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That afternoon Sandy escorted a young woman into Ali's office. "Ali, I would like you to meet Constance Foster. Connie is finishing this year at USC Law School. She comes to us highly recommended by Ginger and Charley, among others. She's in the top five in her class." She turned to the girl and said with a smile, "Enjoy your chat with our phantom partner." She quietly closed the door as she left.
Ali was impressed with the girl's appearance. She smiled at her and then looked over the notes Sandy and Ginger had made on the girl's résumé that Sandy had handed to her. She said, "Connie, I'm sure you must be pretty well talked out after meeting with my two partners. I have two questions for you, though: First, what do you think of our merry band? Second, why are you so nervous?"
At the second question the girl was so startled she nearly jumped from her chair. Ali was looking at her closely and saw a look of fear come into the girl's eyes replacing the nervousness she had sensed when the girl came in.
Connie Foster was another tall girl — five feet nine. She had blonde hair and brilliant emerald-green eyes like Joan and Ginger. Her blonde hair was more silver than Ali's gold. She had a light tan and a perfect complexion. Ali noticed that the business suit she was wearing was inexpensive but conservatively styled and most appropriate for a young lawyer.
"Mrs. Clifford, before answering your questions may I ask a couple of my own? First, I'm very impressed with your Firm. But where are the rest of your people?"
Ali laughed merrily and put her finger in front of her lips. "Shh! That's part of our secret. There is no 'rest.' I think you've seen us all. There's only Ginger and me, along with Sandy who's the litigation partner. Then we have Kathy Carlson who's secretary to the three of us, assisted by Judy Jeffries who doubles as receptionist, telephone operator, and travel agent. Then there's Joan Fredrick who makes it all work. We're it, I'm afraid."
The girl looked puzzled. "But there have to be more people! I have a good idea of your client list and your billings. You have to have a support staff of at least fifteen."
Ali just shrugged. "I'm sorry. We don't. We just muddle through. But you didn't answer my question: What do you think of us?"
Now the girl smiled. "I don't know what to make of it. It's more like a sorority than a law office. I have never seen so much kidding and teasing ... at all levels. When I visit some other law offices I sense fear on the part of the support staff toward the partners — and sometimes even toward the young professionals. There's none of that here. The people seem to like each other..."
"Why did you stop?" Ali asked.
The girl's head had come up and she was looking at Ali thoughtfully. "Because as I said it, I realized it's not true. It is not like, it's ... love! Of course," she said with a brilliant smile, "That's it! Your people actually love each other. I gather something's going on with Joan, isn't it? Damn it, now I see! It's like a family. Something's going on with Joan and the rest of the family is helping, isn't it?"
Ali smiled and nodded. "How about the second question? When I asked, Connie, the nervousness I sensed was replaced by fear that I saw. What's the trouble?"
Ali was surprised as the girl got up from her chair, apparently to leave. Ali rose, too. The girl looked at her and said, "I'm sorry for wasting your time, Mrs. Clifford. I thought it could work but I forgot you were an actress. You can spot an act in an instant and my act isn't nearly good enough."
Ali said firmly, "Sit down, Constance!" The girl was startled by Ali's tone. Her eyes widened as she quickly sat down again. "You're not going to get away with that, young lady! I hate mystery stories. Now what are you trying to hide?"
Ali saw the girl swallow hard but then looked her straight in the eye. "I didn't want you to know that I earned my way through school working as a stripper out on Sunset."
She was astounded at Ali's reaction — or rather, the lack of one. Ali looked at her as if she had told her the sun was shining. Ali asked, "Which club, Connie?" Connie told her and Ali brightened. "Good heavens! My daughter worked there. Do you know her? She danced as Jenny."
This time the girl's jaw dropped. "You're Jenny's mother! That's impossible! But..."
Ali picked up her telephone and called Bill to tell him she would be later than she expected. Then she went to the girl and took her to the sofa. The girl allowed herself to be led — she was moving as if in a daze. Ali looked at her and said, "Connie, how did you get away with it? Jen — her name is Jennifer Clifford, by the way — was recognized by a schoolmate after less than two months. How have you maintained your secret?"
The girl was just shaking her head in utter amazement. She pulled herself together with an effort of will. Looking into Ali's eyes she saw warmth, friendship, and genuine interest. She said, "I always wear a dark wig and contacts to change my eye color." She began to relax and her lips formed a small smile. "No one ever thinks of a law student as having a body. I started as a cocktail waitress when I was only seventeen. I had fake ID. Then I started working topless for more money, and finally moved up to being on stage. But Ali, you couldn't be Jenny's mother unless you gave birth at the age of five!"
