Based On A True Story

“Aren’t you Brooke Miller?” the hottie says to me as he follows me into the building. Did he just call me by my name? Um, how does he know my name?! Okay, so, now I’ve got random hotties stalking me in the street. I’m strangely conflicted about this.

“How do you know my name?” I ask, edging my way towards the security desk. In a split second, I formulate a positively brilliant plan for getting away from hottie/stalker, should things go awry. I will simply throw my briefcase at his chest and distract him momentarily so that I can run to the safety of the security guard. I don’t think that the guards are real cops or anything, but they’re still pretty darn imposing. Especially Margie Ann. That woman will put the fear of God into you with just one look. Now, if hottie/stalker actually catches my briefcase instead of getting distracted by it, my plan will be pretty much blown.

The whole plan becomes moot when he says: “Yes, I thought it was you. Brooke Miller,” he says, reaching into his briefcase. “You’ve been served.”

***

“I don’t get it,” Trip says, walking into my office unannounced (it’s like there’s just no point in actually having an assistant in the first place). “I thought that Douglas was cool with all of this. He seemed fine when I told him the other night about the movie we were making about a girl who goes to her ex-boyfriend’s wedding. We had that great dinner all together at Pastis. But now, this.”

“You mean the movie you’re making about my life,” I said.

“No,” he says with a nervous laugh. “I thought we already established this. It’s my story about getting married and then inviting my ex-girlfriend to come to the wedding.”

“You say tomato,” I say, under my breath as I roll my eyes at Trip. Then, in my sensible lawyerly voice, without the eye roll: “I don’t get it, either. Let me give him a call and I’ll call you as soon as I hear back from him.”

Trip settles into one of my visitor chairs, clearly ready to watch as I make my phone call, which confuses me. If he thinks that I’m about to call my fiancé to ask him why he’s suing me, does he really think that I want my ex-boyfriend here to watch? Trip can be such a moron sometimes. Which reminds me…

“Trip, I thought you told me that I couldn’t sue you for making a movie out of my life?” I ask.

“Didn’t you get an A in torts?” Trip asks. “I got a C, but I still remembered that a private citizen can sue for their rights of privacy.”

“I knew you were wrong!” I said. “I just had too much wine and got confused.”

“Or maybe,” he says, “it’s just that you’re not really a better lawyer than me after all.”

I think but don’t say: “No. I still am.”

“That’s why I took you guys out to Pastis that night,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “I thought I had your consent. And Douglas’s, too.”

“I never consented to anything,” I say, my hand involuntarily flying up to my chest. “But I thought it was strange that you were hounding me to go out for dinner.”

“It was my assistant who called you,” Trip points out.

“Whatever,” I say under my breath.

“The strange thing here,” Trip says, “is that you’re a named party in this lawsuit, too. Which means that your fiancé has just served you a lawsuit.”

“I know,” I say, trying to formulate a reason why my fiancé might be suing me. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the real Douglas wasn’t actually at that dinner. It was Jack. Pretending to be Douglas. “So, why don’t you let me call him?”

“Yes,” he says, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “Please do.”

“Okay,” I say, nodding my head towards the door. Trip doesn’t take the hint. “Okay, so I’ll call you later after I’ve had a chance to sort all of this out.”

Trip nods enthusiastically, still not getting the hint.

“So,” I say, “you should leave now.”

“Oh, yes,” he says, “of course.”

Trip finally leaves my office and I prepare to call “Douglas.”

Instead I call Jack.

“Ohmigod! Douglas is suing me!”

“Who is this?” Jack says. I’m pretty sure I can tell that he’s smiling broadly on the other end of the line.

“Can you please be serious for a second?” I say, jumping up from my desk and closing my office door shut with my foot. “I’m being sued !”

“Well, first of all,” Jack says. “For a lawyer, you don’t react very well to conflict. Or to potential litigation. Where’s the fight in you, Brooke?”

“Jack, I am being serious here. What am I going to do? I’ve never been sued before!”

“But you’ve been involved in tons of lawsuits before. So you know that most lawsuits end up settling. He must be looking for money. How much is he suing for?”

“Two million dollars.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jack says letting out a huge sigh.

“Um, okay, not helping.”

“I can give you a really big discount on my fees if you want me to represent you,” Jack says, still smiling. Okay, I know I can’t see if he’s smiling, but I just know.

“Still not helping.”

“Well, you’re going to need a lawyer,” Jack says. “Actually, should I be billing you right now?”

“Not! Helping!”

“Okay,” he says. “Then how’s this: Let me make a few calls and try to find you a lawyer-one who’s not actually involved in this whole thing-and in the meantime, maybe you should go speak to Douglas. Maybe if you tell him what happened, he’ll drop the lawsuit.”

“You’ve met Douglas,” I say, “haven’t you? He’s not exactly the kind, understanding type.”

“Well,” Jack says, “then the other option would be to go and tell Trip the truth. That you and Douglas broke up on the eve of his wedding so you brought me instead and made me wear a kilt and speak with a Scottish accent in an effort to pretend I was Douglas. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, maybe that would be best. If you explain it to him now, he’ll realize this whole thing was just a big misunderstanding. And ultimately, if you can get him on your side instead of Douglas’s, it’ll make Trip a lot less likely to counter-sue you for making misrepresentations to him. If you and Trip can stay aligned, you have a much better chance of fighting Douglas. Just call Trip.”

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay, you’re going to talk to Trip? That was easy.”

“What?” I ask, beginning to shut my computer down. “Oh, God, no. I’m going to go and yell at Douglas.”

Chapter Seven

“Well, this is unexpected,” my ex-boyfriend Douglas says, and he’s right. The last time we saw each other, I told him in no uncertain terms that I didn’t want to marry him and that I never wanted to see him again. So, under normal circumstances, it would be curious that I’m here.

But under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have to be here. Up until one day ago, I was one-hundred percent sure that I’d be keeping my promise-I had no intention of ever seeing Douglas again.

“How is this unexpected?” I ask through gritted teeth. “You’re suing me!” He doesn’t get up from his desk like he normally would when a lady enters a room. He stays planted behind it, using it as a shield.

The coward.

“You broke up with me and refused to talk to me,” Douglas says matter-of-factly, picking a pen up from his desk and then examining it. He’s calm, cool. Which has the effect of making me even more angry than I was when