Waiting for Armando (Kate Lawrence Mysteries) Read Free Page A

firm, there is no head honcho in whose aura to bask. The managing partnership is up for grabs every couple of years and moves from partner to partner. Attorneys are tolerated by their colleagues in direct proportion to their billable hours, and the number one question on their lips is, how much new business have you brought in lately?
    Esteem? The cramped, ugly workspaces were only my first clue to the low esteem in which the support staff was held at BGB. Every day in every way, it was made clear to me that law firm personnel fall into two categories:   Lawyers and Others. Anyone not in possession of a J.D. and a lucrative client roster was an Other , from the HR manager to the office messengers, and of the Others, secretaries were the nameless, faceless krill at the end of the food chain.
    What keeps these women here? I continually asked myself. Charlene and many of the others seemed to be bright, educated and exceptionally able. From what I could see, they kept the firm running smoothly in spite of the interference of the self-important blowhards to whom they reported. Surely, they could do better elsewhere.
    Ah, well, I thought resignedly, returning my notepad to my bag. It’s only for a while, and the money is good. I hadn’t realized that it was hazardous duty pay when I accepted the offer, but now that I knew the score, I just had to stick it out long enough to find another job. I dropped my empty cup into a trash barrel and headed back up Trumbull, walking slowly in the midday sauna. I thought fondly of my air conditioned condo and the juicy porterhouse in my refrigerator that awaited grilling. I drifted into a daydream that featured a long, cool bubble bath and a large steak sizzling over hot coals.
    Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only fat that would be in the fire in the very near future.

 
 
 
 
    Two

 
    Friday finally arrived, and I spent the evening wondering how to tell my friends and family that I had made a big mistake. Well, no harm done. I would just have to eat some crow and admit that they had been right. I would call the HR manager first thing Monday morning and explain that I was simply not cut out to be a secretary, even temporarily. Since I had been at the firm for only one week, she would get over it. Besides, she had to be used to hiring new secretaries for Bellanfonte , since Strutter had confided that he burned out an assistant every year or two, no matter how much the firm paid her.
    Armando and I met for dinner at Costa del Sol, one of our favorite restaurants in Hartford’s South End. I was happy to clear thoughts of BGB from my head with talk of his week at TeleCom . The company had recently won an important contract with the supplier of services to A&E Television’s Live on Request series. A week hence, TeleCom’s advance team would fly to Bogota to begin work on an upcoming concert featuring South American musicians. It was a major coup, and news of it might well turn TeleCom’s fortunes around.
    “It is too bad that you are not there to make the press announcements, mija ,” Armando reflected.
    I may have made a mistake about the secretary thing, but I was still confident about my decision to leave TeleCom . “Life is too short to spend doing work you detest,” I said firmly, intending to launch into an explanation of my intention to run, not walk, to BGB’s nearest exit.
    “Yes, yes,” he interrupted, having heard this philosophy from me before. “I just miss having lunch together or stopping by your office to steal a kiss,” he grinned, capturing my hand in his.
    “ Mmm , well, I miss that, too,” I agreed, “but perhaps absence really does make the heart grow fonder. It seems to be working so far.” Those were words I would live to regret, but at the time, I was distracted by the growing heat between us that prompted a mutual decision to skip dessert. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to tell him I was leaving BGB, I decided.
    On Saturday I awoke well