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  “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. Her long 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—”

  “We don’t have time to argue this. We didn’t get where we are on our looks.”

  Listening, Mary thought Anne was making sense. Why turn down a free makeover? Besides, one of the dresses was super cute, especially for maternity clothes. It was a navy-linen shift with a boatneck, in which she would look nautical but not like a battleship. But she would take a pass on the lip plumpers. Everything on her was plump enough.

  Mary said, “Bennie, I think Anne might be onto something. It’s like Who Wore It Better, for lawyers.”

  “But we look fine, don’t we?” Bennie strode to the mirror, and Mary could tell that even she wasn’t completely happy with her reflection. Bennie’s blonde hair had curled in the humidity, so tendrils coiled out of her topknot like broken springs. Her khaki suit was as wrinkled as a Venetian blind, and Mary was pretty sure she hadn’t shaved her legs recently, but that was unsayable.

  “Sorry, but I agree with Bennie,” Judy said, sitting at the table with her mouth full of cheese hoagie. “We are what we are. That is The Way of the Tao.”

  Mary looked over. “Did you really want to be a Buddhist nun?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did I not know that?”

  “Because people are eternally unknowable.”

  “More Lao-Tzu?”

  “No, my mother.” Judy shrugged, chewing away. “Anyway we don’t need to get all dressed up. Everybody already knows what we look like. We look like ourselves. I’m a case in point.”

  Mary hid her smile while Bennie, Anne, and John took in Judy’s outfit, one of her wackiest ever. In fact, if Judy had a stylist, it would be spin art. She wore a banana-yellow T-shirt that said YOU SAY YOU WANT A WEAVOLUTION, which she had on with throwback painter’s pants and vegan clogs, in green. Her pink hair stuck out like a fuzzy tennis ball, and from one earlobe hung a gray feather, which Mary hoped was a new earring and not from a passing pigeon.

  Anne folded her arms. “Well, ladies? What’s the verdict?”

  “I vote yes,” Mary answered.

  “I vote no,” Judy answered.

  Bennie glanced sideways at Anne. “Only if you do it while we work. And no lip plumpers.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The press conference was about to start, and Bennie, Mary, Judy, Anne, and John settled on one side of the conference table, while reporters took seats on the other side of the table, spilling outside the room and opening notebooks, thumbing through cell phones, and taking pictures with their cell phones, cameras, and video cameras. Mary faced the throng with renewed self-confidence, since she had managed to keep her soup-and-crackers down and there was nothing like new clothes to boost a girl’s mood. She had on a shiny pair of low-heeled black pumps, a fresh pair of contacts, and more makeup than most hookers, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

  She glanced over at Bennie, who looked beautiful with only light makeup emphasizing her bright blue eyes and a bronzer on her lovely cheekbones. Her crazy curls had been flat-ironed into a classic French twist, and for the first time ever, she wore a suit that wasn’t a Brooks Brothers khaki. Anne had talked her into a well-tailored red suit because it was a bold color, which made it butch enough for Bennie to feel in charge.

  Sitting next to Mary was Judy, in a faux-Chanel suit of pinkish tweed, which looked fashion-forward with her magenta hair and edgy makeup. None of the reporters seemed to notice that she still had on her vegan clogs, since she refused to wear any of the new shoes because they were leather. Anne sat next to her, undoubtedly thrilled to be finished styling her colleagues while they studied documents, argued over case strategy, and rehearsed the press conference. John sat at the end of the line, holding his head high, which Mary knew was an act. He was still embarrassed that he had been mentioned in the Complaint, and most of the rehearsal was directed at him, since he would have to take questions about what he’d said during the job interview.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Bennie began, with a newly glossy smile. She had on nude lip gloss, since she wouldn’t agree to actual lipstick, much less lipliner. “Thank you for coming. You know me and my partners well enough to know that we rarely speak to the press. We simply don’t try our cases in the media. But at the same time, we felt compelled to respond not only to the allegations raised in this meritless Complaint, but also to the entirely erroneous statements about us personally, made by opposing counsel Nick Machiavelli at his press conference today.”

  The reporters scribbled away, the photographers took pictures, and somebody in the back raised his hand. “Will you take questions later?”

