The sound of morning traffic reached Brittany's ears the second she opened the door to walk out of the coffee shop. Though it was still loud, over time, she had grown accustomed to it and could now all but block it out entirely. Adjusting her grip on the cardboard container holding her coffees, she quickly began making her way down the sidewalk with all the other pedestrians. Her destination wasn't far, and within minutes, she was entering the revolving doors of the giant skyscraper, glad to be out of the cold. New York winters were tough, and she had not grown accustomed to them yet.

Giving the front lobby security guard a timid smile, she made her way to the elevators. She strolled down the hall, letting her index finger drag across the wall and hitting each "up" button as she passed it. After a few seconds, she heard a high-pitched ding behind her and entered the empty elevator. When the doors closed, she checked her reflection in the mirror-like metal. Her hair was a little wind-swept, her cheeks a little flushed from the cold outside, but overall, she was pleased with what she saw. Her black high-heeled pumps, black tights, and black pencil skirt all looked quite professional—albeit a little boring—but her bright turquoise button-down that was tucked in gave her outfit just the right amount of spunk. Plus, all the other ladies with her position here were at least in their mid-50s. They all rotated between blacks, whites, and varying shades of gray for their work wear. The way Brittany saw it, somebody had to bring the color, right?

The elevator once again made the high-pitched dinging noise, indicating she'd reached her stop. The view of New York City from the 16th floor was breathtaking. If she'd had an office, she would've been able to appreciate it a lot more often. As it was, her small desk was located right outside her boss's office (which did have quite a spectacular view). All of the other assistants were already there, answering calls and setting up meetings. When she reached her desk, she noticed the little light that indicated a waiting voicemail blinking on her phone. Sighing a little, she took the newspaper that had been folded under her arm since the coffee shop and placed it on the edge of her desk. Then, she removed one of the coffees from the cardboard holder and placed it next to the newspaper. This had been her routine for the past year that she'd worked here: bring the boss the morning paper and a coffee. She didn't mind, though; he was nice enough to pay for her morning coffee every day too. With that thought, she pulled the other drink from the container and took a tentative sip. It had cooled down just enough during the walk over to not scald her tongue. Feeling the warmth spread through her veins, she tossed the empty container in a waste basket and sat down to begin listening to the voicemails.

Being an attorney's assistant wasn't exactly a glamorous job. She brought the morning coffee and occasionally the afternoon lunch, answered phones, and took notes. At least the pay was steady and enough to support her. Plus, the firm she worked for had to be almost as old as the city itself. All of the partners had white hair and wore suspenders. That description also applied to her boss. Although he wasn't a partner, he was one of the best lawyers here. He was a nice man, old enough to be her grandfather—the kind of man you'd expect to offer you a butterscotch hard candy that he always carried around in his pockets. Overall, he really was a great boss, and that made working for him that much easier.

As Brittany took another sip of her coffee, she grabbed the receiver and began listening to the voicemails waiting for her, taking notes about each one. Just as she finished, her boss rounded the corner, carrying a briefcase and quickly stowing away his cell phone in his jacket pocket. When he looked down at Brittany sitting at her desk, he beamed his familiar smile.

"Good morning, Brittany! You're looking bright as ever, my dear," he said with a little bob of his head.

Brittany smiled back and smoothed out the front of her blouse. "Thank you, Mr. Perkins. Are you having a good morning?"

"I'm sure it'll be much better after I've had my coffee. Do I ever give you my thanks for getting it every day?"

"Only about every day," Brittany grinned up at him.

He gave a small chuckle. "Just checking. What have you got for me today?"

Brittany pulled out the notes she'd been making from the voicemails, as well as the calendar she kept of all his scheduled meetings. "You don't have a meeting with the other associates until noon, but Mr. Browning called again. He says you're the only man who can win his case."

"I've told him about five times I won't take it. That man is as annoying as he is guilty."

"Well, he may need to hear that a sixth time, I guess. Here are the others who called." She gave him the list of notes she'd made.

"Thank you, Brittany. What would I do without you?"

She knew it was rhetorical, but she answered anyway. "Probably just hire a new assistant," she deadpanned.

He winked quickly before shuffling towards his office. "But they wouldn't be as colorful."

"No, I doubt they would. I'll call you at 11:45 for your 12:00 meeting."

"Thank you, ma'am," he finished with a smile before entering his office and closing the door behind him.

The rest of her day comprised of taking Mr. Perkins' calls and reminding him of the people he needed to call back and of his appointments. By the time she got home, she was exhausted. She supposed it was the constant boredom of work all day. After a quick dinner, she curled up on the couch to wind down with a glass of wine and her favorite TV show. After a few hours, she got up, set her alarm, and went to bed. She'd start the exact same process the next morning when she woke up. Of course, she didn't know then that everything was about to change.


