Wolf in the Shadows Read Online Free Page B

eyes were impatient, Mike’s somewhat
     annoyed.
    Well, no wonder, I thought, recalling the conversation Rae and I had just had. To them the law and its trappings— even All
     Souls’s shamelessly casual partners’ meetings—were a serious matter.
    Both Gloria and Mike had struggled to achieve what Hank, Pam, and Larry took for granted. While I knew only the outlines of
     Mike’s earlier years and nothing at all of Gloria’s, I was certain neither had enjoyed the slightest privilege or luxury.
     In contrast, Hank had been raised in an affluent Peninsula suburb and hadn’t worked a day until he graduated from law school.
     Pam’s childhood had been spent on a Lanai pineapple plantation; private schools, both there and on the mainland, had prepared
     her for law school at the University of Chicago, where the worst hardship she’d endured was snow. And Larry—he’d been a rabble-rouser
     all his life, bummed around Europe for a couple of years after college, then skated through Yale Law. It was a wonder any
     of them had developed so much as a shred of social consciousness, but in some way they had. I supposed that the assurance
     and feelings of entitlement instilled in them by their upbringing had enabled them to simultaneously take the law seriously
     and engage in antics such as poking and joking and walnut-tossing. Just as the lack of said assurance and feelings of entitlement
     made such antics seem inappropriate, if not downright offensive, to Gloria and Mike.
    In an odd way I empathized with them all, because my own experience bridged the gap. My father had been a chief petty officer
     in the navy, underpaid and often out to sea. In his absence, my mother’s hands were too full raising five problematical kids
     to supplement the family income. True, we owned our own big rambling home on a large lot on one of San Diego’s finger canyons,
     but there were years when we depended on the largess of my uncle Ed, a commercial fisherman who brought us catch after catch
     of rock cod and sea bass and halibut. To this day I will not willingly eat fish.
    In my family, high-school graduation was supposed to be the cutoff date for financial support, and unlike a couple of my freeloading
     siblings, I’d taken the rule seriously. I went to work in retail security, lived at home, paid room and board, and tried to
     save toward an apartment of my own. Given my spendthrift tendencies, I suppose I’d still be living there and saving toward
     the apartment if my supervisor at the department store hadn’t encouraged me to go to college. That, plus incredibly high SAT
     scores and a small scholarship, had gotten me to Berkeley. But even then college hadn’t exactly been a carefree interlude—not
     when I was working nights and weekends as a security guard.
    Maybe, I thought now, I’d forgotten where I’d come from. Lost sight of who and what I really was. Maybe because I’d achieved
     more than I’d expected to—a certain professional reputation, a newly remodeled home of my own, a comfortable life-style—maybe
     I’d lost my ability to relate to people like Gloria and Mike, people who deserved far more credit for their accomplishments
     than I for mine.
    The thought unsettled me. I wasn’t like that—at least not in the self-image I valued.
    Hank glanced at me. Whatever expression I wore seemed to sober him. He said to the others, “Okay, let’s come to order again—if
     possible.” To me he added, “We asked you to attend the meeting to discuss a promotion.”
    A promotion. They weren’t going to lay me off, or even demote me. They wanted to give me a better job.
    So why had Hank acted so goddamn shifty earlier? Why did he now fail to meet my eyes? Why was Pam staring down at the rug,
     her face hidden by her shiny wings of black hair? Why did Larry’s waxed handlebar mustache twitch as he burrowed through his
     bag of walnuts? Only Gloria and Mike looked at me—expectantly, as if they wanted to share my