Queens Don't || #ONC2022

8 || QUEENS DON'T MENTION REVERSE HAREMS

Our outburst led Mr. Ament to grimace with disapproval, Mr. Novak to sneer with superiority, two attorneys to gasp in surprise, and the only female colleague to duck her head to hide her smile.

Should've made her take the lead, jackass, I thought sourly. I highly doubt we'd be at this stupid impasse.

"Ms. Copeland. Ms. Cooper," the senior attorney said, clearing his throat and running a hand nervously through his thick fluff of white hair. "It's that sort of response we want you to avoid when meeting with other dignitaries and high-ranking officials."

"And none of you are neither," Phil said shortly, tossing her dark hair behind her shoulders. "So, our response was completely appropriate considering the patronizing and contemptuous tone you've been using since the moment you met us."

"I may be a single, unemployed woman, but I'm not an idiot," I added harshly, with a whole bunch of "girl power" attitude. "I'd like to believe I'm a well mannered and polite person, but you should never, never underestimate the power of a woman, gentlemen."

"While we understand your sentiments," Mr. Novak said, steepling his fingers. "We have every right to proceed with the necessary precautions with someone with your record."

"My record?" I exclaimed, knowing my eyes widened in surprise and confusion.

I had no criminal record. I wasn't even arrested during the many rallies I attended when I was in college. I managed to flirt my way out of any speeding ticket – even written warnings.

"And considering how you obtained the sword in the first place also adds to our list of concerns regarding your ability to properly and appropriately represent our country," another fifty-something attorney threw in, glancing at a thin black binder of papers.

"Thank you, Dennis," Mr. Ament acknowledged, with a victorious smile. "It's not a secret you and Ms. Cooper were highly inebriated that night."

"Having a few drinks isn't a crime," Phil bit out evenly, cracking her knuckles.

Hostility and discontentment radiated readily from tense but poised posture.

"No, it's not," Dennis the Nag agreed, "but her past records show her judgment is severely impaired when highly intoxicated."

What. The. Hell? Did the folder in front of the beefy middle-aged lawyer with one too many rings on his pudgy fingers list all the instances I had been drunk? Because I had an issue with that for three reasons.

One, the stack of papers should be much thicker because I fully embraced my dad's advice "to have fun" when I was in college – and maybe a few years after earning my degree. Two, keeping a hard copy of my personal social life – public or not – was just plain creepy.

Three, was my amazing social life the best they had on me? Was I supposed to be embarrassed about being a handsy drunk or a terrible karaoke singer? Did they believe this was leverage?

"I'm pretty sure anyone's judgment is impaired after having one too many whiskey shots," Phil shot back, specifically glaring at Mr. Novak who suddenly appeared uncomfortable and thought the key to winning this argument was written somewhere on the table.

"There's photographic evidence of Ms. Copeland engaging inappropriately with a male entertainer at a social event," Dennis countered.

Male entertainer? Social event? Oh, the super hot stripper at Michelle Powell's bachelorette party a few years ago.

A small snicker escaped and a wide smile crossed my face at the memory of that wild and crazy night that resulted in one of the bridesmaids getting married to a DJ we had met at one of the clubs.