The elevator dinged its familiar ding, and Brittany made her way to her desk on the 16th floor. When she got there, she placed the newspaper and the coffee right on the edge, then took notes on the waiting voicemails. Mr. Perkins still hadn't arrived, so she went ahead and pulled out her calendar so she'd have his daily itinerary ready for him too. When she finished everything, he still hadn't shown. She was just thinking his coffee would be cold by the time he got there, when another assistant walked around the corner. Her face was somber, and she looked at Brittany with pity. Brittany had just opened her mouth to ask what was wrong when the woman spoke.

"Brittany, I'm so sorry to have to tell you this." She paused, confusing Brittany even more.

"What is it?" Brittany asked hurriedly. Just spit it out already.

"Mr. Perkins...he...he was in a car accident on his way in this morning."

Brittany was now the one to pause, letting that information sink in. After a few seconds, she asked the pivotal question. "Is he okay?"

"Brittany, I'm sorry...he didn't make it."

Moments passed without any reaction from the blonde. He didn't make it? That wasn't possible. Mr. Perkins had to be pushing 70. He was supposed to die of something old people die of...not a car accident.

The woman began speaking again. Brittany remembered randomly that her name was Margaret.

"Look, I know you really liked working for him. Mr. Taylor says you should go home for the rest of the day, and that you can have off until his...funeral...also. But he wants to see you on your way out."

Brittany just nodded numbly. Mr. Taylor was the senior partner for the firm, and Brittany had only ever spoken to him a handful of times. She usually just spoke to his assistants. Without really thinking, she picked up her purse and started walking back to the elevators, leaving the other assistant behind without a second glance. She traveled up a few more floors, and when she reached Mr. Taylor's office, his receptionist nodded for her to go in. She knocked anyway.

"Come in," came a gravelly voice from inside.

She entered and stood in front of the huge desk at the center of the room. On any other day, she would have taken in how beautiful the room was, how beautiful the city was outside. Today, she thought it all looked a little bleak.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Her voice sounded so small. She looked up at the white-haired man behind the desk looking back at her.

"Ms. Pierce, I am as shocked and as saddened as you are to hear of John's passing. He will always be known as one of the greatest attorneys this firm has ever seen."

Brittany said nothing, just waiting for him to continue.

"I am assuming you've been told you have permission to take today off. And until the day of his funeral service."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"It is only right. I will be taking off for the funeral myself."

"Yes, sir," Brittany said again.

"I wanted to see you today before you left, however, because of another matter."

What could he want with her?

"I don't mean to be insensitive, but with John's passing, you no longer have an attorney to report to." He paused. It looked like he was struggling with his words.

Oh God, is he firing me? Brittany's thoughts ran rampant. Surely not...he's telling me to take days off, not to never come back. What's he getting at then?

"We were thinking of hiring a new representative for the firm anyway. We'd even had the interviews...and now it seems that we have to. I hope you don't mind, but upon your return, we have selected the new attorney for whom you will be working. She's very young, just graduated a few years ago actually, but she's fierce and has already made a reputation for herself. We think some new blood might give this firm a more diverse clientele."

He continued talking about her—about her credentials, Brittany thought, but she wasn't really listening anymore. This morning, she had bought Mr. Perkins his coffee and newspaper. Now, Mr. Perkins was...was gone...and she already had a new boss? She felt her sadness begin to turn into anger.

Bolder than she probably should have been, she interrupted Mr. Taylor. "She won't be in his office, will she?"

"Excuse me, Ms. Pierce?" he asked, confused.

"This new woman, she won't be in Mr. Perkins' office, right? What about his things? His family will need to get all that. We can't ask them to do it right away."

"I hadn't actually considered that, but you make a good point. We will give her the empty office on the 17th floor. Your desk and things will be moved for you."

For some strange reason, she felt a wave of relief and nodded in approval. She didn't want to work for some stranger who just took an office that didn't belong to her.

"That is all I wanted to discuss with you, Ms. Pierce. Go ahead and go home. We will expect you back at 8 AM the day after the service."

"Yes, sir." Brittany turned to leave. When she reached the door, however, she turned back to ask one last question. "Mr. Taylor?"

He looked up expectantly.

"This new attorney, I don't think you told me her name."

"Ah yes, you probably should know that before you meet her," he said with a weak smile. Brittany did not smile back and waited for him to continue.

"It's Santana Lopez."