The She-Hulk Diaries

by Acosta, Marta

  I have thought long and hard about telling D the truth about Shulky and me, but she’s safer not knowing my secrets. “My relationship with her is strictly business. All we talk is contract law. It’s as exciting as supermarket potato salad.”

  D gave me one of her skeptical huhs and then made me promise to come to dinner and watch a movie with her. I said yes, even though she only chooses movies based on historically significant hairstyles, like Shampoo and Love Story.

  As part of my wardrobe makeover, I went to Mood Fabrics. I wandered around hoping to spot my imaginary gay boyfriend, Tim Gunn, but no luck.

  A supercute clerk was very helpful, and after talking to me for a few minutes, he recommended iron-on tape that he said “looks as good as sewing to most people” and a variety pack of safety pins. He also gave me the name of a designer who specializes in what he called “breakaway costumes.” I guess that’s a technical term.

  Feel as if I’ve made important inroads in preparation to beginning my resolutions!

  JANUARY 5

  I called Holden’s office at 6:30 a.m. and he answered, “Goodman, Lieber, Kurtzberg, & Holliway. Holden Holliway here.”

  Holden never answers his own office line, and I was so shocked I blurted, “What are you doing answering the phone and so early?”

  “Jennifer, is that you? I haven’t left from last night. What are you doing calling this early?”

  “I was going to leave a message.” After an awkward pause, I said, “I’m applying for positions at other firms and I was wondering…”

  “You were wondering if I’d have a drink with you and we could discuss things.”

  Holden is a crafty bastard. “Yes, that’s exactly what I was wondering.”

  “Will you be coming or will your glamorous jade friend meet me?”

  It’s a relief to talk to one of the few people who knows both my identities and prefers me. “It will be me. I’d like to try to stay Jennifer more often this year.”

  “I can’t say that I mind. Shulky’s a real pistol, but at my age, I prefer a rubber chicken.” He named a bar I’d never heard of and said, “Seven p.m. Be there or be square!”

  Did that mean that Holden thought I was the rubber chicken?

  6:00 P.M.

  The weather was miserable and cold. I didn’t want to go out, especially since there was a Hoarders marathon on TV, but I put on a businessy-type pantsuit and yanked on waterproof boots. I was taking a chance because boots are always a problem if I have to shift.

  I schlepped to First Street, shivering against the sleet, and arrived at a grimy little dive. I peered in the window to make sure it was the right address and spotted Holden immediately since his snowy hair practically glowed in the murk. I stepped into the dark bar and hung my coat on the rack. There was a distinct pickled smell in the air, but I couldn’t tell if it was the ancient wooden floorboards or the patrons.

  Holden waved to me and I went back to his booth and slid in across from him. We did the handshake-and-hello thing, and when a brimming martini was set in front of me, he said, “Jennifer, come back to GLKH and work for me.”

  I’d just taken a sip of the martini, which tasted like paint stripper and Pine-Sol, and I started coughing. When I’d gotten my breath back, I said, “Absence makes the heart et cetera, Holden. I’d like to work at a more normal place for a while, where every case isn’t an end-of-the-world-type calamity.”

  “Come on, Jennifer—I’m going to establish a new specialty branch and you know you loved the excitement.”

  “It was fun pounding my fist on a table and challenging witnesses, but I’m trying to be more professional and resolve issues without things going ballistic.”

  “It’s nice to have good intentions, Jen,” he said, and then his expression grew more somber. “Did you hear the news that the latest clone twins died? It happened this afternoon, and they still had the balloons in their rooms from their second birthday party. Total organ failure.”

  We were quiet for a minute, and I said, “It’s cruel and unethical to keep growing them when they just die.”

  “We can’t ignore the inevitable. Clones will soon be as viable as the robot maid. Per usual, the law is far behind technology. Right now, cyborgs can’t even vote or marry.”

  “You know that I believe in full civil rights for alternative human entities, Holden.”

  “Yes, but it’s good to hear it again,” he said. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

  The voices at the bar got louder. Two burly men were shouting and shoving each other.

