The morning air in New York was crisp, carrying the smell of exhaust and hope. Mike stood on the sidewalk, one hand on his beat-up bicycle, and just looked up. And up. The Saint Pearson Hardman building was a spear of glass and steel, piercing the sky.
He took a deep, shaky breath, a grin spreading across his face. This was it.
Inside, the lobby was a cathedral of money. People in thousand-dollar suits moved with a purpose he desperately tried to mimic. He got in the elevator, his heart hammering against his ribs all the way to the top.
The doors slid open to a different world—a hive of quiet intensity and expensive perfume. A young woman with sharp, intelligent eyes was waiting, a file folder tucked under her arm.
"Mike Ross?" she said. "I'm Rachel Zane. I'll be showing you around."
She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. As she started walking, talking about copy rooms and supply closets, he couldn't help but stare. He was only half-listening, too captivated by the way she carried herself.
"…and this is the bullpen, where most of the junior associates—"
"—get their start," Mike finished, snapping out of it. He looked around. "The cubicles are arranged in a hierarchical grid, proximity to the corner offices indicating seniority. The ambient noise is a mix of hushed phone calls and keyboard clicks, about 65 decibels, which suggests a high-stress, focus-intensive environment."
Rachel stopped and turned, her eyebrows raised. "You were listening."
"I listen," Mike said with a small shrug. "I just look like I'm not."
A slow, appreciative smile touched her lips. It was the first crack in her professional armor. He saw it and leaned in, his own smile turning playful.
"So, Rachel, maybe after this you could—"
"No," she cut him off, the smile gone, replaced by a weary understanding. "Let's save us both the time. You're a new associate. I'm a paralegal. I know how this goes. You think it's a cute story to tell your friends. It's not for me."
Before Mike could form a response, a familiar voice cut through the air.
"Stop bothering my staff, Mike. We don't pay you to flirt."
Harvey Specter stood there, looking like he owned every molecule of air in the room. He gestured with his head. "My office. Now."
Mike shot an apologetic glance at Rachel, who had already turned back to her work, and followed Harvey.
Harvey's office was as imposing as the man. He didn't sit down. He picked up a thin file from his desk and tossed it to Mike.
"Pro bono case. Tenant dispute. Landlord's trying to illegally evict a family. Should be simple, even for you. Don't mess it up."
Mike fumbled with the file. "Right. Got it."
"Listen," Harvey said, his tone dropping, becoming serious. "You need to know the lay of the land. The managing partner is Jessica Pearson. She's sharp, she's tough, and she doesn't suffer fools. You see her, you be polite, you be professional. You don't speak unless spoken to. Understood?"
Mike nodded quickly. "Jessica Pearson. Got it."
"Then there's the other name on the door," Harvey said, walking to his window. He looked up, as if he could see through the ceilings. "Franklin Saint."
The way he said the name was different. There was a weight to it.
"He's the youngest name partner in history. And he's… different." Harvey glanced back at Mike. "He's arrogant, obnoxiously smart, and he makes me look like a people person."
"Is he a problem?" Mike asked.
"A problem?" Harvey almost laughed. "No. He's a fact. Like gravity. You don't get jealous of gravity, you just learn to operate within it. He's the best litigator I've ever seen. A mind like a steel trap. Total recall."
Mike felt a strange jolt at the words 'total recall,' but said nothing.
"He respects the law, pure and simple. He doesn't care about politics or feelings. So you stay out of his way, you do your work, and you'll be fine." Harvey turned fully now, fixing Mike with a stare. "But the moment you step into this building, you are in his world. Don't ever forget that."
Harvey picked up his own, much thicker file. "Now get out. I have real work to do. And that," he added, pointing at the pro bono file in Mike's hands, "is your first and only test. Don't bring me a problem. Bring me a solution."
Mike clutched the pro bono file, turning to leave Harvey's office. He barely got two steps before the door swung open and Louis Litt marched in, his posture as tight and wound-up as his signature perfectly knotted tie.
Louis stopped short, his eyes narrowing as they landed on Mike. He looked him up and down with a scrutinizing glare. "Well, well. The new associate. Enjoying your position already, are we?" His voice was a blend of suspicion and barely-concealed envy.
"Louis," Harvey said, his tone flat. "Mike, get out."
Mike didn't need to be told twice. He slipped past Louis with a quick nod, the door clicking shut behind him.
Louis turned his full attention to Harvey, his hands fluttering nervously. "Harvey. I need your help."
Harvey sat on the edge of his desk, not offering Louis a seat. "Let me guess. This is about Franklin. You want him to back you for senior partner."
"It's not just about backing me!" Louis protested, his voice rising an octave. "It's about… access. The man is an island. A very tall, very white-haired, infuriating island. I try to discuss strategy, and he looks at me like I'm a speck of dust on his thousand-dollar shoes. He makes me feel… small."
Harvey didn't even blink. "That's because you are small, Louis. Next to him, most people are."
Louis flinched, but pressed on, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "That's why I need you to talk to him! You two have that… whatever it is. A understanding. He listens to you. Just put in a good word. Tell him I'm capable. Tell him I handle all the financials, that I'm the backbone of this firm!"
Harvey let out a short, tired breath. "Louis, look at me. Do I look like your career counselor? I have actual, billable work to do. If you want Saint's approval, go talk to Jessica. Or better yet, gather whatever shred of dignity you have and go talk to him directly. But I can't help you there."
Louis's shoulders slumped in defeat. "But Harvey—"
"The answer is no, Louis." Harvey stood up, effectively ending the conversation. He picked up a file from his desk and opened it, his attention already elsewhere. "Close the door on your way out."
Louis stood for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, before he finally turned and trudged out of the office, pulling the door shut with a quiet, defeated click.