Dick by Law (7 page)

 

*****

Chapter 1
6

 

130 Million Years Later

After Court

Simon and Ishi sat across from each other at
a romantic corner table in the nicest restaurant in Melville, Pennsylvania--
El Pescador
("The Fisherman")
.

For a first date situation, it couldn't ha
ve been more perfect. The lights were low, and candles flickered on the tables
. The décor had a
n exotic
Spanish flavor,
with
old-fashioned fishermen's nets and gear hung
alongside
Spanish photos and paintings
on the adobe-covered walls
.

Attentive waiters brought bread and wine and made recommendations from the menu. The smells of bubbling sauces and
frying meats wafted out of the kitchen. The sound
s
of a softly strummed guitar
played through the dining room, as a strolling musician wandered among the tables.

It wasn't the kind of place Simon fre
quented, but the atmosphere was just right for a special occasion
. W
inning the lawsuit
--a
nd
a chance to win Ishi--certainly fell in that category.

Simon clinked his wine glass against Ishi's. "Here's to
the best thing that ever happened to me in court," he said. "Meeting you."

Ishi smiled and clinked her glass against his. "I'll drink to that." She looked radiant in the light from the candle on the table, surrounded by a softly glowing nimbus.

Simon couldn't tear his eyes away from her; he just stared and drank in every detail.
She wore
her dark hair up, arranged in a neat twist
on top of her head.
Her
silky white spaghetti strap top left her creamy neck and shoulders mostly bare. A single onyx pendant hung from a thin gold chain at her throat, a black oval glittering in the candlelight.

Simon's
heart beat faster as he watched her sip her
shimmering white
wine.
"I'm glad it happened," he said. "I'm glad
Horne Shaw
screwed me over, and I ended up suing him for being a dick. If it hadn't happened, I probably never would have met you."

Ishi clinked glasses and giggled. "Here's to
Horne Shaw
for being such a dick then."

"Yeah." Simon laughed. "Here's to that big, nasty dick
for making all
this
possible
."

"It's ironic," said Ishi. "Someone like that sets out to make your life miserable, and in the end, he's the one who's miserable."

"And my life's better
because of him
." Simon smiled at her. "
Definitely
better."

"Don't tell
him
that, though," said Ishi.

S
imon grimaced and shook his head. "He wouldn't appreciate it, would he?"

"My guess would be 'no,'" said Ishi. "A big, fat, alpha dick 'no.'"

Just then, a waiter brought the f
irst course
--an assortment of tapas. He arranged them on the table, asked if Simon and Ishi wanted anything else, then hurried off.

"Those people over there are staring at us." Ishi bobbed her head to one side.

Simon looked over and caught a couple turning away at the same moment--a well-dressed man and woman in their thirties or forties.

"The price of fame," said Ishi. "You'd better get used to it."

"I think they were admiring
you
," said Simon. "They were probably talking about how stunningly
beautiful
you are."

"
I'm serious, Simon." Ishi reached for one of the tapas--a little sandwich made of
purple olives between hunks
of herb
-dusted bruschetta. "No one expected you
to win
that lawsuit
.
M
ark my words
, you're going to be a celebrity
."

Simon grinned. "Would that be a problem for you?"

Ishi shrugged. "It doesn't matter either way."

"Ha!" Simon pointed at her. "You
are
my 'either way.'"

"I know some famous people," said Ishi. "They're the same as anybody
else
." She took a bite of the tapa she'd chosen.

"What famous people do you know?" said Simon.

"Are you into
manga
?"

Simon frowned. "Japanese comic books, right?"

Ishi nodded.

"Honestly, I've never read them," said Simon.
"I know lots about American comics, though."

"Then you won't know who I'm talking about," said Ishi. "He's a
mangaka
. A comic book artist and writer. Very famous in
manga
circles.
One of the
most
famous.
"

"How do you know him?" said Simon.

"He's my father," said Ishi.
"
Takumi Yoshida.
Creator of
Pontoon Pudge
,
Mister Mishap
, and
Baby
Steroid
Snapper
."

"How cool is that?" said Simon.
"You're famous by association!"

"Actually," said Ishi, "I'm kind of
famous myself
, too, you know. Father based one of his manga characters on me. Ever hear of Sweet Bean Shiko?"

The name rang a bell, and Simon snapped his fingers. "Was there a cartoon about her?"

"A Japanese
anime
, yes," said Ishi. "It aired in the States ten years ago.
Sweet Bean Liontamer
. I'm Sweet Bean."

"No kidding." Simon
grinned
.
"So your father's an artist, and so are you. A
rt
istic talent
really runs in your family, huh?
"

Ishi shrugged. "Being a courtroom sketch artist isn't quite the same as being a
mangaka
."

"Have you ever drawn
manga
?" said Simon.

"I worked as an assistant in his studio when I was young," said Ishi. "But it didn't last."

"Why?" said Simon. "Did your styles clash?"

"You might say that. Takumi fired me." Ishi
smiled sadly
. "We had a falling out, but it's just as well. He's a tough act to follow."

Just then, a
short man in a tweed jacket and black tie stopped beside the table and cleared his throat.
"Excuse me." The man adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses and smiled. "Dave Geist, Melville
Beacon-
Clipper
. May I ask you a few questions about the 'dick' suit?"

Simon looked at Ishi and laughed. "'Dick suit.'" It conjured a crazy image.

Ishi giggled. "Can you take one of those to the dry cleaners?"

Just then, the strolling musician reached the table and proceeded to strum a powerful Spanish-flavored tune. It was a bizarre scene--the reporter on one side, the guitarist on the other, with Simon and Ishi in between. It was a scene that never could have happened before that day.

