The She-Hulk Diaries by Marta Acosta Read Free Book Online

on that DJ? And why did she think it was so funny to leave a foil three-pack of condoms like a bookmarker in this journal?
    She wears me out.

NOLO CONTENDERE
JANUARY 20
    VALENTINE’S DAY RESOLUTION
COUNTDOWN: 25 DAYS
    When I walked into the conference room at Quintal, Ulrich, Iverson, Ride, & Cooper, a young woman at the table took one look at me and said in a voice as rich and sweet as Tupelo honey, “Oh, brown pinstripes—how quaint!”
    Thus it begins. I was prepared for mind games, because top attorneys are as bloodthirsty as sharks, and they’d want to make sure that I was one of them. I’m fierce in the courtroom when my adrenaline surges and when I inhabit the role of legal badass, but now I had to surreptitiously wipe my clammy palms on my skirt before shaking hands.
    I recognized Amber Tumbridge from her bio on the QUIRC website, but that small photo didn’t convey how perfectly pretty she was—but in a way meant to intimidate. Her glossy golden blond hair fell perfectly below her shoulders, her complexion was perfectly smooth and creamy, herblue-gray eyes were perfectly clear, her lithe body was perfectly toned, her teeth were perfectly pearly, and her suit was a perfect blue-black color.
    But her physical beauty was nothing compared to her exquisite voice. I found myself wanting to hear her speak even though everything she said was aggressive. The others in the room faded into the background as Amber took control of the interview. Clearly, she’d been designated to hammer me down.
    She managed to mention her Yale Law degree (twice), the
Yale Law Review
, a recent victory in a corporate espionage case, the renovation of her historic brownstone, and her friendship with prominent political families. She did this while playing with a ginormous diamond engagement ring on her delicate finger.
    I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d pulled out a tiny tiara and told me that she’d once been crowned America’s Most Accomplished Toddler.
    Amber gave me more attitude during the Q&A. She called UCLA “a nice public school” and my time with the DA “nice public work.” When I mentioned Dad’s job, she said, “A county sheriff? How nice that he’s a public servant.”
    I could tell that she thought “public” was synonymous with second-rate. Or third-rate. Amber’s lips were smiling, but her eyes were sneering, an expression Dahlia calls smeering. This snideness seemed almost personal, but Amber was that kind of woman.
    My roiling emotions caused Shulky to wake inside of me, yearning to get out and grab Amber by her naturally blond hair, swing her until she whirred like helicopter blades, and launch her at the wall. She wanted to hear that delicious voice as a pure scream. I pressed Shulky back down and forced myself to look calm while Amber questioned me repeatedly about my rapid exodus from several firms.
    Amber kept studying my CV, but one of the time manipulators at the Mansion had tweaked my history to account for the occasions when Shulky had been off-planet. The TM could also jimmy the continuum so I could take weekends off—or maybe visit Paris!
    I’d rehearsed my answers so I sounded reasonably smooth eventhough my nerves were jittering. “I’ve worked for a variety of companies in order to build up a range of experience so that I can better handle the complexity of my clients’ cases.”
    Amber didn’t say, “What a pile of hooey,” but it was in her eyes.
    I aced the other questions, throwing in heaps of legal Latin, all
audi alteram partem
this and
ex turpi causa non oritur actio
that, and I was in the home stretch when Amber said, “We at QUIRC will expect partner-track attorneys to surpass two thousand billable hours,” and watched to see if I’d react to the insane amount of work required at top-echelon firms. “We’re not interested in hiring someone who will decide that spending time with family and friends is more important.”
    “I would expect no less.”
    Amber gave me