The She-Hulk Diaries

by Acosta, Marta

  I ordered wholesale lots of panty hose in nude, matte sheer, sheer satin, opaque, and patterns for fun. The only good advice Tony Stark ever gave me was “Spare no expense on those incredible legs, baby.”

  I’m counting the suits and stockings as 75 points, so my score this week is already 500 + 50 + 75 = 625. It’s only sensible to allow myself to carry over extra points since I can’t be expected to get a new job every week. If my total goal is 5200 points/year, then I only have to accrue 4575 more points for my resolutions to be a success!

  Back to the topic of attire: I really want stylish boots that I can wear to work and wear out. Tony was always talking about how sexy the other girls at the Mansion looked in their boots. I will make stealthy inquiries about modified leather that can expand to fit She-Hulk’s big old feet. If I figure that out, I’d give myself 200 points. Or 300 even, because boots are important.

  I don’t know what category to put Claude in because he’s not job-related or cultural, but he is a man and Dahlia would say he qualifies as a romance interest, at least chromosomally.

  I went down to talk to my doorman/PFLOML, during his break in the little office behind the lobby. I’d figured out that the crux of his tax problem was nonpayment on a rental property in Queens. I told him that and mentioned that he’d also missed significant deductions.

  My PFLOML scratched his head and gave me the following info:

  The building had been his uncle’s welding shop.

  The current tenant worked for Joocey Jooce, which explained the coupons.

  Claude was not a Joocey Jooce aficionado because citrus gave him acid reflux, but he did enjoy a warm glass of milk before bed.

  Said tenant was named Adam, might be foreign, didn’t have a phone number or a last name, and had done electrical and plumbing upgrades in lieu of rent.

  Adam was a “heck of a nice guy” and “a little funny if you know what I mean,” accompanied by a circular movement of Claude’s forefinger near his temple.

  The “heck of a nice guy” had secured the property with guard dogs and a fence topped with concertina wire.

  No lease agreement had been signed.

  Trust and generosity are traits I want in a future husband, but I thought Claude was carrying things too far, because he said, “A man is only as good as his word. Adam and me shook and agreed that when he did better, I’d raise the rent to something fair.”

  I was beginning to doubt that Claude and I had a passionate future together (especially since he told me that he’d just celebrated his fortieth anniversary), but I told him that I would try to resolve the nonpayment of rent.

  I tracked down the contact info for Joocey Jooce’s CEO and CFO and fired off an email. I was able to draw upon my vast experience with eviction notices to make it sound impressive.

  11:45 P.M.

  My job celebration dinner was French dip sandwiches with Dahlia at a new gastropub on DeKalb, and we went to the lounge next door for drinks. I didn’t comment when Dahlia, who is a vodka drinker, ordered a gin gimlet. Instead, I sipped my basil margarita and talked about QUIRC and apartment hunting.

  On her second drink, D said, “You were the big Fringe Theory fan, not me, so I never paid too much attention to their songs. I looked up their discography and found many, many songs with references to gin.”

  “It’s an easy rhyme.”

  “Especially with sin.” Dahlia took out her phone. “What’s Tony Stark’s phone number?”

  “That is a high-security number. I am not authorized to release it.” She glared at me with those scary turquoise contacts, and I caved and told her. “You can’t call him! What are you going to say?”

  She sucked in her cheeks and after a moment told me, “Eetz ringing. Here is hiz message,” and then she pitched her voice higher and said, “Toneeee, zees eez Claudette. You must dream of how we had ze most spendid ooh, la la. I am missing ze, how you say, ze cycle and you are ze papa! Alors, I ham talking to my attorneez today. You weell be zo happy with le famileee, Toneee! Sink of a name. Je adore Hasselhoff. Hasselhoff Stark!”

  I was laughing so hard that my margarita went up my nose, which Dahlia thought was hilarious. Finally, I said, “It won’t work. He’ll never believe it because…” But how do you tell someone your genius ex-boyfriend invented microscopic nanobots to retrieve wayward sperm? You don’t.

  11:30 P.M.

