Machiavelli finished by looking directly into the camera, his dark eyes boring into her through the lens, and Mary knew he was talking to her. She felt a shudder at hearing him threaten the firm so directly. Machiavelli was coming for them, and she didn’t know if they could defeat him, even if they were represented by the Zen Master.
Roger ended the video, turning to them. “Breathe deeply, ladies,” he said calmly.
“Hell no!” Bennie jumped to her feet. “He wants a press conference, I’ll give him a press conference.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Bennie charged off the elevator ahead of Mary and Judy, though Mary was getting used to lagging behind everybody, since it took forever to waddle anywhere. These days her belly button reached her destination before she did, followed by her stretch marks. Bennie was on a tear, having spent the cab ride back to the office ranting about Machiavelli, despite Judy’s efforts to calm her and Mary’s efforts not to fart.
“Marshall!” Bennie called as she approached the reception desk, but the receptionist was already on her feet and holding out a pink flurry of phone messages.
“Hi, guys. The media has been calling all morning. I told them about the press conference, and we’re good to go.”
“Thank you.” Bennie grabbed the messages on the fly and headed down the hallway toward their offices, followed by Judy and Mary, who caught Marshall’s eye with a wink.
Marshall stopped Mary before they left the reception area. “Mary, it’s lunchtime, and you need to eat. I ordered you some vegetable soup and crackers, and it’s in the conference room. I put your baby gifts in your office.”
“Thanks so much,” Mary said, meaning it. Marshall was a mother of three, so she had the pregnancy drill down. “Didyou get lunch for Judy? She’s eating for two—herself and Lao-Tzu.”
“Namaste,” Judy said with a smile.
Marshall chuckled. “Yes, I got you and Bennie the usual, and it’s in the conference room. I think you have enough time to eat before it starts.”
“Thanks,” Judy said, and they started walking down the hallway after Bennie, who hurried ahead, barking orders.
“John, where are you? I need answers! And documents!”
“Here I am.” John came out of his office with a handful of papers. “I figured out what happened with the plaintiffs. We got sixteen resumes in response to my ad, all the applicants were men. I interviewed three, one of which turned out to be a plaintiff. McManus. I think you were on trial at the time, that’s why you didn’t know. Here’s your copies of the emails and resumes.”
“Thanks.” Bennie took the papers but kept moving. “Walk with me. I want to understand as much as possible about this fact situation. Obviously we’re not telling them at the press conference, but I want to be up to speed.”
John fell into step with Bennie. “Do you want me at the press conference?”
“Are you kidding?” Bennie didn’t hide her annoyance. “You have to explain yourself, and we’re going to meet now to prepare. Where’s Anne?”
“Waiting for you inside,” John answered, just as Bennie opened the door to the conference room and Mary and Judy filed in behind her, surprised at the sight. The room was back to normal except for a rolling rack of clothes, boxes of shoes, a professional grade makeup case, and a full-length mirror, leaning against the wall.
“Bennie, don’t freak,” Anne said, putting up her hand like a traffic cop. She had on a slim black dress which hugged her model-thin body, making her arms look like licorice sticks. Herlong red hair had been brushed to perfection, and her makeup looked freshly done. “I know you’re not going to like this, but you need to take my advice. Just this once.”
“What’s going on here?” Bennie stopped at the threshold of the conference room with John. Judy went directly to her lunch, which had been set out on the table, and Mary wobbled over to the clothes rack, which held an array of gorgeous dresses and suits with the price tags attached. They had been divided into three sections: BENNIE, JUDY, MARY.
“Just hear me out, Bennie,” Anne said, urgently. “I know you don’t care about clothes, but your messaging at the press conference has to be on point. Part of that is how you look. During lunch, I went shopping with a stylist friend of mine, and we pulled clothes for each of you, and a makeup artist I know lent us everything we need. I even have lip plumpers!”
“No.” Bennie shook her head, incredulous. “That’s absolutely out of the question. We need to prepare.”
“I can make you up while you work, all of you. Just pick a dress and we’ll get started.”
“Get this stuff out of here.” Bennie set the documents on the table.
“Bennie, listen. I watched Machiavelli’s press conference, and it was perfection. He looked the part and so did the plaintiffs. They were appealing, put together, and credible.”
“Oh please. The plaintiffs weren’t credible because they didn’t say anything.”
“They didn’t have to. They dressed the part and they acted the part. They scored without saying a word, and Machiavelli looked awesome, too. Respectable. Believable, responsible—”
“He’s style, and we’re substance. We always have been.”
“Please, listen to me, I’m right.” Anne took a step closer, her expression pleading. “This isn’t an argument in court, it’s a press conference, where the visual matters as much as the content. These reporters are going to take pictures of you, print them, and publish them. The photos of your press conference are going to be shown next to Machiavelli’s—”