  I smiled at Holden and hoped I looked friendly, not panicky. “Actually, I wanted to make sure I could give your name as a reference since I left in such—Well, I understand that the final bill for damages was unexpected. However, I will point out that I won every one of my cases.”

  “My accounting team already gave me a big binder with the cost/expense breakdown to the penny, but I told them to recycle it. You’ll always be a valuable asset in my eyes.” A stool was thrown against the mirror over the bar and shattered glass crashed down. Holden glanced at the commotion and said, “They’re getting pretty noisy. Jen, do you mind?”

  I needed his job reference, so I said, “Of course not, sir.” I slipped off my jacket and went to the bar.

  One man was holding a beer bottle and the other was waving his hands and saying, “Come on! Come and try, asshole!” Each was drunk, angry, and solidly built.

  I cleared my throat and said, “Erm,” but they didn’t notice. I had to step close to them and speak louder. “Uhm, gentlemen, would you mind keeping it down a bit? It’s difficult for others to have a conversation.”

  One laughed and said, “Oooh, a conversation!” and the other one said, “Mind your own business, girlie!”

  If he’d said that to She-Hulk, she would have snatched him up and thrown him through the plate-glass window. “I really don’t want to interfere with your—” I started, but the bottle-man swung at the come-on man.

  I reached out and blocked the swing. One of them shouted, “Bitch!” because they always do, and tried to shove me with one of his germy hands, eww! I deflected the strike with an upward thrust of my forearm, which threw him off his balance. Then I jammed the butt of my palm directly into his solar plexus.

  I couldn’t enjoy watching him go “uh-uh-uh” and collapse backward because the come-on man screamed, “Whadidya do to my brother?” and charged me like a rhino.

  I took a step aside, hooking my foot around his ankle to trip him. As he stumbled, I gave a firm chop to the back of his neck and let gravity do the rest. He landed on top of his brother.

  By this time, the bartender had come forward with a Louisville slugger. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks, ma’am,” he said, and other customers came over to drag the brawlers out into the street.

  I took a deep breath and went back to the booth.

  “Jen, you’re as pale as a ghost!” Holden said.

  “He called me ma’am! Holden, am I really a ma’am?”

  He had the nerve to laugh, but I knew the truth: once a girl gets her first “ma’am,” her chances of ever getting an interesting, sexy, intelligent boyfriend are numbered. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock!

  As if things weren’t bad enough, Holden told me that the GLKH partners wanted to know when I planned to move out of the company loft. “I’d let you stay as long as you like, but as the premier firm specializing in superhuman law, our out-of-town and interplanetary guests have plenty of occasions to use a private elevator.”

  My heart skidded sideways as I thought fondly of the loft’s panoramic windows with bulletproof glass, the heated floor, the deep whirlpool bathtub, and the elevator that allowed me to sneak in and out. I thought of the friendly doormen and the proximity to both Dahlia’s salon and her longtime pet-sitting condo. “I really appreciate you letting me stay there.”

  “Frankly, I was hoping you or Shulky or the both of you would come back to GLKH and then we
could work the transfer of the property into your signing bonus.”

  “Holden, I thought you didn’t want Shulky working for you.”

  “Caught me. I don’t, but only because she prefers using her muscle even when she could resolve a situation more calmly with her impressive brain. I’d sure like you back, though.”

  “You know I loved working for you, but the cases at GLKH require 24/7 involvement. I want to participate in activities other than intergalactic negotiations. I want to have a life outside of my profession.”

  “I understand.” He patted my hand in that nice grandpa way of his. “There’s no rush. Take your time finding another place.”

  We chatted a while longer, but I couldn’t remember anything we talked about because I was FREAKING OUT. There are lots of things I don’t like doing (tax returns, walk-of-super-shame barefoot and in shredded clothes after a hulk-out, yearly performance reviews at the Mansion), and moving was right there at the top of the list.

  New priority resolution: find a new apartment as soon as I have a job and can pay deposits and rent.