  I really didn’t want to go all the way out to Queens, but I was feeling protective about my trusting PFLOML. Some unnamed superhero, whose name might rhyme with Baloney Snark, always took advantage of the transportation services offered by our organization even when he already had drivers, aircraft, jetpacks that didn’t burn your butt, etc. He used to say, “Take care of the pennies and the multibillions will take care of themselves.” People always laughed the same way they do when Shulky jokes. If you’re rich or powerful, everyone assumes you’re incredibly witty, too.

  I don’t exploit the system, so I had to take the tedious slow route of a train, a bus, and a long walk. The industrial neighborhood was eerily quiet.

  Claude’s property was at the end of a block. A chain-link fence surrounded a two-story brick building with an office on one side and an empty parking lot. The building had a roll-down metal gate with a faded sign reading VINCE’S WELDING. Yellowed venetian blinds covered the windows.

  A heavy chain and lock secured the gate. I rang the buzzer a few times and waited. No one answered. I rang again and waited. There was one security camera, aimed toward the office door.

  I circled the perimeter of the property, casually looking for signs of life and more surveillance equipment. The rear roll-up gate was shut, too, but as I approached, a pack of massive mutts burst out from a dog door and began snarling and lunging at the fence.

  Foam drooled from their gaping jaws, and their dark eyes shone in the night. Looking at them reminded me of how I yearned for a real dog—something non-Rodneyish—but pets needed a place with a yard and an owner with regular hours. D couldn’t dog-sit for me because Rodney didn’t play well with others.

  The whole setup seemed peculiar. Why would an employee of a juice company need so much security and such an out-of-the-way location?

  I felt that I had done due diligence. Shulky could figure it out another time, so I went home.

  JANUARY 24

  Woke up and found that Dahlia had sent me a message that said,

  Exhibit #3, OMG! what did you do 2 him?

  with a link to Fringe Theory’s “The Alchemy of Sin.”

  I am a modern man with no superstitions

  Yet Gin dissolved all my inhibitions

  Turned poor metal into something priceless

  Spun me through an emotional crisis

  Cuz I didn’t believe in love magic,

  Didn’t fall for sleight-of-hand,

  But Gin changed me in ways I can’t understand.

  She was my transmutation

  Into some glorious distillation

  Of sin and purification.

  Gin all night long.

  When that song came out, almost a year after my night with Ellis, I had listened to it over and over and over and over, aching with jealous conviction that he was using “Gin” to sing to another girl. Or hundreds of girls. Now I didn’t know what to think.

  OBJECTION TO DISCHARGEABILITY

  FEBRUARY 6

  Today I went to QUIRC to sign my contract. I made a special effort not to look for Ellis in the halls. Because he’s engaged and utterly, absolutely, unequivocally unavailable.

  QUIRC gave me everything I asked for: the salary, an experienced paralegal, the additional private “meditation” space, the supply of No. 1 Ticonderoga pencils, use of the car service, club memberships, and an allowance for my Krav Maga training.

  The office manager, Bailey, showed me to my roomy office with leather, stainless steel, and glass furniture. She said, “I took the liberty of ordering a few paintings to cheer up the room, but you can replace them with what
ever you like.”

  Was I supposed to know anything about art? I should have watched Sister Wendy at the Norton Simon Museum instead of the Big Valley marathon, but I couldn’t resist a show with golden California hills, a gallant lawyer, a leather-clad brawler, and gun-slinging Barbara Stanwyck. I said, “The pictures are really nice, Bailey. Thank you.”

  She showed me a small refrigerator hidden in a credenza. “We’ll keep it stocked for you with your preferred brands. There’s always Joocey Jooce, so if you have any favorite flavors, please tell the office manager.”

  “I didn’t know they sold it bottled. I thought it was only available freshly made.”

  “They bottle a small amount for special clients. Ms. Tumbridge requested it as an efficiency measure when she thought we were spending too much time making smoothie runs.” Bailey opened a door on the far wall and said, “Here’s your mediation—I mean, meditation room.”

  “I know it was a peculiar request, but I find that I need solitude and quiet time to prepare for court.”

