by Erin Lyon
Logek paused. Based on what she’d told him, logically, it would make a difference. But the fact that he’d proven once again that he’s clueless when he’s doing shitty things was at odds with her sense of self-preservation. “I feel like we have bigger problems than Hannah at this point.”
Derek stood motionless, waiting to see if she’d give in. She wouldn’t. You go, girl.
Eventually, Derek gave a slight nod and leaned in, gave Logek a tight, unreciprocated hug, and headed out the door.
When the door closed behind him, Logek whispered, “I did the right thing.”
“You did the right thing,” I echoed.
“One way or another, he was going to keep hurting me.”
“He was.”
“And love isn’t supposed to be this hard.”
“It isn’t.”
Logek turned her tearstained face to me and quirked her mouth into a half smile. “You’re my favorite parrot.”
I laughed. “Yeah, well Polly needs a drink.”
“Amen.”
We headed back into her bedroom, where we’d left our wineglasses, and settled onto the bed once more, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. She sighed. And drank. Wiped away more tears and muttered “Fuck” a few more times.
We sipped our wine and looked at each other blankly. Logek snapped her fingers suddenly and leaned over the side of the bed. When she sat up straight again she was holding a behemoth box of condoms. “Here. Take these with you when you go. In case I have any moments of weakness.”
I held the box of Trojans between my hands. “Where exactly does one purchase a box of condoms this big?” I asked with a smile.
“Costco.”
“Good to know.”
“Not sure they carry the Magnum, though, if that’s what you might need…” She trailed off with an eyebrow raised.
I laughed. “I appreciate your confidence in me, but I don’t need anything in any size right now.”
She shrugged. “Good. Make ’em earn it.”
“Oh,” I said. “Mags offered to break Derek’s kneecaps if you want.”
Logek smiled. “Where has she been all our lives?”
“Right?” I glanced at the box of condoms. “You know, just because you won’t be having sex with Derek doesn’t mean you won’t … eventually … be having sex with someone.”
Logek appeared to consider that. “You’re right. I better hang on to them.”
We took another sip from our glasses, but Logek’s mind was clearly falling back into the Derek abyss, since she started wiping her eyes and sniffing again.
“Oh!” I said, startling her out of her misery. “I forgot to tell you. I ran into Matt Taylor.”
She frowned. “High school Matt Taylor?”
“Yep.”
“What’s he doing?”
“About three to five for possession with intent to distribute.”
Logek laughed just as she’d taken a drink of wine, so she quickly covered her mouth with her hand. She fanned her face a little, trying to swallow without spitting wine all over me. “Oh my god. You saw him in court, I take it?”
I nodded, smiling. “And then, because I apparently pissed off God somehow, I saw James Harris in court today.”
Logek laughed and shook her head. “Was he there on felony charges, too?”
“No, he actually looked great but apparently is still an asshole after all these years. Point is, both of them outed me to the judge, so I’m pretty sure that judge now thinks I was a call girl in my former life or something.”
Logek shrugged. “Well, law school is expensive.”
CHAPTER 9
When I got into the office the next morning, I swung by Mags’s desk. She was wearing a sleeveless black turtleneck with tight black slacks. I was about to ask if she was moonlighting as a cat burglar, when she looked up at me with a smile and picked up a Louisville Slugger she had resting against her cubicle wall. Oh—clearly she’s dressed for a little assault and battery.
I laughed and shook my head at her. “Have I mentioned that you are one of my favorite people?”
“Not today, but it’s early.”
“I did extend your very kind offer to Logek, but I don’t think she’s mustered up quite enough anger to wish him bodily harm.”
“Oh well. One of these days, buddy,” Mags said to her baseball bat, then rested it back in the corner. “How’s she doing?” Mags asked, turning to me again.
“Taking her broken heart like a champ.”
“She seems like the type that would. I got a call first thing this morning on a referral for you.”
“For me? Who referred them?”
“The guy whose partner claimed she only cheated after she found out about his DUI.”
“Jim Trainor?”
Mags nodded. My excitement fizzled. “He’s kind of an asshole. Not sure I really want to be on his friends-and-family plan.”
“But it’s your first client that you brought in. Just by being a badass.”
I smiled. “Jim’s ex did call me a bitch at the end of her depo.”
“Exactly. Badass.”
“Okay, then. Maybe birds of a feather don’t always flock together. What’s the situation?”
Mags bit her lip. Crap. “Well, apparently Scarlett and her ex-partner Rhett—”
I cut her off, waving my hands in front of my face. “You’re making this up.”
“Kate. You can’t make this up.”
“Scarlett O’Hara?”
“Now you’re just being silly. Scarlett Blutofsky…”
“Lovely.”
“I thought so. Was signed to Rhett Cadavetti…”
“Good Italian name.”
“Precisely. And while they were signed, they owned two neighboring parcels. They lived in one and rented out the one next door. A few years in, they both breached, fireworks, et cetera, and they ended up ousting their tenant and each taking one of the parcels in their settlement.”
“What could possibly go wrong?”