  10:30 P.M.

  Extremely disturbed by Holden’s rubber chicken comment. Also perturbed by being called ma’am. Have I become an old lady rubber chicken? Shulky is annoyed with me trying to analyze this, and she’s grousing, which feels like someone is putting up drywall behind my eyes.

  INFECTIOUS INVALIDITY

  11:45 P.M.

  I have one month and nine days until the actual starting date for my resolutions. I picked up my aPhone and sorted through Shulky’s Tweets looking for invites. It’s not as if I have to get up early tomorrow, since I really don’t need to try to find a job just yet.

  Fergie wanted to know if She-Hulk wanted to hit a few clubs in the Meat Packing District. Dancing is exercise and listening to music is a cultural experience, and the Meat Packing District is an important historical location.

  JANUARY 6, 4:30 P.M.

  Still in my pajamas but only because I’ve been working very hard on my goals. Sent off letters to top five dream firms. Okay, since the whole point of this journal is for me to be honest with myself, let me amend that. I sent letters to the top five law firms that haven’t already told me to leave and not let the door hit my ass on the way out. Or to forget we ever met. Or that they can’t miss me if I won’t go away. There have been a lot of variations.

  Did a preliminary search on Craigslist for an apartment, but became distracted by vacation rentals. I’ve been to outer space, but never to Paris. What does that say about me? On my date romance hookup with Ellis Tesla, he’d invited me to join the band on their tour of France, and he said dirty things in French with that sexy smutty gravelly voice. Le sigh.

  It’s stupid to moon about a solitary weekend with him just because of the amazing sex and him singing to me and six-feet-five-inches of rock-solid flesh and brown-hazel eyes and conversations that were much too earnest for our brief acquaintance. Well, they were earnest for me, but he’s had a million girls and promised them all sorts of things.

  I must be doing something wrong romantically, because even Shulky’s managed to sustain long-term boyfriends. I’ve only had sincere relationships that got me exactly nowhere.

  I was about to add “Visit Paris” to my Valentine’s Day list, but I didn’t want to sabotage myself by getting overly ambitious. This way, if I do make it to Paris, I’ll score bonus points. Maybe I should assign different goals different weights because finding a fantastic boyfriend will be quantitatively more difficult than finding an apartment, once I have a good job.

  Do I want to ask D to help me create a calibrated grid? She’s very good at that, but probably not, because she’ll trap me in her flowchart, Venn diagram madness. Sometimes I regret ever encouraging her to take a statistics course.

  While I wait for a response to job inquiries, I’m watching public television. Instead of squandering time/money going out, I am becoming more cultured, one of my goals, while wearing my pajamas. Three Tenors = triple opera points. And they sing way better than Ellis Tesla.

  JANUARY 7

  VALENTINE’S DAY RESOLUTION

  COUNTDOWN: 1 MONTH AND 1 WEEK

  Inspired by makeover shows, I went through my closet and pulled out all the clothes I’d never worn and never will wear—jackets with sleeves too short for my long monkey arms, skirts that were too narrow for a roundhouse kick, and revealing dresses that Dahlia convinced me to buy. She doesn’t understand how high-powered attorneys are supposed to dress.

  Superheroes have a different dress code, too. Shulky’s PVC, Lycra, leather, sequined, and studded ensembles crammed the guest closets. She always dumps her clothes on the floor, expecting me to put away her thigh-high boots, spangled bikini bottoms, and chain-mail bras. One of her halter tops had something gross and sticky on it. I threw it away and scrubbed my hands with hot water and antibacterial soap.

  What advice would I give someone whose messy roommate often saved the world? I’d say, “If finding another roommate is not an option, request compensation for your additional household chores.” Well, that wouldn’t work. “If you have no alternatives, try to see the totality of the relationship and not fixate on individual tasks. Does your roommate provide other services that you are not taking into account?”

  Well, Shulky had hung the drapes and she always changed the light-bulbs without complaining. She kills scary spiders in the corners. She only eats out, so she never leaves dirty dishes. Frequently, she brings back bottles of expensive wine, which are useful as hostess gifts, and she always gets passes to movie previews. I didn’t feel so irked as I organized her collection of BeDazzled booty shorts.

