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I fold over laughing and then reach over to turn up the music.

Miles

I just gotthe promotion I’ve been working towards for the past ten years, followed by the verbal ass-whooping of the century. Did I bluff a client into signing something I needed? Sure. But that's not illegal; I might toe the line sometimes, but I never cross it. It’s one of the things that’s made me one of the best lawyers in San Francisco. I get shit done that needs to be done and this time was no different. Unfortunately for me, my managing partner, Samantha, doesn't always agree with my tactics.

The sun is at its highest peak in the sky as I look out my corner office window. The city below is bustling. The people on the streets look no bigger than ants from all the way up here. My office is quiet save for the clock ticking on the desk behind me. But my quiet time is quickly interrupted. I can smell my annoying, cocky friend before he even says anything.

“Dude. Name partner? When were you going to tell me?” Jonas practically shouts from behind me.

“Close the door, and sit down.” I swivel my chair around, one arm hanging on the back, the other resting under mychin. “It’s not official until Monday, but I got word last night.”

“Son of a bitch.” He shakes his head with a wide grin.

“Yeah, but Samantha found out about how I bluffed Rick on the Davenport case and she just tore me a new asshole.” I open my laptop with a raised brow.

“Well good, your old asshole was getting disgusting.”

I wad up a piece of paper and throw it at him. He deflects it with ease, laughing and running a hand through his perfectly styled dark blonde hair.

Jonas doesn't get called a pretty boy for no reason. He might be as tall as me, and he can throw a punch in the ring, but our comparisons end there.

He’s about as friendly as they come, so it was a shock to everyone when we became fast friends in college. Our differences only presented themselves further when we both applied to the same law school. Jonas was practically a shoo-in for Stanford with both his parents being alumni. His father was still teaching there and his mother was a board member. I, on the other hand, had a retired Major League Baseball player for a father whom I hadn’t talked to in years, and a sick mom.

I was desperate to get out. Desperate to make a better life for myself so I could take care of my mom. I’ve always believed I was the best at everything and that there was nothing I couldn’t do. When I had a goal in mind, I not only reached it, but I fucking obliterated it. I proved that to myself when I got into Stanford. But that’s when I started to spiral. I took my anger out on Jonas at the time, and I might still be the same grumpy asshole I was back then, but I’ll never not be grateful to Jonas and how he helped me during that time.

“Okay, on a serious note, congratulations, Miles. This is fuckinghuge.” He leans back into the leather couch, crossingan ankle over his leg. “You might not be the most approachable guy here but you’re a winner and you never fail to get the shit done.”

I know he means well and he’s right, I have worked hard for everything I have, but I’ve had to. But beneath a thick slab of skin, I feel a tiny prick of guilt at his words because I also know he believes he has everythinghehas because of his good looks, and his parents' influence.

“Thank you.” I meet my friend's eyes, and we exchange a nod. “Now I just have to play it cool for a while, let Samantha calm down so she doesn’t change her mind before it’s announced.”

“Sam’s no joke. Her bite matches the bark and then some, but she would be…” he pauses leaning over the arm of the couch to look out the glass doors, making sure no one is around before whispering, “an idiot, to change her mind.”

I hang my head back on my chair and spin around to face the window.

“Plus, you’ve been doing the same shit the last ten years. It’s not like she doesn’t know how you operate by now, it’s what makes you the best.”

“Yeah, she’ll get over it.” I clear my throat, shaking the mental fog. “I think I just need to blow off some steam.”

Jonas puffs out a long breath, the sound of the clock ticking fills the room again followed by his fingers tapping against the leather couch. I spin around once more and I’m met with a shit-eating grin spread across his face and I know exactly what he’s thinking because it’s the same thing he suggests anytime either one of us has any minor inconvenience.

Shaking my head, I lean forward on my desk and point my finger at him. “Don’t even say it.”

His smile drops and he purses his lips together whilenodding his head, looking around the room. Just as I sit back in my chair, like an uncontrollable child he shouts, “Vegas?”

“What part of‘I need to keep my shit together’did you not understand?”

“So we’ll just go till Sunday instead of Tuesday.” He drums his hands on the coffee table before jumping up and heading to the door.

“Jonas!”

One hand is already on the door, his phone in the other, he doesn't even look over his shoulder as he says, “I’m texting Lola to have the jet ready for us by nine.”

“Jonas!” I bark again.

“Relax, dude. We’ll have a chill night, nothing wild, a few strippers and some blow. Child’s play.” He shrugs. I know he’s joking but there’s no talking him out of it once I’m left staring at his backside as he walks down the hall. He passes the giant metal letters mounted to the wall: Smith & Mitchell. I’m reminded of my unofficial accomplishment. And as long as I don’t do anything to fuck it up, next week that wall will shine with Smith, Mitchell, and Cameron.

Jonas