Hello, people!
Happy Saturday, and Happy Passover and Happy Easter if you celebrate.
Usual disclaimer applies - I still don't own any of it.
Team Momo wouldn't exist without Midnight Cougar and Alice's White Rabbit with their red pens, or without AGoodWitch, Driving Edward, Mel, Maplestyle, and Eternally Addicted who pre-read and tell me if I'm off my rocker or not.
I want to thank you all for propelling StN past 700 reviews, and voting it into First Place as your Favorite Undiscovered Gem Fic in the 2023 TFFAs. My other story Behind the Ivories also placed Second as Favorite Empire Records Fic and Third as Favorite MY EMOTIONS Fic. Yours truly placed First as Favorite Mr Rogers (LOL, people - I love you, but do you know my sarcastic a$$?). It was a great round of TFFAs overall for Team Momo, and for a lot of other talented people in the fandom. It's also been announced this year's TFFAs will also be the last ones. Please join me in thanking the host and staff for all their hard work and dedication for all these years. They'll be sorely missed.
Without further ado, back with Bella today!
Chapter 20 - BPOV
Miss Rebecca Black-Whiteley joined CCM Legal on Valentine's Day—February 14, 2019.
The exact day was etched in my memory because she managed to turn my first Valentine's Day with Edward into a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. At least, she generously spread the ugliness firm-wide.
The day started with Jamie Masen parading her around the hallways. After all, it was her first day with CCM, and she had to learn the lay of the land.
I was walking back from Alistair's office with Rose at my side when our paths crossed.
Jamie, always the gentleman, addressed me first. "Bella! Just the person I wanted to see. Have you met our new senior associate?"
I approached her as I would any new hire. Trying to be nice. "Not in person, but I've read her bio. Rebecca, right? Nice to have you on board. I'm Bella Swan, the marketing manager."
She sneered at me. Sneered!
While she persisted in not dignifying me with an answer, I figured I'd spend thirty seconds giving her the once-over.
Rebecca Black-Whiteley, almost as tall as Rosalie in heels, leveled me a look of pure contempt from the top of her Manolos and sleek power suit. Instead of answering me, she flipped her mane of wavy auburn hair over her shoulder. Her eyes, a muddy hazel shade, could have been pretty—if only she'd abstained from applying long, thick, fake eyelashes and mascara that caked on their tips, dimming the color of her irises. The sparkly, sage green eyeshadow she'd chosen didn't do her any favors either. It didn't help that her suit, though tailored, seemed to be a size too small—the button on her jacket tugged at the seams, and the shoulders wouldn't sit right. She kept pulling the hem here and there to adjust it, without success. The color of the suit clashed with the rest of her palette—who thought a hot fuchsia number would look good on her? She looked like a corporate caricature of Poison Ivy. Our only hope of survival was that she didn't hail from the same kind of rogues' gallery. But based on her behavior, hope was thin on the ground with this one.
At last, she turned to Jamie, the haughty sneer still stuck on her face. "Why are we here? I don't interact with the staff."
"Then it's gonna be hard to do your job around here," Rosalie muttered, too low for Rebecca to hear.
Alistair, who walked past on his way to the breakroom, caught the tail end of the conversation and wasn't faring any better. His face was redder than his hair, and he appeared about ready to blow a gasket.
Jamie, God love him, didn't mince words. "We've been over the firm's founding principles. We treat staff with dignity and respect at CCM. If you can't, we'll have to re-examine your tenure here."
She didn't take kindly to that. "But I rank above them."
"I won't go into the foolishness of such a statement. The staff reports to me, and I rank above you. Love it or leave it, Rebecca. Rose, Bella, I'll see you later."
With those words, Jamie pulled her away from us—a good idea too, because Rose seemed ready to claw Rebecca's eyes out. As he walked away, Jamie moved his index finger in a circle above his head; that was his signature move to tell us "later."
"That one's gonna be a huge fucking pain in the ass," Rose whispered. "Let's go into your office to talk strategy. You need to know what you can and cannot do with Rebitch."
&&&StN&&&
Three hours later, I should have been having lunch. Should being the operative word in that statement because, instead, I had to sit through a two-hour meeting, without lunch, with James Masen and Rebecca. In Jamie's office.
Ostensibly, Jamie had called the meeting to review one of our latest pitches so Rebecca could familiarize herself with our marketing materials.