  “Of course, briefly.” Bennie smiled again, as if she didn’t mind being interrupted, which Mary knew she hated. In any event, they had already decided that they would take questions, anticipated what they would be asked, and developed answers for each one. “As you already know, Nick Machiavelli has today filed a complaint with the Pennsylvania Human Relations Commission on behalf of three individual plaintiffs, suing me and my partners personally under the Pennsylvania Human Relation
s Act, alleging that we failed to hire the three individuals because they were male. I’m not going to discuss the specifics of the allegations and I’m speaking for my partners today, Mary DiNunzio and Judy Carrier.” Bennie gestured to Judy and Mary, who nodded, but stayed quiet, according to plan. “We wanted to go on record to make clear that we deny these allegations, that they’re completely untrue, and that we will prove as much before the Commission, and if need be, in the Court of Common Pleas. However, a categorical denial is not the reason we invited you to our offices today.”

  Mary’s face twitched under her makeup. She knew what Bennie was going to say next because they had decided upon it together, but it was tough and aggressive. Judy had agreed even though it was against her religion, and Mary had gone along with it, too. But that didn’t mean that she wasn’t nervous. She sent up a prayer to St. Jude, Patron Saint of Lost Causes, and tried not to see that as symbolic.

  Bennie tilted her chin upward. “What we want you to understand is that this litigation against us was filed in bad faith. It’s not a lawsuit, it’s a smear campaign. Behind the smear campaign is not these three individual plaintiffs. The person behind the smear campaign is Nick Machiavelli, and we have ample reason to believe that he manufactured this case.” She paused when the reporters reacted with surprise and interest, obviously anticipating something juicy. “You may be wondering why he would do such a thing. The answer is, for personal revenge because we defeated him in a previous case—and for other personal reasons we will not detail today. But as he said, there’ll be plenty of twists and turns as this litigation goes on, so stay tuned.”

  Instantly the reporters reacted, looking at each other, scribbling more hastily, or starting their cell-phone video cameras if they hadn’t already. Judy stiffened in her chair, and Mary kept her face front and her lipsticked smile plastered on, as Bennie continued.

  “Unfortunately, the procedures under the Pennsylvania Human Relations Act do not provide for a counterclaim by defendants or a mechanism for dismissing a lawsuit brought in bad faith. However, we are putting Nick Machiavelli on notice. We will defeat him before the Human Relations Commission and if he continues to pursue this matter in Common Pleas Court, we will file a counterclaim against him for fees and damages.” Bennie paused, eyeing the reporters directly. “And we will defeat him, and soundly.”

  Mary swallowed hard. She didn’t know if Bennie was right that they would be able to prove that Nick had manufactured the case, but they were going to devote themselves to the case for the foreseeable future, or at least until she gave birth to a child, whichever came first.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, that’s our statement, so I open it up to a few brief questions at this time.”

  The reporters all shouted at once, “Bennie, I have a question!” “Bennie, who’s counsel for the defense and why isn’t he or she here?” “So this is a vendetta?”

  Bennie raised a hand to silence them. “Counsel for the defense is Roger Vitez, and he isn’t here because we could handle it ourselves. And no, this is not a vendetta, not on our part. If anything, we’re on the receiving end of the vendetta, and if it was anybody but us, I would say we were victims. But anybody who knows this firm knows that we’re no victims.”

  A few of the reporters chuckled, and a woman nodded in approval. Somebody from the back yelled out, “Bennie, any comment about the statement that John Foxman allegedly made to one of the plaintiffs?”

  Bennie held up a hand again. “Yes, that’s an excellent question and needs to be addressed. So I’ll turn it over to my associate John Foxman, because he can speak for himself.” She gestured to John. “John, would you like to take that question?”

  Mary held her breath, knowing that it was risky, even though they had discussed verbatim what he would say. She felt Judy nudge her under the table with her clog, which was kind of scratchy.

  John cleared his throat, facing the reporter. “Yes, I can answer that succinctly. First, I do not believe that this firm or any of its partners discriminate against men. I do not believe they ever discriminated against me and I do not believe that they discriminated against the individual plaintiffs, as the Complaint alleges. I agree completely with Bennie that this lawsuit is a vendetta brought for personal reasons by opposing counsel Nick Machiavelli. I myself have personal knowledge of the facts that support our position, but I am not going to discuss that today.”

  John spoke firmly and confidently, his tone ringing true, and Mary could see the reporters reacting positively. She began to feel a glimmer of hope that this press conference had paid off, in addition to getting her a free dress and shoes. Getting out in front of the allegations was the right move, but she knew it was only the beginning of a long, difficult battle.

