharp black fitted suit, large sunglasses and sky-high heels teetering across the gravel drive toward us. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and not a piece of clothing was out of place. I could see her full red lips from my perch on the flat rack and shook my head.

What was she thinking? She was visiting a ranch, not a board room. She definitely wasn't from Texas.

Harrison gave me a look of question and I just shrugged. I assumed this was the woman Brozek sent. She certainly looked the part of an accountant.

Sort of.

Though, I was expecting more of a cardigan and glasses-wearing type; the kind that looked like a librarian.

Not…her.

She stopped walking and tightly gripped her oversized Prada bag. Yeah, I knew the label; I had a few suits in my closet with the same—although I would never admit that in front of these yahoos.

I heard another low whistle, and apparently she did too. She stiffened and crossed her arms. The nervous look on her face instantly disappeared and morphed into a cold hard stare.

Excuse me. She said sternly. I'm looking for a Mr. Hayes.

Well now darlin', there's a few Mr. Hayes’ 'round these parts. So you might have to be more specific. Harrison drawled with a twinkle in his eye and I just chuckled under my breath.

Well, let me clarify then, I'm looking for Richard Hayes. Do you know him? She lifted her chin defiantly and I stood up straighter.

Nope, definitely not from the South.

Again before I could speak, Drew, one of the hands, laughed and beat me to it.

Again, you might have to be more specific honey. There's more than one of those too.

I could see all of the eyes of the hands on her and she locked her stance.

Maybe I should say something.

I'm Richard Hayes. I jumped down from the flat rack and slowly walked over to her. I wiped my hand on my jeans to extend it to her. But call me Ryker.

I could feel her eyes on me and I noticed her swallow, but she didn't extend her hand. Instead, she looked down at where I wiped it on my pants and then back to my hand.

I stared at her in disbelief.

Tom sent this hoity toity bitch? You have to be kidding me.

Finally, she raised her chin and offered her own hand with a cold greeting. Nyla Foster, Johnson & Baker Accounting Firm.

I shook her hand firmly and noticed a warm tingle radiate up my arm. She clasped mine quickly and forcefully before snapping her hand back.

What the hell is this woman's problem?

Ma'am. I drawled with my best smile and she stiffened again.

Ms. Foster is fine. She said snottily and I instantly straightened my back, smile morphing into a chuckle.

Well then.

"Sorry, Mrs. Foster." I emphasized again, just to piss her off.

I could see her face turn red behind her sunglasses and for some reason I wondered what her eyes looked like.

Because I could sure as hell feel them burning a hole through me at the moment.

"Just Ms."

"Sorry Miss Foster." I drew out again and bit back my smile.

She huffed. "Ms., as in adult, female and unmarried."

"What can I do for ya' Ms. Foster?" I stressed.

I was just fucking with her, but I didn't know why. I just couldn't help pressing her buttons a bit.

I'm here on behalf of Tom Brozek. I thought we should meet to discuss your matters.

I stiffened again, this time because I didn’t want to talk about the ranch in front of the men.

I felt Harrison saddle up beside me and I could feel the smugness rolling off of him.

Asshole.

"Well, Ms. Foster, I said lowly, I'd rather not discuss this right here. I'm rather busy at the moment."

That's fine Mr. Hayes. Perhaps we can speak somewhere else. But I wanted to introduce myself and let you know I am at your service. She mumbled something else under her breath, but I couldn't hear her.

Well now, I think I might just have to take advantage of your services. It was out of my mouth before I could think about it. I wanted to feel bad, but as her face grew even redder, I just couldn't help but laugh internally at making this cold woman fidget a bit. I wasn't usually an asshole, but this was the most fun I'd had in days—weeks.

Yes. Well. She harrumphed. I think you know this will be strictly professional. I have no intention of crossing any lines here Mr. Hayes.

"I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout, Ms. Foster." I drawled and she huffed again.

Ryker! I heard my name called then and turned to see my Aunt Caroline standing by her car giving me a stern look. I hadn’t even noticed her arrival.

Luckily it helped to relieve the thick tension that had settled in between us.

Or maybe it was just the stifling heat. It felt like a fucking blanket was wrapped around me at that moment.

I looked around and noticed that everyone was watching our little interaction and we were standing awfully close to one another.

I stepped back and felt the tension dissipate.

A little.

Ms. Foster set her chin and looked up at me. Perhaps we can meet this evening Mr. Hayes. I'm staying at the local motel.