“Right? And yet, as it turns out, everything,” Mags said with a severe expression. “They have temporary restraining orders against each other and the hearing on the actual orders is being heard this afternoon.”
I turned a blank expression to her. “This afternoon?” I asked.
Mags nodded.
“Do signing attorneys usually handle this kind of thing?” I asked.
“More often than you’d think.”
I sighed. “So which one is mine?”
“Blutofsky.”
“Awesome.”
“She’ll be here in an hour.”
I thrust my fist into the air, giving my best yay gesture, and walked into my office.
Before I’d finished reading through my new emails, my phone buzzed.
“Beth Erickson calling regarding Lewis–Hamilton,” Mags said.
“Thanks,” I said. I’d made a call to Beth after Dot had told me she was willing to trade the grandfather clock for Elvis. I could hear the distrust in Beth’s voice, feeling like it had been a trick somehow. I sort of agreed with her.
I picked up my phone as soon as it rang. “Hi, Beth.”
“Hi, Kate.”
“So, how’d we do?”
“Better than expected, actually. I’d half expected Daryl to explode when I conveyed the offer, waiting for him to tell me that the clock had been a gift to her from a previous partner or something.”
“You weren’t alone on that.”
“Turns out, he does want the clock.”
“Good. That’s good, right?”
“No, it’s good. It’s apparently his family heirloom that she had her movers take from the house when he was away.”
“Oops.”
Beth laughed. “Yeah. Big oops. He said ‘if that bleepity bleeping thief wants to trade his own bleeping clock back to him,’ he’ll take it.”
“Your ears must have been burning.”
“Practice. I know
to keep the phone at least three inches from my ear.”
“So that’s it? The clock for Elvis?”
Beth made a cynical laugh. Naturally. “Of course not. He wants the clock and a twenty-five percent reduction in the damages payment.”
I flipped through my file quickly, looking for what the damages were calculated to be, and whistled when I found the figure. “That’s a lot of money.”
“Tell me about it.”
“So I guess I can tell Dot she can either accept the reduction and get Elvis back or she can keep the money and buy herself a million new guinea pigs to replace him.”
“More or less.”
“Did I mention she also said she’d take his Maserati?”
Beth laughed. “I’m sure she would. I have a feeling you’d miss the rat a lot less driving around in that car.”
“Guinea pig,” I said, before I could stop myself.
“Kate.”
“Right. Whatever. Okay. I guess I’ll take this back to Dot and get back to you.”
“My advice? Do it over the phone. And keep the phone at least three inches from your ear.”
“Sound advice. Talk to you soon.”
I looked at my clock and figured I had time to call Dot about the new settlement offer before my next appointment. Yippee.
Dot picked up after a couple of rings. “Dot Hamilton.”
“Hello, Dot. This is Kate Shaw.”
“Hi, Kate.”
“Well, I took your offer of the grandfather clock to Daryl’s attorney.”
“I think I changed my mind about that.”
Is she effing kidding me? Okay. Breathe. “Dot, you can’t authorize me to make settlement offers and then just change your mind. It undermines the whole settlement effort.”
She sighed. “Fine. Did the ass accept it?”
“Not exactly.”
Dot made a dry, cynical chuckle. “I’m surprised, after how much he’s whined about that stupid clock.”
“Well, he sort of said it was his anyway, so I think he felt like it was more of a dig, you offering it back in exchange for Elvis.”
“Too bad.”
“So what he did say was that he would give you Elvis for the grandfather clock…” Just spit it out fast, Kate. “And a twenty-five percent reduction in the damage amount.”
Now Dot’s laugh was lyrical. And way more disconcerting than the dry, bitter one.
“So he wants me to pay him a million dollars to get back an animal that already belongs to me?” Her voice rose an octave with every couple words, until she was shrill and practically screeching by the end.
“I understand. But, Dot. This is your life. Do you really want to spend years … the rest of Elvis’s life … fighting over this settlement?”
“Are you actually suggesting, as my attorney, that I give up a million dollars to get a guinea pig?”
Oh, hell no. And not just because I’m pretty sure she was trying to trap me. “No, no, no. Of course not. I’m just saying, it seems like deep down you must know what it will take to settle this. I just hate to see someone wasting their life fighting instead of finding an agreement they can live with and moving on.”
“I really like Elvis,” she said quietly, and for the first time, I actually felt bad for the shrew.
“Dot, have you thought about a dating site? Maybe you just need something to help you move past Daryl.”
“The problem is that Daryl was such an ass, I just don’t feel like men, in general, are worth it.”
“Yeah. I get that. But who knows? You might have some fun by accident.”
Dot actually laughed a little at that. “I’ll give it some thought. Both suggestions.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Besides, it would piss Daryl off to no end if I started seeing other men.”
Good talk. Kate Shaw: changing lives for the better.
After hanging up with Dot, I really didn’t have time to read Mags’s notes about Scarlett before she showed up. Rita from reception buzzed my phone and informed me that she was putting Scarlett into conference room 2 for me.
I picked up my pad of paper and pen, mustered up an unenthusiastic smile, and headed down the hall.