"Ideally, I'd like Rebecca to run point for me on marketing needs for the department," Jamie said, starting the meeting. Too bad that was his entire contribution to it, and his famous last words.
That would have been well and good; except, knowing Jamie's penchant for eschewing all things marketing in his job, it wasn't good news for me. Despite being an old-school lawyer who hated technology and thought marketing and branding were gimmicks, he'd learned to see the value of what I did at the firm, and he'd proven he was teachable. He also knew the marketing materials were structured in a certain way for a long list of reasons, and he was perfectly fine with that.
Rebitch, on the contrary, wasn't. What a shocker.
After Jamie left, she went all out to show me who she was.
"I reviewed this pile of crap Jamie gave me. I don't know who thinks this is suitable marketing material for a practice of his caliber, but it's subpar. You will redo all the brochures and bios for the entire department from scratch and submit them to me for my approval by close of business today. Here are my notes, Isadora."
I took a deep, steadying breath to keep myself from seething. Also from scratching her face raw. "The name's Isabella. And no, I will not be redoing anything today from scratch."
"You're beneath me. You take orders from me. You're mere staff; I'm a senior associate. I can do—"
This wench needed a swift kick in the nuts. "Let me stop you right there. You can keep terms like 'beneath' and 'staff' out of your mouth when you talk to me. I'm the marketing manager of this firm. As such, I report directly to Alistair. If you'd taken the time and effort to look at the org chart, you'd know that only Alistair and the partners have the authority to order me around."
She huffed, looking down her nose at me. It made her look like she'd swallowed a lemon. "This kind of insubordination is unheard of. I'll have you fired! I'll have you escorted from the building!"
"You can try. Let's see how it ends."
Rosalie would be proud of me. In our strategy meeting, we'd surmised Rebitch would try to be the big woman on campus and walk all over the high-level staff in her quest for superiority. Too bad she didn't have the authority to do it. Only the partners and the executive committee, in addition to Alistair, could decide to reprimand or fire staffers at Rosalie's level and mine. Let alone people with an employment record as stellar as ours.
"You still have to do the work! This is all crap! I don't like it, and you'll redo it all from scratch."
I took another deep breath and proceeded to explain things to her as if she were in kindergarten, where she probably belonged. "If you have notes and suggestions, we'll welcome them. We'll review them and implement them, provided they're consistent with the firm's branding and marketing principles, and they don't violate any of the confidentiality commitments we have with our clients."
"I don't understand a single word you said," she spewed. Her voice sounded as haughty as her attitude. Too bad she'd just come across as a huge idiot.
"I would imagine that's because you're not familiar with how the firm handles its marketing materials. They are developed in concert with the partnership, in such a way that showcases the firm's track record and excellence, and comes across as consistent in all practice areas. We can't change the bankruptcy department's stuff just because you don't like it. It's written like that for a reason. Now, if you have updates, or additions, we'll include them. But they have to comply with the firm's branding principles."
Rebecca looked more puzzled by the minute.
Rosalie's advice was working wonders. She'd distilled it into the motto, "Let's kill her with competence."
"I want my clients' names in my credentials. There are no client names in my track record on the website. I want names there. They're prestigious companies."
How had this ignoramus ever passed a professional ethics class? How had she passed the bar? Lord have mercy on me.
"Confidentiality rules, Rebecca. We don't release the names of companies involved in bankruptcy proceedings unless the client expressly authorizes it. They need to sign a waiver. I don't have any signed waivers for your clients."
"But I want the names on there." She whined like a spoiled brat.
"Who's your assistant?" I had a feeling I knew who it was, but I wanted her to tell me.
"Katelina, Catalina, Kalina…"
Poor Kate. After Grabby, she didn't deserve Rebitch. If this lasted long, she'd quit for real this time. "Katherine. Her name is Katherine; she goes by Kate. I'll send her a template of the waiver. You'll have to get a signed waiver from each client. Otherwise, I can't publish any names. That's final."
"Final? No. Nothing's final. You're refusing to work. I'm going to file a complaint against you with HR. I'm going to tell Jamie."
In her infinite wisdom, Rebitch seemed to think either of those ideas would have a positive outcome for her.
"Sure. Let's call Jamie back." I grabbed the desk phone off the hook before she could stop me. I put it on speaker. Alice picked up—I knew Jamie was in a meeting with Carlisle right now.
