A Pact For Life (8 page)

A bell rang signaling the end of Diana’s third bad date of the night. Normally, three bad dates at a speed dating event might not be too bad, but three dates was all Diana had so far. She had no idea why she accepted Jenny’s speed dating invitation, but was certainly regretting it. Thanks to the egotistical men, unbearable hostess, and overenthusiastic women, the entire event had been an exercise in tolerance.

As she proceeded to the table where her next date sat, she knew before he even said a word that it would soon be bad date number four. She deduced this from the man's initials embroidered on the cuffs of his shirt, his combed back, obviously dyed black hair, and the gold jewelry that was present everywhere. Fighting back the desire to flee, she stuck out her arm to shake the man’s hand, which he lifted and kissed, followed by him telling her, “Why hello there, Jessica Rabbit. Aren’t you a sight? My name is Gerald.”

Without realizing it, she clenched her fist while Gerald held it next to his lips, providing a still frame picture of what she would've loved to do. But like any excellent lawyer, she could tell he was a magnet for lawsuits, and decided to appease him for the time being. Rich jackasses made lucrative clients.

While he talked, Diana thought about several men and women she knew who settled with whomever was most convenient. After being single for so long, their standards had taken a nosedive from finding 'the right person' to 'anyone will do'.

Diana vowed never to settle like them. If she did, she might end up with someone like the man sitting across the table, and this pissed her off. So she was getting older without a man, this meant her standards had to lower?

With a blink, Diana snapped back to the conversation to hear, “And I haven't been water skiing since my shoulder surgery. But what can you do? I'm the type of guy who plays hard.”

Like imagining a tropical paradise while stranded in the Arctic, Diana began to think about Andrew Finnegan. She kept picturing the stare he gave her as he walked off the stage at the race. There was something so right about it that she couldn't get it out of her mind.

He had called several days before and set up a consultation through Jenny, but Diana still hadn't spoke to him. She would officially meet him the following Monday.

“So there I was, Joanie was on my left, Tiffany on my...” Diana looked over at Jenny laughing with a man Diana had earlier written off. Every date of Jenny's seemed to go well, and Diana wondered how she was able to be so open and inviting to even the most wretched of men.

While she stared at Jenny, Diana's guard was dropped and Gerald, opportunistic bastard he was, reached over and interlocked his fingers in hers, which brought all of her undivided attention back to her date. Along with her attention came the rage of one of Denver's best lawyers in addition to four dates worth of frustration.

“This is over.” Diana said and stood up to leave.

“Come on, Jessica Rabbit, you should feel lucky. I can give you the life you've always wanted.”

It was one of those comments that can turn a normal woman into the most die-hard feminist. “I don't need your help getting the life I've always wanted, I have it already. And seriously, Jessica Rabbit!? There wasn't anything in this decade you could have used? Way to be original there, dick. Can't say I've ever heard that one before.”

Diana's voice had raised enough that every date in the room had stopped. There were no more couples, just eighteen observers.

“Go ahead and leave then. I would have been dating down with you...” Gerald said.

“I'm going to stop you right there to clarify something. There is nothing special about you at all. There's no talent, no intelligence, decency, ability, or kindness. You're old, privileged money, and that makes you worthless. It's a shame you aren't a female because you might have been able to attain some miniscule form of fame in exchange for a sex tape. You were born into wealth, attended the best prep schools, got a cushy job, and are still less talented than most of the world. You have no idea what it's like to work hard, or fend for yourself, or even hear the word 'no'. Well, until now that is. You old money types disgust me.”

“No wonder you are single. Fucking bitch.”

Diana reached back and gave a slap that resulted in a loud thud rather than a skin-on-skin clap. She used the side of her palm like a karate chop because she wanted him to feel it. Cale taught her the move one night after she slapped him, and it created a loud sound but no damage outside of a hand print on his cheek. After teaching her the fine art of slapping, Cale offered to let her slap him again, but she refused.

Gerald was knocked back, covering his face in order to hide the tears. Standing over the cowering man, Diana said defiantly, “Screw this, I'm outta here.”

It was a bar as typical as they come - stained glass, felt, oak, alcohol, and crowds. Cale, Brian, and Nick were there drinking without regard for the next morning.

“Look at that.” Cale pointed out to a red eyed Brian. There was a brunette girl in the corner involved in a shouting match with a man who was doing the majority of the shouts. “I'm going over there and stepping in.”

Brian asked, “Don't you ever get tired of playing the hero, Cale? What if she deserves to be yelled at?”

Cale knew it was the crazy blond all over again. Almost all of the girls he tried to save didn't need a hero, but rather a therapist.

Still though, he was a man of chivalry.

“Brian, grab me another gin. I'll be back.”

It was a single office lit up on a Saturday night. Stained glass, felt, oak, books, and Diana. With the speed dating event long behind her, she was working with furious motivation to prove to Gerald and all of the other old moneyers that she was better than them.

To Ms. Diana Young, Esq.

We feel our buy out of Mrs. Bertrand's interest in the partnership accurately reflects the current fair market value of her ownership percentage. Please respond with your decision.

-Greg Levine, Esq.

“Like hell you are giving her that pathetic amount, you bastards.” Diana said to herself and went over to bookshelf to find one of her books on partnership laws. “I can save her.”

Cale was inches from the man's face. The only thing preventing him from getting any closer was the flat bill of the man's hat. “If you ever put your hands on her again, I will beat you to a bloody pulp and piss on whatever remains.”

“Dude... cool.” Flat Bill was scared. Cale's gray shirt made his well-defined arms from years of stone work stand out, but besides that, Cale reached that level of drunk that crosses into the territory of an unstoppable force. Whenever you hear reports of people still charging despite being tazed, they are in this state.

The girl Cale was there to defend had already left, so the mission was accomplished, but you can't act like a hard ass, make threats to someone's face, and then walk away like a coward. Action must be taken! And Cale knew this.

He grabbed the front and back of the man's head, pulled him in close, and planted a long kiss on his cheek.

Then he walked away.

Gregory Levine, Esq.

Mr. Levine, after reviewing your buyout offer for
Mrs. Bertrand, I feel this does not accurately reflect the proper amount of her basis in the partnership. Using section 754 basis adjustment, the partnership's assets should have been adjusted to fair market value the day she inherited her interest in the partnership. We will conduct an appraisal of the assets and contact you with a proper buyout amount.

Sincerely,

Ms. Diana Young

Diana grabbed the letter from the printer, read it over twice, and knew she nailed it. The appraisal will bring in more income to her firm, and as far as Gregory Levine goes, he would regret trying to screw her.

The letter was stuffed into an envelope, but the stick of glue was lost among the papers strewn across her desk. “Screw it,” Diana said to herself and licked the envelope to seal it.

She dropped it in the outgoing mail bin and went back to her office to tackle the next project.

Cale awoke the next morning in a bed he didn't recognize and with a girl he didn't remember. She was blond and had a tattoo of a raven on her left shoulder blade. That much he could tell as he looked to his left.

Although it hurt to make the slightest move, the feeling of something coming back up gave him the motivation to run to the bathroom. Opening the toilet lid, he spilled his guts into an inanimate object that didn't object, nor ease his pain.