"What do you say, Mr. Bellerophon?" said Geist. "I'll make it quick."

Simon leaned back and shook his head. "This is wild."

Ishi gestured at the newcomers and nodded. "See? I
told
you you'd be a celebrity."

"
You're
the celebrity," said Simon. "How about if
you
talk to the reporter, and
I'll
talk to the guitar player."

Ishi took his hand and smiled warmly. "Enjoy the spotlight. You deserve it."

"Only if we get to pick this up later," said Simon. "
Our
interview, I mean."

Ishi shrugged. "Either way."

 

*****

Chapter 1
7

 

The Next Day

The morning after his date with Ishi, Simon stumbled out of his bedroom in a
rumpled
gray t-shirt and
navy blue
sweatpants, feeling groggy but great. Memories of the night before swirled in his head: the romantic dinner at El Pescador, after-dinner drinks at a local night s
pot, a walk in the park...and a
kiss in the car outside her apartment.
The kiss, especially, kept coming back to him, getting better every time he thought about it. He smiled as he walked down the hall, feeling like he was still in a dream.

Then
boom
, the dream was over.
As soon as Simon walked
into the living room
, Josie thrust a
telephone at
his face.

"It's the President of the United States,
Boss
!
"
She was still wearing her yellow "Simon Says You're a Dick!" t-shirt from court.
"He wants to invite you to the White House for dinner
!
"

"That's nothing!" Chip
, who was sprawled upside-down on the sofa,
also wearing his yellow t-shirt,
held up another phone. "I've got the Pope on line 1!
"

Josie waved dismissively at
Chip. "He's full of shit,
Boss
!"

"So is she." Chip wagged the phone in Simon's direction. "We both have
reporters
on the line."

Simon guessed he'd slept longer than he'd thought. The In¢entive$ team had already let themselves in and started their shift. He was briefly irritated that he'd given Josie a key to the house, but he couldn't stay irritated on a day like today, with the memory of kissing Ishi still fresh in his mind.
"
R
eporters are c
alling about the case, huh?"

"No, they're calling about
what you had for
breakfast
," said Josie. "Of
course
they're calling about the
frickity-frackity
case!"

"They've been calling about it all morning!" said Chip.

Simon yawned
.
"So what've you been telling them?"

"The truth." Ankha
, dressed in a shredded black top and tights,
strolled in with a giant mug of coffee. "That the w
ork
In¢entive$
is doing is a more important
story."

"That
In¢entive$
deserves front page coverage!" said Josie.

"And the top story on the six o'clock news," said Chip. "Plus which, we're
hitting up the reporters for donations."

Simon
snapped his fingers
. "Now
that's
what I like to hear!"

"It's our chance to cash in,
Boss
," said Josie. "Use the spotlight to spread the good word and fatten our endowment."

"I'm thinking we need to make a major push," said Chip. "Ride this dick deal for all it's worth."

"Let's really milk it dry," said Josie.

"Squeeze every last bit out of it," said Ankha.

"Enough
with the euphemisms
!" Simon laughe
d and headed for the kitchen. "
You've already driven your point home!"

Chip groaned. "T
hat
one
's hard to swallow."

"Well, how about taking a stab at this?"
Josie followed
Simon
, holding out the phone.
"
I've got a
TV
reporter from Pittsburgh
on hold.
Should we set up an interview?"

"Yeah
, Sime
." Chip
brought in his phone, too
. "My guy's from Baltimore. Plus
these." He flashed a sheet of paper with rows of names and phone numbers scrawled in
ink
.
"Twenty-five
reporters from all over the country, plus Canada."
A
phone rang in the living room. "And counting."

"So whatta you s
ay there, Elvis?" Josie poked
the phone at Simon's chest. "Are you ready to meet the press?"

Simon
just stared
at the list
and shook his head in amazement
. "That's a lot of interviews.
It'll be a major
time sink."

"But you
can't
say no," said Chip.
"Think of all the good you can do!"

"Think about the
principles
you
talked about in court," said Josie. "
This is
your chance to promote them,
Boss
.
"

"Yeah," said Chip. "Why stop at whipping
one
dick? There's a whole
nation
of dicks waiting for you to beat
them."

Josie giggled. "Exactly,
Boss
. You could really give 'em a
pounding
."

Simon rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"Can we go ten seconds without a
dick joke
, please?"

"Okay, okay." Chip brushed a hand over the bright green highlighted tips of his spiky black hair. "This could be a once in a lifetime opportunity to make a difference.
To make a statement about something important."

"Or at the very least," said Ankha, who'd just glided into the room with her mug, "you can really get out the word about
Horne Shaw
being a dick before his lawyer gets the decision overturned on appeal."

"And don't forget all the free publicity for
In¢entive$
." Josie smacked the phone into Simon's hand and wrapped his fingers around it. "
M
ake the call
s
, Boss!"

Simon knew they were right
.
T
he
crusader spirit
of the Lone Appraise
r urged
him
onward
.
"I'll do it on one condition
:
I get to hand-pick my public relations team. I want you, you, and you." He pointed at Josie, Chip, and Ankha.

"Groovy!" said Chip.
"Stand back and watch the ass-kicking begin!"

"Sweet!" Simon shoved the phone back into Josie's hand. "Start by taking all my calls and making my appointments."

Josie frowned. "This is different from all the rest of the time
how
, exactly?"

"You're working for a higher
purpose
now," said Simon. "
Striking fear in the dicks of America."

"Who said anything about America?" said Josie.

"We have to start somewhere."
Simon shrugged and headed for the back door. "T
oday the dicks of America, tomorrow the dicks of the world."

 

*****