"Carlisle Cullen's office. Alice speaking."
"Alice, it's Bella. I'm in Jamie's office with Ms. Black-Whiteley. Is Jamie still with Carlisle?"
Alice, who was a smart cookie, figured out I was on speaker and kept it businesslike. "Hi, Bells. I think he is. What can I do for you?"
"Can you put us through to them, please? We have a thorny issue to untangle and could benefit from their opinion."
While Rebitch huffed and puffed, I wondered how Carlisle would react to her antics. Especially if she tried to wrap Jamie around her over-manicured finger in the process.
"Let me check. Hold on a sec, please."
"Thanks, Alice. We'll wait."
Because we were still on speaker and Alice could put us through at any given time, I hoped Rebecca wouldn't spew any of her idiocies while we waited.
"Bella, what a nice surprise," Carlisle's voice said a minute later.
"How can we old curmudgeons help you two fair ladies?" Jamie asked, joining him on the line.
"Hi, Carlisle. Hi, Jamie. I have a question from Rebecca here. I'll let her address it."
At that point, things got interesting. Faced with the partnership dynamic duo, Rebecca suddenly looked far less pompous and ready to wage war.
"Jamie, it's me," she began coyly.
If her plan was to behave like a Lolita with Jamie, it was going to backfire spectacularly.
"Yes, I gathered. Bella said you were there. I'm busy, Rebecca. What seems to be the problem?" Jamie replied. The annoyed tone of his voice indicated that, perhaps, he'd not given as much carte blanche to Rebecca as she liked to claim.
"This marketing stuff is so bad, Jamie. Subpar, boring stuff. There are no client names. I want all of it redone from scratch. Today. Isadora refuses to do it. This is unconscionable. I want to file a complaint. I can't work like with insubordinate staff," she pleaded, flashing me an evil smile.
Both Jamie and Carlisle seemed to clear their throats, judging from the uneasy coughing that came over the line. For a moment, I waited for their answers with bated breath.
Finally, Carlisle spoke. "Nothing, and I repeat, nothing in those marketing materials is subpar. It was all developed with the partners and approved by the Executive Committee. Realize one thing very quickly, Rebecca. If you insult Bella's work, you insult the entire firm. So, I invite you to choose your words very carefully from here on out. Isabella—and for fuck's sake, her name is Isabella, learn it—has the partnership's complete confidence. If she says it can't be done in one day, we believe her."
"But I thought—"
Jamie interrupted her. "You thought wrong. I told you to familiarize yourself with the documents, not to butcher them. It took Isabella and me weeks to finalize them. They'll stay as they are. And a complaint for what, exactly?"
"Isadora refuses to obey my orders. She has no respect for authority. You have to fire her; I can't work like this!" she wheedled.
"Isabella!" Jamie bellowed in response.
"Yes, Jamie?"
He groaned. "No, not you, Bella. Sorry about that. I meant to correct Rebecca, who wants everybody to be perfect, but can't seem to muster the wherewithal to remember their names."
"What is this I hear about a complaint?" Carlisle interjected.
"Well, I said … What I said," Rebecca added. Eloquence seemed to fail her all of a sudden.
"Rebecca, let me say this to you once and for all. This firm has policies and procedures. Everyone here is required to comply with them, partners included. We may bitch and moan about it, but we do it. If Bella refuses to do something, she has a damn good reason. She's representing the firm and ensuring that our public-facing image is presented in a way that embodies our principles and values and puts us in the best light. You can file a complaint if you feel you've been treated unfairly, but it will open your behavior up to scrutiny as well, especially if your complaint is proven groundless. Do you still want to do that?"
"N-no, sir."
"Good. That concludes our business today, doesn't it?" Carlisle asked. It was clear he didn't expect anyone to contradict his assumption.
"Yes, Carlisle. We're done here," I replied.
"Perfect."
After that, the line clicked off. I placed the headset back into its cradle and collected my paperwork to leave.
Rebitch remained silent, but I figured she'd have to throw a parting salvo. She wasn't the type to let the last word slip through her fingers.
"This isn't over, Isadora. I'll have you fired one of these days."
"You're welcome to try, Rebecca. Have a good day."
Half the day down, half to go. What else could happen today?
Dun, dun, dun ... Rebecca is the house, and nobody's happy about it.