Free J'adore New York by Isabelle Lafleche

silence.
    “Well…our candidate has been reprimanded for something pretty minor: money laundering. We were hoping you could ask the securities regulator to overlook it, madame. You smell what I’m cookin’?”
    Seriously? Is this guy for real? I stare out the window for a brief moment and regain my composure. If I asked this question to any of the regulatory staff at the securities commission, they would laugh me off the phone. How can someone like Mel be managing hundreds of millions of dollars of people’s money?
    “No, Mel. There’s absolutely nothing I can do.”
    “Oh come on, counselaaar, we’re not going to let something minor like that get in the way of hiring a good candidate, are we?”
    “Mel, we’re talking about a serious financial crime here. The regulator will never go for it. The answer is no.” I repeat firmly, hoping to resolve the matter definitively.
    After I stick to my guns, Mel agrees to find a new candidate and I go back to defending Dior’s interests.

Chapter 8
    “I know what you’re doing, dah-ling, and it’s not bill-able .”
    Busted. I know that it seems contrary to the straight-line lawyer side of me, but I love to occasionally check my horoscope. Despite the naysayers, some astrological forecasts are startlingly accurate. A close friend in Paris gave me one for my birthday and it had predicted every disappointing relationship and misstep in my career, including the time I fell flat on my face during a client presentation as I attempted to explain complex banking regulations in four-inch heels. Friends sigh with disbelief when I tell them that their lost luggage or misplaced car keys are caused by Mercury retrograde or that their Chinese sign incompatibility is the real reason why they never hear back from a date, but deep down I know astrology holds most of the answers.
    “I’m just taking a few seconds to read my horoscope. What’s the big deal?”
    “God, you sound like my mother. She had my astrological chart prepared when I was born but probably fainted when she read that her eldest son was going to be gay.”
    “Did you keep a copy?”
    “No, I smoked it.”
    “Come on, Rikash, stop making fun. I actually believe in this.”
    “Okay, what’s my sign?”
    “You’re a Taurus monkey.”
    “That makes sense. It’s monkey business all the way.”
    “And monkeys are spunky and charming.”
    “Well, thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment. Surprisingly, I haven’t received any yet today so that will do just fine. What about you, what’s your sign?”
    “A Virgo dog. You know, the dedicated perfectionist type.”
    “Yes, but remember that dogs are insecure and usually have their noses up someone else’s rear end.”
    “Thanks for the reminder. I wonder what Bonnie’s sign is. Probably a dragon or a snake.”
    “No, I’d say she’s a rabbit.” He gives me a dirty wink.
    After a final sip of my espresso, I gather the courage to ask Scott to be my lease guarantor.
    As I make my way toward his office, I overhear him speaking with Antoine.
    “How’s Catherine doing?”
    “Not bad, so far,” Antoine replies. “Not sure her billing is up to par, though.”
    Not bad so far? Her billing not up to par? Merde! Is this what I get for spending every waking minute of last week in my office tied to my desk eating day-old sandwiches, writing dry cleaning memos for Bonnie the Vampire Slayer, putting up with ridiculous come-ons from gross-me-out clients, and still billing no less than fifty hours in my first week in New York?
    I try to calm down, but anger bubbles in my brain. How can Antoine stab me in the back after being so friendly? I guess it’s every lawyer for herself in this crazy jungle. I tiptoe closer to Scott’s office and am about to aggressively chime in to defend my honour when I hear Antoine’s voice softening.
    “Anyway, Mel seems to really like her and she did a fantastic job on some plain-English disclosure I gave her. And the fact that she