“Creepy,” I joked.

Lincoln gave a short smile before it faded and his brow furrowed. “I never tell what I see. I only want to keep you safe.”

“Come on, Lincoln. What’s good on TV tonight?” I asked.

Lincoln pointed to the cafeteria screen, where Nancy Duval sat covering her eyes, her shoulders shaking, seemingly crying, though the image was too fuzzy to know for certain, as she spooned a pint of what appeared to be ice cream into her mouth in a banquette surrounded by dozens of completely empty tables.

“Yikes!” I leaned in closer to see the image more clearly. “I hope you’re well compensated, or we’re just begging you to start blackmailing us!”

“I am,” he replied, his tone quite serious.

“Skippy!” Matt yelled, tapping his watch dramatically. “Our Quality is here!”

I had no idea what Matt was talking about, but I gave Lincoln a short two-finger salute. “Thanks for the umbrellas. We’re outta here!”

As we approached the Escalade waiting for us, I noticed a small white printed sign reading “Quality Car Service” displayed in the passenger window. The three of us didn’t say a word the entire way to the restaurant, as we composed and received a flurry of emails about our deal. “Just got an email from Didier,” Jordan announced as we pulled up to the restaurant. “One of his analysts is stuck in the office. Should we invite another Klasko associate to fill the seat? Derrick?”

I hadn’t known Derrick was doing M&A, since he hadn’t mentioned it, nor had I seen his name on Matt’s whiteboard, but I would have been thrilled to have him to insulate me from any awkward silences with the client, even if it meant I wasn’t the only first-year invited.

“I just emailed him,” Matt announced as he opened the car door. “He’ll be here in a few.”

I sighed in relief and slid out of the car.

We greeted KJ and Taylor, the younger members of the National Bank team, just inside the door of the steakhouse. They were both impeccably dressed in navy suits, distinguished only by the slight pinstripe in Taylor’s and KJ’s choice of a pink tie. Didier, their boss, was notably absent.

KJ and Taylor extended their arms to fist-bump Matt and Jordan, and I noticed the flash of the silver cuff links fastening their French cuffed shirts. They looked slightly confused as to whether they should fist-bump me as well. Had these guys ever been to a work dinner with a woman before? I forced a wide smile, smoothed my silk button-down blouse into my skirt, and confidently extended my hand. “Alex Vogel.”

KJ took my hand first, saying nothing but holding it just a bit too long.

“So nice to put a face to your voice!” Taylor offered as I shook his.

“I feel like I know you guys already from all the emails!” I laughed. I saw Matt relax almost imperceptibly, knowing I would charm the clients.

“I didn’t think you’d look like this,” KJ said, looking me up and down. My cheeks warmed immediately, and I momentarily chalked it up to embarrassment. But it was actually annoyance that settled nicely into the base of my skull.

“Oh? What did you think I’d look like?”

He was saved by Matt, slapping him on the back and asking where Didier was. Jordan gave me a slight shake of his head, telling me to let the comment go, and I obeyed.

“Stuck on a call. He said we should start without him,” said KJ.

“Good, because I’m starving!” I laughed and touched KJ’s arm, diffusing whatever tension lingered in the sterile air.

I followed the group to the table, taking time to marvel at the steaming white pasta blanketed in shavings of black truffle and the sea scallops perfectly seared to a golden crust on other tables. I was last to the large circular table and took the seat Matt gestured to between him and KJ, who was already mid-rant.

“. . . and I could barely fucking understand what she was saying half the time. And her acne . . .” He gave a dramatic shudder of disgust, then continued to elaborate on the physical appearance of the private equity analyst they’d worked with on their last deal. He turned to me, and I laughed too loudly, to assure him there was no need to censor himself. I shoved the feeling that I was somehow betraying my own sex out of my mind. It was all too easily replaced by the sweetness of inclusion.

Matt turned to me. “I got a couple of bottles of red for the table. But I got you a glass of sauvignon blanc, figuring you’ll have fish.”

“Wow, I didn’t know we’d be time-traveling tonight!”

He cocked his head to one side, looking puzzled.

“Straight back to the fifties! Do I get to order my own food, or no?”

“Funny girl,” he said. “What will you eat?”

“Sea bass,” I said, looking over the menu.

We sensed a figure standing over us and looked up to see Derrick, who sported a red-and-blue-striped bow tie and a boyish grin.

Matt stood to shake his hand. “Hey! Welcome! Glad you could make it!”

Derrick made a round of the table, greeting everybody, and I saw how his diplomatic upbringing had formed him. He was confident and controlled—polished in a way that put people at ease. When he came to the two empty seats, he took the one closest to Taylor.

“Are you kidding me?” Taylor’s voice was raised in Jordan’s direction. “This World Series was purchased—”

“Are YOU kidding ME? The Yankees have the best team money can buy, and they still didn’t make the series. You can’t buy a good team. It helps, but there’s more to it.” Jordan leaned backward, folding his arms over his chest to indicate that he had had the last word. KJ leaned forward, picking his opportunity to display his baseball knowledge, and I just observed this bizarre battle of manliness.

I panned over to Derrick, who I could tell was attempting to consume himself with the cocktail list until the conversation moved to a new topic. He looked up and locked eyes with mine, then straightened his spine.

“What are we drinking, boys?” he asked the table.

Matt barely looked up from the menu. “I ordered wine for the table, but get whatever you like.”

As Derrick, KJ, and Taylor eagerly announced their cocktail orders to the waiter, I watched Derrick intently. It had only been a week since we’d been together in Kevin’s office giving dating advice, but those days had done him no favors. His face looked puffy, from alcohol consumption, I guessed, and his eyes had the telltale bloodshot look that comes with lack of sleep.

The waiter presented the bottle Matt had ordered to the table, then poured him a taste. I took note as he stuck his nose in the glass and inhaled and then swished the wine around in his mouth after a sip. He gave a short, powerful nod to the waiter before turning his attention back to the group.

“Is this for Didier?” Derrick asked, gesturing to the empty seat next to him, and Matt nodded. “Looks like I get the ear of the boss man tonight.” Derrick clucked.

I felt Matt tense slightly next to me, confirming what I had guessed about my role at dinner. A junior associate in BigLaw was expected to be a positive presence, but not the center of attention. To drink but not be drunk. To have a good sense of humor but not be funny. Being able to be the life of the party came with status—and at the partner level. Apparently, Derrick hadn’t gotten the memo.

“Hope nobody minds if I kick the night off with a few shots too,” he said to the table. I caught Jordan and Matt making brief eye contact, looking slightly annoyed.

“A sauvignon blanc for the lady.” The waiter placed the wine in front of me and made his way around the table with the other drinks.

“And six shots of Patrón!” Derrick called to the waiter from across the table, his voice already a little too loud. I watched him intently, wondering if he was already a couple drinks deep. The waiter looked to Matt, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head to indicate that Derrick’s order was to be ignored, which the waiter acknowledged with only the slightest squint of his eyes as he continued to pour.

“Cheers,” Matt said, raising his glass, “to our favorite clients.” We all raised ours, but as soon as we set them down, Jordan came up behind Matt and spoke in a hushed tone into his ear to alert him to some email he’d received. I looked to KJ and Taylor to see if they were noticing work being done at the table, but they were both staring straight down into their laps, having seized the opportunity to check their own phones.

We all turned to Derrick as he pounded his fist on the table after a long sip of his cocktail, an unnecessarily histrionic display of masculinity.