Mr. Thomas flashes me a big smile. “She came this”—he brings his index and thumb together until they’re almost touching—“close to divorcing me. But I can’t complain; it’s only thanks to her bitch-face of a lawyer that we’re back together. If Mary hadn’t gone to her, we would’ve never met the wonderful couples’ therapist who works next door. Total chance, Mary and Dr. Keller bumped into each other in the elevator, and he convinced her to give our marriage a second chance. One hour with him put us back on track. Heck.” He side-hugs his wife—who by now has gone pale with mortification—and looks down at her adoringly. “We’ve never been happier.”
He pauses, then winces. “Sorry, I just realized how rude I’ve been, I haven’t introduced myself, Cedric Thomas, and you are?”
“Her bitch-face of a lawyer,” I snap. “So nice to meet you.” Mr. Thomas goes as pale as his wife, and neither says a word. I give them one of the fakest smiles I can muster, then turn on my heel and stride away, leaving them to wallow in their embarrassment.
After a block of speed-walking and venting to myself, I pull out my phone and call Leslie. She picks up on the third ring.
“Vivi. What’s up?”
“Hi,” I say.
“Are you running? You sound breathless.”
“No, just been power-walking all over Manhattan.”
“Oh, where are you?”
“Near Madison Square Park.”
“Really? I’m three blocks away; you want to meet for a drink?”
I remove my phone from my ear to check the time, and sigh. “No, I can’t, I promised Tegan we would have dinner tonight before she goes to the movies with her friends. And I’m also carrying your present for tomorrow night, still unwrapped.”
“Hm? Madison Square Park, you said… What special shops are there? I can’t think of anything.”
“Now, don’t you go Google-Earthing the entire block! Be patient until tomorrow night and you’ll love the surprise, trust me.”
“Okay,” Leslie says. “So if you’re rushing through Midtown with secret, unwrapped presents I’m not supposed to know about, why are you calling me?”
“That man you put in the office next to mine—I need him gone.”
“Who, Lucas? Why? I know when you met him he seemed a little crazed, but he was stressed about finding a new office and he had his heart set on a corner one. But, usually, he’s a nice guy, I swear. Actually…”
“What?” I ask.
“Garrett and I couldn’t wait to introduce you guys… We hoped you would, you know, hit it off or something.”
I scoff. “With that maniac?”
“He’s not—it doesn’t matter. Luke probably isn’t ready yet, anyway.”
I take the bait. “Not ready, why?”
“His last girlfriend walked out on him, a total blindside, no one saw it coming.”
Ah, so much for being the greatest couples’ therapist of the century. He couldn’t even keep his house in order. I store the information of his ass being dumped not that long ago into his file in my brain. I need all the ammunition I can get.
“Boo-hoo!” I say, unmoved. “I’m heartbroken, but I still want him gone.”
“Why?”
“You can’t put a couples’ therapist next to a divorce attorney, Lee! Not a week in, and he’s already poaching all my clients.”
“Wait, what? I thought you guys operated at opposite ends of the spectrum. How is he stealing your clients?”
“By turning a bitter wife and an unromantic husband into turtle doves after a magic hour with him is how.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“Of course it is! Come on, you really think years of issues can just vanish with a snap of his fingers? The problems are still there, and once his magic spell wears off, the Thomases are going to be right back where they started.” I pause, huff, then add, “Not to mention he’s stealing my business! How am I supposed to pay for Tegan’s college tuition if he keeps brainwashing my clients? You have to kick him out of the building, Lee. Tell me there’s a way.”
“Afraid not, honey, his contract is as ironclad as yours.”
“Are you telling me I have no chance of getting rid of him?”
“No, not unless he goes voluntarily. But I honestly don’t see that happening.”
We hang up shortly afterward, and I hurry to catch the subway back to Dumbo. On the train, while I’m jostled and tossed around like a pinball, I brood over the Master Puppeteer of Hearts. I have to get rid of him. Shrek can’t come on my home turf, steal my clients like it’s nobody’s business, and expect no retaliation. Nuh-uh, mister, you picked the wrong divorce lawyer to mess with.
Five
Lucas
Saturday evening, I enter Garrett’s building—a Williamsburg condo that has a communal rooftop deck with stunning Manhattan and East River views—careful not to tear the paper of the engagement gift I’m carrying.
I greet the doorman with a cheerful, “Hey, Washington, how’s it going?”
“Evening, Dr. Keller. Perfect night for a rooftop party. Everyone is already upstairs; you can go right ahead.” He inches his chin toward the elevator.
I nod and cross the hall. After a quick ride up, I step out onto the tenth-floor terrace, where cool lounge music fills the air.
“Luke!” Garrett—who’s clearly been stationed on welcoming duties—exclaims. He receives me with open arms and hands me a flute of champagne. “Great to see you, buddy.”
I struggle for a second to reposition the perhaps too-large present under one arm, and then accept the glass.
“Man, can I drop this somewhere?” I ask Garrett.
“Oh, you didn’t need to bring anything,” he protests. “But the gifts station is right over here.”
He guides me to the left of the elevator and to a table piled with presents, which clearly shows I should’ve bought a gift. I drop the heavy load on a relatively empty corner, hoping the other guests didn’t go too fancy with their presents. A Google search assured me engagement gifts should be something small and sentimental.
Without the package, I’m finally free to move. I roll my shoulders and then sip my champagne while checking out the crowd.
“Wow, great party,”