  “Like an actor’s dressing room!” she said, and then added a little shyly, “I saw you in court when you were with GLKH, Ms. Walters, and your performance, well, it’s legendary. I hope this will be satisfactory. It was converted from a storage space, but we tried to make it comfortable.”

  I stepped into a small windowless room with a low-pile rug, an armoire, and a sofa long enough for me to nap on, which is probably what the partners thought I’d be doing here. The armoire could hold several outfits and I could change easily here in an emergency. “Thanks, Bailey. It’s perfect.”

  I got my office passkey, ID badge, and an employee manual. As I was introduced around, I felt a rising panic. Everyone was so sophisticated and fancy, and I was just a girl who’d liked to spend quiet evenings with her dad cleaning guns while her mom made a pan of brownies.

  Quinty dropped by my office just as the HR manager was leaving. He sat in the leather-and-chrome chair across from my desk. I tried to very casually check out those features that Ellis had inherited, and I hoped Amber hadn’t told him, “Her credentials might not be too shabby, but you do know that she was a trashy little slutty groupie, right? You’ll definitely want to disinfect anything she sits on.”

  Quinty was wearing the same tweed jacket and had a monocle dangling from his pocket. “Have you got everything all sorted out?”

  “Yes, sir.” I tried not to stare at the monocle.

  “I just wanted you to know that it’s official. We’ve got the ReplaceMax suit, and I’m putting you on lead.”

  My heart did a flip. “Thank you, sir! I won’t let you down.”

  “I hope not. In fact, we hired you especially for this case. If you hadn’t approached us, we would have gone to you, since Dr. Sven Morigi, our client, greatly admires the work you did at GLKH. He’d like to meet you this week to talk about the case.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s an amazing opportunity for me. What’s the catch?”

  He raised his bushy white eyebrows. “Hmm?”

  “I’m not here for one day, yet I get a case that any of the partners would kill for. There’s got to be a catch.”

  His laugh boomed through the room. “The first one is that Amber expected to be lead, and she won’t be happy being second chair. If you make any mistakes, she’ll use them against you and she’ll be unforgiving.”

  “I’m glad to have a second who is watching for anything I might miss, because I want the best for our client.”

  “Good attitude. The second catch is not really your concern. Amber has the appearance of conflict, which is why I agreed to allow a new hire to be first chair.” He frowned and then shrugged. “My son, Ellis, is good friends with Maxwell Kirsch, the CEO of ReplaceMax, and he doesn’t want us to take this suit. Ellis has always been ruled by his heart, so that’s to be expected.”

  Was he telling me that Ellis was in love with Amber, so don’t get any ideas? “I appreciate your caution, sir. It’s always best to avoid even the suspicion of compromise.”

  “Amber and I have met with Dr. Morigi to fully apprise him of the situation,” he said. “I know Amber well enough to trust that she won’t allow a personal relationship to influence her professional conduct.”

  Was this code for “because she conceded to letting us hire you even though you’re a skanky ho”? Maybe.

  Quinty sighed deeply. “No, I would bet my bottom dollar that Amber would never let a human emotion sway her dedication to the big win. If she did, we’d have to eliminate our business relationships with a good portion of the female population.”

  Quinty winked, and I knew that my skanky ho-ishness was official. “Sir, I just want to say…”

  He held up his hand and said, “No need. I gather that you and my son met when you were both graduate students. We all have private lives, including me.”

  I tried to smile, but my muscles might have been making another expression entirely. “Anything else, sir?”

  “A few of our witnesses are terminally ill, so we need you to get an expedited trial date. By expedited, I don’t mean in a year. We need to try the case within the year.” He pulled his monocle out of his pocket and swung it by the gold chain. “You’re going to tell me that it’s impossible.”

  “No, sir. I’m going to tell you that’s improbable, because I don’t think anything is impossible. I’ll do all I can to schedule a trial date ASAP.”

  “That’s what I hoped to hear. Well, every second counts!”

  When I walked through the front door of my building, Claude was waiting for me, ecstatic that he’d received a check by special delivery. “Joocey Jooce paid all the back rent for my tenant!” He clutched my hands, saying, “Thank you, Miss Jennifer, thank you!”

