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playing minesweeper on the computer in his tiny office, leering at the lesser support staff and berating the bicycle messengers for tracking in mud.
    I shrugged his sweaty hand from my shoulder and waited, as patiently as possible, to hear what he had to say.
    “I heard you had a wild weekend.”
    His smile was wide and I watched as the hands in his pockets pushed out and he jiggled his manly parts at me in an obscene (sensual, in his mind) way.
    Guy's cologne was so strong I had to breathe slowly through my mouth to keep from gagging on it. He was a handsome man, if you liked the player type who referred to all women as bitches and liked to 'hang with his posse' on the weekends. I didn't like him at all.
    “I don't know what you mean, Mr. Small.” He had asked me to call him Guy on several occasions, but I was on to his game after hearing about the way he had cornered one of the receptionists in the break room on the forty second floor. Mr. Small is what I called him and if the talk around the office was true, he was small in more than just name.
    I turned my back on him and neatened a stack of papers on my desk, shuffled a few files around, basically, I tried to look busy, too busy to talk to him. I was hoping he would take the hint that I, unlike him, had a real job to do and needed to get back to it.
    “You went on a blind date,” he said with a low laugh and a suggestive wink.
    Even his laugh grated on my nerves. Most days I could handle Guy. As long as you knew where you stood with him, never gave him any encouragement and treated him like the nasty pervert he was, he was manageable.
    I looked back with a sigh, he was still standing behind me. He wore cowboy boots with ridiculously high heels, a diamond the size of a blueberry on his pinky finger and a smug smile.
    “Yes, I did, it was lovely.” Actually, as usual, it had been a total disaster. Unlike all the other dates, this one hadn't been entirely my fault.
    Allen was a nice guy. He was handsome, had a steady job, lived in his own apartment and didn't spend the evening talking about his evil ex-girlfriend or his fitness regimen.
    We had a lot in common; a love of reading, swimming and French food. There was just one fly in the ointment; he was gay. I had begun to suspect when he told me about the six times he watched Steel Magnolias. Allen was a huge fan of Sally Fields, but the way he perked up at WARLOCK’S BRIDE JENNIFER RINEHART 10

    the sight of our handsome food server, Mario, really clinched it for me.
    I spent the rest of the evening listening to increasingly flirtatious banter between Allen and Mario, an aspiring artist who had just moved to Portland from Chicago with a boyfriend who ditched him for a truck driver. All in all, it was not my most successful evening, but it was nice to see Allen and Mario hookup.
    When I had a minute alone with Leah I would give her hell for trying to match me up with her 'super nice' cousin.
    “Where did you hear that?” I asked with a narrow eyed look. My morning was starting to look a little less rosy.
    In addition to the whoring around and computer games, Guy was a gossip. He loved to hear it and liked to spread it even more.
    “A little birdy told me. You look a little tired today, worn out, know what I mean? I guess your date went into overtime.” He made the ridiculous sound of a game buzzer and laughed at his own joke.
    I was trying to think of a clever comeback that didn't include the words, asshole and piss off, when Lillian's voice called out from her office, “Anna, could you come here for a minute?”
    I gave him a thin smile and skirted around him on my way to Lillian's office. Her wall of accomplishments, every attorney had one, was covered in pictures of herself interspersed with her degrees and Oregon State Bar License. I glanced at the pictures of Lillian with the mayor, Lillian on a yacht with her fiancé, Martin. Lillian posing next to her red Porsche, Lillian on top of Mount St. Helen's. In