  JANUARY 8

  Revised/updated CV so it’s ready to go if I get a response to my inquiries. Emailed it to Amy Stewart-Lee for her expert opinion. Ten minutes later Amy called me.

  “Jen, it’s so impressive! I sometimes forget all your accomplishments.”

  “People tend to remember the chaos,” I said. “Did you find any typos?”

  “No, but you might want to focus more on your Supreme Court win and not your extraterrestrial law because most firms want lawyers who’ll remain on terra firma. You should remove your martial arts expertise from ‘Other Interests.’ You don’t need to remind anyone of unfortunate courtroom incidents. Not that I blame you one bit. Lord knows, if I had your mad wrestling skills I’d constantly be putting opposing counsel in headlocks.”

  Amy gave me all the legal gossip from the DA’s office, and she said, “Look, I know you’ve got your online gaming and your real superhuman pals, but the Forestiers, my LARP team—you know what that is, right?”

  “Live-action role-playing. I’m actually cutting back on online games. I think I should have more RL interaction.”

  “What perfect timing! The Forestiers are having weekly meet-ups in preparation for our Mayfest battle games, and a few of our members moved away, so we’re recruiting. We’re an early Middle Ages team, based on Sherwood Forest legends. It would be great if you could come.”

  “Er…” I was trying to think of a way out.

  “Don’t er me, Jennifer Walters, Esquire! You always er before you let loose a scathing opposing argument. This is a way for normal people to enjoy creativity and questing in their lives. Knights and ladies, castles and magic, swords, costumes! We have scenarios and we practice fighting with weapons made of safety-approved materials.”

  I sighed and then hoped she couldn’t hear me over the phone. One of my resolutions was to try new things and meet new people. “I really like Sherwood Forest stories. Okay, send me the information. This is not a setup, is it?”

  “You are so weird about guys, in light of your adventurous dating history.”

  “I’m not adventurous. I met most boyfriends through jobs. Anyway, if it was a setup, that would be okay. I’m open to meeting new guys.”

  “That’s a change! Most of our team are in relationships, but there are always drop-ins. I can check for single guys at work
.”

  “None of your defendants, please. Allow me to clarify: I’m open to meeting new guys without a criminal history.”

  “Picky, picky! We charge so many elite perps, and if the bail is high enough, they’re usually in town for a Saturday night date. I wish we could hire you here, but we’re still getting claims from the time your client shot off lightning bolts in our conference room.”

  “That was definitely one of the downsides of working in the superhuman branch of Goodman, Lieber, Kurtzberg, & Holliway. Also, occasionally I got stuck in alternate dimensions.”

  “I hate when that happens. I’ll put you on the Forestiers newsletter list and tell our game master to email you info and schedules.”

  After we hung up, I checked out the Forestiers’ website and forum. I set about creating my own avatar and dubbed her LadyGreene.

  AFTERNOON

  Dragged myself to mandatory session with Dr. Rene Alvarado. It always strikes me as not funny that his brownstone is on West 4th, which was once called Asylum Street. He told me that, hardy har har, at my first session. He’d thought I’d ask for Kleenex and confess that I had some terrible dark secret and then he could write up my case in the Journal of Superhuman Psychiatric Disorders.

  I sat in one leather chair and he sat in another. He looked like an escapee from a hippie lovefest with his Birkenstocks and wooden prayer bead necklaces. His tight wavy hair was as jet-black as it was in old photos. I wondered if he’d stopped his aging process through magic.

  He was drinking a Joocey Jooce, which was so predictable, because he’d buy into their “Play nice!” marketing.

  We did that standoff thing, waiting for the other to speak, and I won. Our conversation was the usual “So, Jennifer, I would like you to take this opportunity to discuss anything that’s on your mind,” and “Thank you, Dr. Alvarado, and please call me Ms. Walters,” because I know about negotiating.