  He told me the amount of the check, which was more than what the tenant owed even at the current market rate, let alone the original monthly rate. “They must value your tenant’s work to pay so much and so quickly,” I said to my solvent PFLOML.

  Either things were coming too damn easy for me, or my luck had changed. And I didn’t believe in luck. Satisfied with the resolution to his rent problem, I told Claude to contact a tax attorney to take care of the error on his filing.

  “But you’re my lawyer!”

  “Okay, as your lawyer, I strongly advise you to see a tax specialist. I’ll give you the name of a friend of mine who’ll take good care of you.”

  “I guess she’ll have to do, Miss Jennifer. But you’re the best, you know.”

  It was funny how the appreciation of a doorman meant just as much to me as a big win in court, but it did.

  8:00 P.M.

  Text to Dahlia: Does olde English use lots of extra e’s?

  Text from Dahlia: Yeesth. Whye?

  Text to Dahlia: I’ve joined a new LARP teamee. Medieval age. Castles & Knights.

  Text from Dahlia: Yere suche a geekey wenche! I’ll helpeth u with youre dressee. Any hawt knights for hawt nites?

  Text to Dahlia: Hope so but suits of armor can be deceiving.

  11:40 P.M.

  I changed into black sweats and a hoodie and tied my hair back. I love this city at night, even on cold, wet nights. It’s so charged with energy, and the millions of lights glow and glitter and shimmer against the darkness. I hit a fast pace, so that by the time anyone noticed me, I was already gone, baby, gone.

  In a few minutes, I’d warmed up. I felt strong. Not superhuman strong, but really good anyway, and almost hoping that ninjas would leap out from a doorway and attack so I could throw a few moves at them while shouting “Bam! Kapow!”

  After I put in seven miles, I loped over to the Mansion’s garage. I sighed as I passed by all the gleaming muscle cars, shiny roadsters, and beefed-up trucks, and chose a beat-up Toyota, which wouldn’t attract attention. I checked out the tricked-up features: the car had the standard invisibility shield and a nice hydroplane function, but sadly no sideways rotation or flamethrowers. Because you never know.

  When I asked for the ke
y, the guy, whose name really is Guy, said, “Sorry, Ms. Walters, but you need to sign the release to take it out and you aren’t permitted to race, do stunts, or to transform in it.”

  I had no intention of transforming in the car because She-Hulk’s head would rip right through the roof like a green jack-in-the-box. “Don’t worry. I’m only using it for surveillance. I’ll bring it back in one piece.”

  The attendant cringed back as if he thought I was going to punch him. “I’m really sorry, but I’m just following the rules: no signature, no car.”

  “Fine.” I signed the release, which I had drawn up myself, including provisions and exclusions that might come in handy. As I always advise my clients, “Allowing your legal opponent to set the terms of a contract is like hiring a fox to design the security system for a chicken coop.”

  I drove to Queens and parked down the street from my PFLOML’s warehouse. The building was dark and I hoped no one was in. There was an alley that ran behind the warehouse, and I slipped in beside a stack of pallets and quickly yanked off my sweats. I tucked my glasses into one of my shoes for safety.

  I was wearing one of Shulky’s favorite black bodysuits beneath, and it sagged at my boobs, hung at my crotch, and pooched at my butt, ugh! But as I transformed, the fabric stretched taut. I felt my body growing large and solid with muscle, my vision sharpening, my blood moving through my arteries as I acquired her incredible strength.

  And then I felt the roar of She-Hulk’s personality—the bravado, the swag, and sexiness. There was a sharp moment when we coexisted, when I was She-Hulk and She-Hulk was Jennifer Walters, and it always felt amazing, like pure shimmering joy, like utter rightness and balance and perfection, and the universe stopped for that moment.

  Then it was gone, and I existed like a shadow within her.

  Shulky left my shoes and clothes by the pallets and rambled back to the fence. While I’d never break and enter, she had different rules. She sprung up in an easy standing back flip, clearing the vicious concertina wire just as the guard dogs tore out of the building.