  John continued, “That said, I did interview the plaintiff in question and I did make the statement that he alleged. However, in the Complaint, the statement is taken completely out of context. As you can see, I’m the only male lawyer at this firm. And occasionally, yes, I do feel out of place. In fact, this morning we held a baby shower in this very room, and I felt out of place. Way out of place.”

  The reporters laughed, taking notes and snapping pictures of John, who forced a smile, and Mary gave him a lot of credit. This couldn’t have been easy, but he was hitting a home run, just by being honest. She felt a sudden swell of pride for truth, justice, and the American way. Or maybe it was the hormones.

  John heaved a final sigh. “So I think that’s all I should say at the present time. As a trial lawyer, I hate to give the other side free discovery. But like Bennie, I felt compelled to respond to these allegations and explain them. Before I finish, I’d like to take a moment to apologize to my colleagues at the firm, whom I like and respect so very much. I’m sorry I spoke so imprudently, and I’m sorry I gave Nick Machiavelli ammunition to use against us.”

  Mary looked over in surprise and so did Bennie and Judy. They hadn’t rehearsed any of this before the conference, and John was clearly speaking from the heart.

  Bennie didn’t hesitate. “John, thank you very much.” She returned her attention to the reporters. “Any last questions before we get back to work?”

  “Just one!” a female reporter yelled from the back. “John, if you like it so much here, why are you looking for a new job?”

  “Wait, uh, well—” John didn’t finish the sentence, turning red under his fair skin. Mary had no idea that John was looking for a job and she was pretty sure that nobody else knew either. John seemed completely flustered, so it must have been true.

  Bennie rallied. “Thank you for your question,” she called to the reporter, without missing a beat. “John’s future employment isn’t relevant to the allegations in this lawsuit, nor is it anyone’s business but his.”

  “But did you know he had his resume out, Bennie?”

  Bennie kept her smile firmly in place. “As you know, Rosato & DiNunzio was founded not as an all-female firm, but as a firm that represented those seeking justice and vindication for individual civil liberties. As such, we have no problems with anyone who seeks to change or even better their lot in life. And equally, we value the privacy of those that do so, as I assume you will too.”

  “John, why are you telling people that ‘you’ll never make partner at Rosato because you’re not a woman’?” The question came from the same reporter, a scruffy woman with spiky gelled hair, in the back. “Doesn’t that support the Complaint? Or is that bad faith, too?”

  John recoiled as if absorbing a blow. Mary froze, in stunned disbelief. Judy couldn’t hide her frown, and Anne’s eyes rounded with shock.

  “That’s enough for now.” Bennie rose quickly, despite her new high heels. “We’re not going to examine every single statement John may or may not have made, nor are we going to try the lawsuit in my conference room.”

  “John, answer the question!” the scruffy reporter called out, and the others joined in, making a minor uproar. “Mr. Foxman, any comment?” “Is that true?” “Who�
��d you say that to?” “Mr. Foxman, look over here!”

  Bennie ignored them all. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming. We appreciate your attention and we look forward to never seeing you again.”

  The reporters burst into laughter, closing their notebooks, pocketing their cell phones, shutting down the cameras, picking up their messenger bags, and getting ready to go. Mary, Judy, Anne, and John remained seated while Bennie did some glad-handing, then stopped the woman with the gelled spiky hair, who had asked the last question.

  “Excuse me,” Bennie said, touching the woman’s arm. “What’s your name? Who are you with?”

  “I freelance,” the reporter answered, hurrying ahead, bolting out of the conference room ahead of the others, then they left, and Bennie closed the door behind them. They were finally alone in the conference room, but nobody said anything. Mary sensed that partly they were waiting for the hubbub to die down on the other side of the door—and partly there was nothing to say. The press conference had been a resounding success until it turned into a disaster. Mary was still processing what she had just heard, and Judy looked as stunned as she was, now that they had let their game faces slip.

  Bennie leaned against the back of the closed door. “Foxman!” she said, her blue eyes flashing with cold fury. “What the hell!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The conference room went dead quiet, and Mary hadn’t known she could feel worse, but she did. She was dumbfounded that John wanted to leave the firm and would bad-mouth them that way. Judy and Anne looked equally astonished. They had been utterly blindsided, and now reporters would run with the story that was new evidence against them, damaging their case. There could be no doubt that John had done it, because he looked guilt-stricken to Mary, and she should know because she was a guilt expert.

  Bennie didn’t rant and rave, but merely folded her arms, still leaning against the door. “You need to explain this to us, right now,” she said, with controlled anger.