When I got into the room, Scarlett was sitting at the conference table, frowning at the legal services contract Rita typically gives them to review while waiting for the attorney.
When she heard me come through the door, she looked up at me.
“Hi, Scarlett. I’m Kate Shaw.”
“Scarlett Blutofsky. Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking my hand. Scarlett had big, frizzy auburn hair and was dressed in floral print capri pants and a sleeveless pink shirt. She looked to be about midforties, but she seemed like the type that might just look older from years of hard living. Her face had a leather quality to the skin, like she’s a sun worshipper, and she had a smudge of pink lipstick on her front tooth. Which I was going to do my damnedest to not stare at. Don’t stare.
“So, Scarlett, I haven’t really had time to review my assistant’s notes, so why don’t you just tell me what’s going on.”
She nodded and let out a big dramatic sigh. “Well, it started small, with Rhett just stealing shit off my porch when it got delivered by UPS. Then he started cutting down my rosebushes. Then he was letting his dog shit on my front lawn. So I put up security cameras so I would have proof enough to have him arrested. I have him on camera flipping me off.”
“Flipping you off? Or the camera?”
“Well, he did it to the camera, knowing I’d be watching.”
“Not really illegal.”
She frowned at me.
“Please. Continue.”
“So, I got these pink flamingoes on my lawn.” Totally not surprised. “And he kept claiming they were on his property. But they weren’t. Anyway, I came out and all their heads were missing.”
I almost laughed, but luckily stifled it at the last moment so it came out sounding more like an indignant grunt. She approved. “Right? He’s such a dirtbag. I watched the video and saw him lopping their heads off with pruning shears. What’s to stop him from doing the same to me?”
I frowned. “Well, I don’t think decapitating plastic lawn decorations rises to the level of a threat on your life.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Necessarily,” I added. “Why don’t you tell me what else he’s done that led to your request for the restraining order.”
“He’s pressed his bare ass to his window.”
“Which window?”
“His bedroom window.”
“How did you happen to see that?”
“I caught it on camera.”
“You probably shouldn’t have a security camera pointed into his bedroom. The judge may frown on that.”
“Well, I gotta know what he’s up to,” she whined. “My life could depend on it.”
“But he could be acting out because you’re invading his privacy.”
“I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”
“I am, but I just want you to understand what the judge will think of the situation, this afternoon in court.”
“But he’s pushed me. I had to call nine-one-one.”
“What happened?”
“I was putting my garbage at the curb, and he always says it’s over the property line and is actually on his property and that he has trouble pulling in to his driveway. So, to be an ass, he moves it to where it’s in front of my driveway, so that I have to move it when I get home.”
“Well, is it on his side?”
“Barely. Anyway, so last week, I got home and had to get out of my car to move the garbage can, and as I was rolling it back to where it was, he came running out of his house. Clearly he’d been watching for me. So he grabs the garbage can and tries to pull it away from me. We wrestle over it a few minutes and he finally comes around and shoves me, calling me a crazy bitch and stuff. So I went and called nine-one-one.”
“Did they arrest him?”
�
�Well, no. On account of us each saying it was the other one that shoved and neither of us having any marks.”
“Well, did you shove him?”
“Not that I remember. But I was scared. Anyway, the cop said I should get a restraining order, so I wrote up the application and had my sister serve it on him.”
“When were you served with his application?”
“Two days later. He totally just did it to get back at me.”
“Do you have a copy of his application?”
Scarlett opened an ancient green Trapper Keeper folder she had in front of her and rifled through some papers.
“Here it is. It’s all lies.” Of course it is. I’m sure you’re 100 percent innocent in this.
I scanned down his application looking at his allegations. Blocking his driveway with her garbage can. Placing ugly lawn ornaments on his yard. Angling a security camera in through his bedroom window. Egging his front door. Defecating on his porch.
What the hell? My stomach turned a little at the mere thought of that one.
“Um, Scarlett. This says you defecated on his porch.”
“What’s ‘defecated’?”
“Uh, basically he’s saying you … pooped … on his porch.”
“Oh. Well, I’d had a few beers and I was pissed about finding dog shit on my lawn for the fifth time that week. I guess I shouldn’t have, but he pissed me off.”
I stared at her with my mouth hanging open. I was doing everything humanly possible to not picture this chain of events, but I was failing. The image of Scarlett, her floral capris around her ankles, squatting to relieve herself on Rhett’s front porch, was burned into my brain for eternity. Awesome. I shook my head and returned to Rhett’s application in my hand.
Chased him into his house with a knife. Attacked him while moving her garbage can out of his driveway. Threatened to kill him if he ever brought a woman home.
“Scarlett,” I said, looking up at her severely. “This has some very serious accusations. This makes me think he has a decent chance of getting his restraining order granted. If he gets his restraining order, it will likely be in place for three years, and you won’t be allowed to keep or own any guns. Do you own guns?”
“I’m an American, ain’t I?” Oh, dear god.
“Well, if this gets granted,” I said, holding up the papers in my hand, “you’ll be forced to get rid of them all.”