I snorted, thinking of the dive she must be staying in. She could have stayed at the house with me, at least it was clean. Though why that thought crossed my mind I wasn’t sure.

I could see her shooting me daggers again as I knew I insulted her.

What time would be good for you? She said through grit teeth.

Well you see, Ms. Foster, this here is a ranch. We don't stop 'til the sun goes down. Which this time of year is 'round eight.

That's fine Mr. Hayes. Where would you like to meet?

Why don't you just swing back out here?

I would prefer in town somewhere.

I shook my head at her. Fine. Cisco Diner. We can have some apple pie. I smiled this time and I could almost see her rolling her eyes.

It was going to make for a long few months of working with this woman.

Fine. 8:00 at Cisco Diner. Good day Mr. Hayes.

Good day, Ms. Foster. I tipped my hat at her. She huffed again and spun around toward her car.

I watched as she walked away and sucked in a breath.

Tight ship my ass, Brozek.

Tight ass.

In more ways than one.

But then I had to shake my head of those things.

I turned to look at Caroline and she crossed her arms and gave me a disapproving glare.

Ms. Foster sped out of the driveway and I saw Caroline grab Jack and leave as well.

I walked back to the flat rack and gave the men a look to get back to work. They instantly scurried back to their places before the showdown, or whatever that was, happened.

I grabbed the hay bale at my feet and went to toss it when Harrison raised an eyebrow at me.

What? I challenged as he shook his head laughing.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and watched the black car kick up dust down the drive.

Harrison kept laughing as he followed my gaze.

"Nice to see you found your Texas again, Mr. Hayes." He drawled.

I rolled my eyes at him, thinking about what he said that morning. He gave me a shitty grin as he plopped another dip in his cheek.

Well then Dahl, you gonna stop chewin' that shit? I challenged him.

I just might, Hayes, I just might.

He walked away with that look on his face like he knew something, but I didn't know what.

I just knew one thing.

It was going to be a long summer with this Ms. Foster around.

CHAPTER TWO: TWO-STEP

Nyla Foster

I was pissed. That, that…insufferable, egotistical, chauvinistic, self-centered…redneck!

Who did he think he was? And Tom, I was going to kill Tom for sending me down to the backwards, Leave it to Beaver…Hicksville that I found myself in!

I was fuming mad as I high-tailed it away from Mea Stella. I was in the middle of BFE Texas and I couldn't wait to get out of there.

What the hell was Tom thinking sending me to there? What the hell was I thinking accepting the assignment?

As the dust kicked up behind the Mercedes I was driving, I quickly shed my designer suit jacket and fluffed at my silk shirt. It felt like it was a million degrees outside, that or I was transported to the sun.

My mind kept thinking over my interaction with Mr. Hayes.

Mr. Hayes, I taunted in my head.

It took everything I had in me not to slap the smug look off of his face and remain civil. Tom said he was smart, but obviously not smart enough to greet me properly. I was here for him after all.

I was a CPA for crying out loud, and a damn good one. I had clients who owned and worked for some of the wealthiest companies in the Midwest. I was demanded, and I was damn good at my job. I wasn't going to let that fucking…cowboy, intimidate me.

The gravel kicked up as I pulled onto the highway back to the hotel.

Or should I have said motel. I wanted to slap Mr. Hayes when he laughed about that as well, because I knew he was right.

As I sped back to town I thought back on my conversation with Tom. He'd walked into my office on the previous Wednesday morning, saying he needed a favor.

A very big favor.

Big my ass. It couldn’t be bigger if I had to deal with him.

Yeah, him and his sparkling blue eyes, washboard abs with the sweat dripping down his…

Ugh. I knew that was half my problem—ok most of my problem. When I spoke to him, I was doing anything I could not to focus on his lean body and his sun-kissed skin. So instead of being poised and professional, I came off as a raging bitch by trying to overcompensate.

What else is new?

I learned the hard way that as a smart, attractive, professional woman, I had a very hard time making people take me seriously—men in particular. My business still had a slew of the good ole boys that were chauvinist pigs. I found out over time that it was better to take the bitch role—become cold and uncaring—rather than get walked all over as the nice girl. Thus becoming a bitch was simply an unfortunate side effect.

I was so close to becoming a partner at Johnson & Baker. I had worked there for nine years, and each time the news came down that they had appointed a new partner; I thought this is it. But three years later it wasn't. I billed more time, obtained more clients and mentored more new associates, yet nothing seemed to matter. I still wasn't offered a partnership and it was driving me mad.

When Tom approached me I thought this might be my shot. He thought it might look good