Ali smiled and said, "You're right, of course. Jen's my husband's daughter. But Connie, I couldn't love her more if she were my own, and I'm convinced she loves me, too." She smiled warmly at the girl and said, "Another question: Why?"
Again the girl's head came up straight and she said, "Because I'm an orphan. My parents left me a little money, but that was all gone by my second year in college. Stripping pays well."
"One more question, Connie," Ali said, "And then I'll quit. Do you like men?"
"I beg your pardon!" the girl responded, obviously startled.
"I asked if you like men. Let me explain: I've heard some strippers are lesbians. They don't like men. The girls here all do, as you'll find out if you haven't already. Do you?"
The girl smiled warmly this time and said, "Hell, yes! And Ali, I say that in full realization of the fact that I've been as chaste as a nun for at least four years now — purely by necessity, not by choice. Between trying to study and working almost every night, if a guy got me into bed I would be asleep before I could even spread my legs! But it's been awful! There are times I want a man so badly I hurt. And being a stripper sure doesn't help!"
Ali smiled at the girl and on impulse leaned over, gathered her into her arms and hugged her. She said softly, "Connie, welcome to Clifford & Jamison!" She moved away and checked her watch. It was just four o'clock.
Then she picked up her phone and buzzed Kathy. "Get the troops into the conference room, order hors d'oeuvres, and tell Joan she has to keep her clothes on; we have company." She went back to where the girl was seated, winked, and said, "This is going to be educational, Connie. By the way, I'm having dinner with Jen tonight. May I tell her you'll be joining us?"
The girl smiled and said, "Please do. Tell her Cara sends her love. That is ... was ... my stage name." Suddenly, her face fell. "Oh, my God! I can't quit. At least, not now. Mrs. Clifford, I got carried away. If you've heard of a hand-to-mouth existence, I'm it. I can't quit until I start work, and I'm not sure I can even then."
The girl was sitting on the sofa. Ali pulled up a chair and said, "Why not tell me about it. First, how much are we going to be paying you?"
Connie reddened. "I don't know, Mrs. Clifford. You and I were supposed to talk about that."
It was Ali's turn to look embarrassed. "Wait until I get my hands on Sandy! She never mentioned a word of it to me." She smiled at the girl and asked, "Connie, what do you think would be fair?"
"Could ... Could you pay me $40,000? Or at least $35,000? Mrs. Clifford, I'll be honest. I intend to work here. What we're talking about is when — and whether — I can afford to quit my job. Could you make it $30,000, anyway?"
Ali got up and went behind her desk. She put on her fake reading glasses, got out the Firm checkbook — even though almost all of the company checks were computer produced — and made a big production of going over the books. She looked up at Connie who was watching her anxiously. "How much do you owe on your education loans?" Ali asked. Her tone of voice was flat, displaying no interest in the answer.
"Mrs. Clifford, that's the problem. When I graduate, I have to start paying them off. Right now I pay a little, but mostly they even capitalize the interest. I owe nearly $150,000 with the interest that's been capitalized."
Ali scribbled a check and tore it out of the book. She went back to where Connie was sitting and stood looking at her. "Connie, we can't afford to pay you more than $75,000 to start. I think that's roughly competitive with the other firms who are competing for the very top graduates."
The girl's jaw dropped as if she had been hit in the back of the head.
"And Connie, would you please take care of this for me? When I paid off Joan's loans, I was chasing all over the whole damned city trying to find some of those dumb banks. Here. You'll have to pay off your own silly loans!" She gave the girl a check for $150,000.
The girl looked at it, gasped, and suddenly started to cry. Ali sat down next to her and held her. The girl put her arms around Ali and hugged her, while the tears flowed down her cheeks. Finally, she pushed away. Ali saw that the girl was genuinely beautiful. In spite of the tears, there was a smile that lit up her face. Another sunshine smile, Ali thought.
Connie said, "Mrs. Clifford, thank you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you! You can't know..."
Ali smiled her sunshine smile. She said, "Connie, I can. The day I married Bill Clifford less than a year ago I was literally starving. I had less than ten bucks in the bank and owed about $50,000. But I didn't have a job and hadn't been able to get one. My parents are dead, too. Connie, that day, after my debts were paid I broke down and cried. Bill held me and comforted me. Believe me, I do know." She smiled warmly and said, "Connie, I hope you'll feel at home here."
