Free Girl Most Likely To by Poonam Sharma

Anyone, really. There was no reason to be that pumped up about something like Equity Research.
    “You have nothing to worry about, Peter. I would never dream of neglecting my responsibility to the team. I’ll tell you what—if and when someone does make an honest woman out of me, I promise to still fax a retort over to you from my Mommy-And-Me classes every morning. Somebody’s got to temper your hideous and unnecessary optimism with some good-old-fashioned cynicism. Otherwise you’ll blind us all. Really, Peter, that kind of Little-House-On-The-Prairie crap will get one of our interns mugged.”
    “Ouch! Someone’s claws are out today! I like that, I like that,” he laughed like a mental patient at his own jokes. “Maybe you can bring some of that enthusiasm to the all-nighter we’re gonna have to pull to finish up the research on that Luxor deal. You know we have to make our recommendation by tomorrow morning. Now, let’s get young Wade here up to speed.”
     
    The call came from inside the house. As usual, they used separate phones. As usual, they assumed I had an hour to waste in the middle of the day. And as usual, my parents caught me wide open and defenseless at my desk when they decided to attack. Only this time, Peter, Wade and Denny were seated in my office, so they, too, got caught in the crossfire.
    Peter reclined in his seat across from my desk while Denny took notes beside him. Wade sat on the edge of his seat below my framed SUCCESS poster of a rock-climber reaching the peak of a mountain. That poster, like the two of them, came with the office, along with its mahogany desk, glass door, and many walls of gray.
    “This week, we’ve been poring over the past five years’ worth of financials from a software manufacturer in Taiwan,” Peter explained to Wade, through a mouthful of chicken Caesar salad. “We’re finally making an investment recommendation to Alan and Steve tomorrow morning. However, we thought it might be helpful for you to understand how the research fits into the larger picture.”
    Denny nodded enthusiastically for the coach, biting off a quarter of his sandwich and chasing it with some French fries from my plate. What gave him the impression that the fries were communal? Maybe a football field had sprouted beyond my office door and I had missed the e-mail? Since he had joined us a year earlier, Denny had become like a little brother to the team; he was somebody we could mock openly and use for target practice. I was an associate and he was an analyst, which meant that I outranked him by one level, four years and miles’ worth of respect within the firm. But his good humor in spite of the constant reminders of his low ranking on the corporate totem pole had forced us to develop a soft spot for him. Wade was even brighter-eyed and bushier-tailed than Denny. He had joined us as an intern the month before, and his brown-nosing knew no bounds. Wade was an intensely red-headed and predictably rosy-eyed second-year economics major at Columbia. Though he got the internship through his father’s connection to a partner at our firm, Wade actually seemed intent on proving that he deserved it.
    Brrrrring!
    I saw my parents’ home number on my caller ID, and against my better judgment I decided to answer the phone.
    Dad: Hi, beti! Hold on while your mom picks up on the other line…Are you there?
    Mom: Hello? Yes, I am. Hello, sweetheart.
    Me: (Motioning to Peter to continue.) Hi. Listen, is it important? Because I’m kind of in the middle of something.
    “So here’s the deal,” Peter continued, while Denny sucked on a soda and Wade took notes, “Alan and Steve have been looking at a new investment. A company called Luxor, which makes software designed to help small-business owners protect their networks from Internet-based security breaches.”
    Mom: No problem, no problem. This will only take a minute. So, did you hear that Meena and Avinash’s daughter Parul is pregnant?
    Me: