“Almost done, Skip. We just need to choose which summer associates we want to try to recruit,” Matt said.

I stared at the board. “I was on that list when you did it for associates.”

“We’ve never had a girl here for the process!” Matt laughed, as though I should be flattered. “Feel free to pick a guy you want to work with, Skip.”

“Why the fuck would I want to pick a guy to work with based on his picture?” I could hear my voice going into a shrill register, and touched my cheeks to confirm I was burning up.

The two of them stared at me, utterly dumbfounded.

“I didn’t realize . . .” Matt trailed off and thought for a moment. “You know, female partners do the same thing.” I gave him a skeptical look. “Or they would, if there were more of them. Power corrupts.”

“I’m pretty sure power just gives you license to be whoever you really are,” I snapped.

“Erase it,” Matt said to Jordan, to my surprise, and gave me a small wink that he might have meant as a half-assed apology. “When you’re right, you’re right.”

I nodded at him gratefully, even though I was pretty certain they’d have the list back up as soon as I left the room.

“Didier will be there with us. He wants us to make the plans for Thursday night in Miami,” Matt said, seeming eager to move on.

I forced calm into my voice. “I can handle that.”

They exchanged skeptical looks.

“What?” I asked defensively. “I know Miami.” They looked at each other again. “Ohh. I get it. You guys want to go to a strip club.”

“You would never come to a strip club with us, would you?” Matt asked, looking nervous. “Even at Didier’s request?”

Why does he even care whether I would go? This didn’t concern me. First-years were never invited to Miami. We did the slides, and that’s it. But still, I had to ask, “Am I invited to the strip club?”

Matt looked at Jordan, who nodded at me.

“You’re invited to the whole conference,” Matt said, and grinned. “We registered you. You deserve to be there with us. And Didier likes you. He never likes anybody.”

A smile spread rapidly across my face, my cheeks pushing their way up into my eyes. All my banter with Didier had paid off, even if I’d felt slightly icky. And more importantly, it dawned on me, the invitation to Miami almost certainly meant I had secured a space in M&A.

“Thank you! Thank you so much. I’ll be there! I’ll even be at the strip club, if you want me to be!” I heard my own words and paused. “But seriously, can I skip that part?”

They burst out laughing. “Yes,” Matt assured me.

“We don’t even want to go, Skip! It’s all Didier,” Jordan insisted.

“No need to lie to me. I’m not your wife.” I winked.

Matt clapped his hands together. “My admin is just grabbing Didier now. We can discuss more when he gets here.”

“He’s in the office?” I asked Matt just as Didier burst in with a thunderous thanks to Matt’s admin who had brought him down from reception on the forty-fifth floor. He gracelessly slammed the door behind him and collapsed into the spare chair. Matt and Jordan fawned over him, chatting about the week of debauchery lying ahead, but then I saw Jordan check his phone and slump in his seat.

“My wife is dying to co—” he muttered.

“No wives,” Matt interrupted. Jordan nodded without looking up, and Matt looked at me. “Or boyfriends. My wife tries to come every year. It’s just the four of us.”

“You’re in, Skippy?” Didier beamed at me.

“I’m in,” I confirmed, allowing myself a moment to relish having earned a spot, wanting to share the news. Carmen was the one person who would understand just how big a deal the invitation was, but she was also the person who would be the most jealous that I was invited while she wasn’t. I paused. Maybe they hadn’t invited her because she would have never indulged the idea of a strip club. Maybe she was more professional than I was—more confident she could earn a spot in M&A on merit alone. A sense of embarrassment mingled with my excitement, but couldn’t quite hamper it.

*

I was poring over the presentation I was preparing for the conference when I was interrupted by a cheerful “Hey, kiddo!” Peter was leaning against my doorframe, his arms folded over the front of his crisp blue shirt, one leg bent over the other.

“Hi!” I looked up from the stack of papers now forming a fort around me. I had just closed a deal for Matt and Jordan—only two hours behind our slated closing time. As soon as I had placed the receiver down from the closing call, my body shut down. The presentation for Miami could wait until after I slept. It was only five o’clock, but my lids drooped low, nausea overtook hunger, and my limbs were slow to obey my brain. Seeing the state I was in, Anna had already called a car for me to go home and sleep.

Peter stepped past the threshold of my office, where the carpet changed from the gray of the hallway to dusty blue.

“You’ll be at the Stag River party tonight, right?”

I jerked my head over to him and called my Outlook calendar to life. I had forgotten to put it in my calendar, and therefore I had forgotten about it entirely.

“I forgot,” I said apologetically. “I’m so busy . . .”

“Look. I know you’ve been getting killed lately, but everybody who does work for them shows up. That’s you now. Of course, it’s your decision in the end, but I’m just letting you know that it’s an important event for you to attend. I’ll owe you one.” It was as close as Peter Dunn would ever come to asking, rather than telling, an associate to do something. “Six thirty at the Rainbow Room.” He turned to leave, pausing in my doorway. “You look . . . stressed.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes,” I said sleepily, and wrapped my arm around my far shoulder in a half hug, attempting to counteract the feeling that I was about to unravel.

“Look, my wife and I are going to her sister’s wedding this weekend in Mexico. She’s on her fourth marriage . . . don’t get me started. Anyway, our ski house in Killington is free. You’re welcome to take it for a long weekend with your boyfriend. Duck out after work Thursday, and the house is all set up to work from Friday. Wi-Fi, printer, everything.” He waited for my reaction.

Say no. It’s an empty gesture. He’s just being nice.

“Thanks so much, Peter. That’s really kind. But we have First-Year Academy in LA in February, so I’m sure I’ll get some rest there.”

“Are you kidding? Sitting in trainings with colleagues is not relaxing. You can even bring friends to my place if you want—there are five bedrooms. There’s no food in the fridge, but there’s everything else you need. It’s right on the mountain. And if the snow’s no good, there’s a spa and a jacuzzi. What do you think?”

Maybe this was exactly what Sam and I needed to get back on track, to reconnect.

“Alex?”

“Yes.” I looked up at Peter. “Yes. That sounds so amazing. I could really use a break. I cannot thank you enough.”

Peter reached into his pocket and fiddled with his key ring, prying one loose. He tossed me a key and fob.

“Fob is for the house. Key is for the ski locker just outside. Enjoy!”

“Peter, this is so generous . . .”

“It’s a pleasure, kiddo. You’ve been doing great work. It doesn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated. Consider this a token of gratitude.”

I smiled. “I thought that’s what a paycheck was.”

He laughed. “Alex, if you break down your salary by the hours you work, it’s a lot closer to minimum wage than you realize.” I groaned. “See you at the party.”

I turned back to work but couldn’t focus. What if a weekend away with Sam just proved how far we had drifted apart? No. It would be great. I would make it great. I checked my personal email in-box, which was filled with all junk, except for one email from Sam with Christmas vacation suggestions. I wrote him back that, bad news, I wasn’t allowed to take vacation this year, but that I’d be making it up to him with a long weekend in Vermont.

Growing annoyed at the presumption behind his email—was I supposed to pay for both of us to go to some Caribbean island?—and trying to put myself in the best possible frame of mind about Vermont, I distracted myself further by logging in to my checking account. I stared at the balance, which steadily climbed regardless of how much I put toward retirement, saved in my Roth IRA, and flushed down the toilet paying our astronomical New York City rent. I looked at the clock again and smiled slightly to myself as I realized I had just enough time to get a new outfit for the night.