Her smile turned into a grin as she added, "Welcome to the three-ring circus! Now come on! Let's join the others."
She took the girl to the conference room where the other girls were sitting around the table. The hors d'oeuvres were sitting in the middle of the table. As Ali entered, Joan turned to her and pouted. "Ali, you're no fair! Kathy said I couldn't wear my waitress uniform."
Ali turned to Connie and asked, "What will you have to drink? Incidentally, Joan's waitress uniform is a tiny white apron about the size of a postage stamp, net stockings, and spike heels — that's all. She's even shaved her pubic hair." Ali said, "Joan, I'll have a martini. Kathy, call Fred and have him pick me up at six, would you? Connie, what about it?"
The girl was just shaking her head in bewilderment, but said finally, "I like scotch."
Joan brightened and said, "At last! A class drinker in this sea of plebeians! Do you like single malts, Miss Foster?"
"I love them, Joan. But please call me Connie. Do you have any?"
Joan stiffened and pretended to be affronted. "I beg your pardon? Is the Pope Catholic? Do we, indeed! When I counted last, there were over twenty different brands. May I get you my favorite?"
The girl just shook her head in amazement and agreed. Joan poured her a Cardhu on the rocks. Connie tried a sip and said, "Joan, this is nectar! What is it?" Joan smiled and told her.
Ali stood up at the end of the table and said, "I want you all to welcome Connie Foster who will be joining us as an associate as soon as she graduates from University of Southern California Law School this spring. Connie has been supporting herself through school working as a stripper. In fact, she's working at the same club as Jen. She was concerned that we wouldn't hire her if we knew how she has been supporting herself. She doesn't know us very well, does she? Connie, you've been talking with my partners and associates. It's time you got to know them. It's still not too late to stay clear of this funny farm.
"First, there's my fellow name partner, Virginia Jamison Conrad. Ginger took the position that men only want women as depositories for their sexual fluids. They don't respect women for their brains. Connie, Ginger wore grungy brown contacts to hide her eyes — not just for dancing, the way you do. She dyed her hair a horrible mouse-brown, and even wore padding around her body to hide her figure. She came out of it and is now married to Charley Conrad, as you know. Poor Charley's perpetually exhausted these days. He claims he was trapped into marrying a nymphomaniac. I don't know if it's true, but it could be. Ginger?"
Ginger grinned, got out of her chair and did a deep curtsy — so deep she was almost sitting on her back foot. She had pulled her skirt up to her hips revealing her perfect tanned legs. She then bent her body forward so that her forehead touched her out thrust leg. "Welcome, mademoiselle!"
"Mrs. Conrad, I can't comment on what Mrs. Clifford said about you, but I do know I have never seen such muscle control or conditioning in my life! Your physical condition is marvelous!"
"Miss Foster, you haven't started here yet. There is one rule here that's ironclad. Kathy, would you bring in the training aid Ali told you to buy?" Kathy scampered out and came back with a coiled bull whip. She passed it to Ginger who said, "Miss Foster, this is a bull whip. It is to be used on slow learners. It's a compromise. Ali was going to replay The Texas Chain-Saw Massacre. It's to be used on anyone who calls her Mrs. Clifford, or me, Mrs. Conrad!" Ginger pretended to glare at the girl who started to giggle.
Ali turned to Sandy. "Connie, this is Sandy — formerly Sandra — Harris, soon to be Sandy Benson. Sandy worked downstairs in litigation. However, she was as prickly as a cactus about women's rights. After a weekend with Jack Benson, she's never been the same. Sandy?"
"Connie," Sandy said, "there's one minor thing Ali overlooked. It's how Ginger came out of her shell and how I joined the human race. I'll give you a hint: Her initials are Allison McGrath Clifford. The short answer is, we adore her."
Ali said, "These other turkeys are Kathy Carlson, Judy Jeffries, and Joan Fredrick. They provide what we laughingly refer to as support. Mostly, they sit around, drink coffee, and try to recover from the previous night's lovemaking. All except Joan ... until last night. Now she's gone, too. Previously, you could have gotten into a pool she runs. It's just as well, I guess. I found out awhile ago she uses her computer to cheat ... somehow. Anyway, girls, what do you say?"
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