The Day Hell Froze Over

This is a story for Randi's "Lie to Me" series.

What were the odds?

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I was in a pretty good mood. I had just acquired a business I'd been after for a while, and it took a bit of doing. Some of the things I did were sneaky, underhanded, and borderline illegal, but I got away with it. That should impress Dad.

I was still riding my high when I got to the office the next day. and when I entered my office, my PA went over the day with me. It was nothing out of the ordinary until I came to an email from my lawyer, asking me to contact him immediately, with an attachment. Curiosity got to me and I opened it.

IT'S OFFICIAL! HELL HAS FROZEN OVER!

"Today, the town of Hell, Idaho, is completely frozen over. A freak ice storm hit the area last night, and everything is covered in a thick layer of ice. Nothing can move in the streets unless you have a large four-wheel drive with a good set of chains, and the mayor has declared an emergency. Only the police or emergency vehicles are allowed on the streets until further notice, and if you require emergency assistance, please call the hotline we've established. Emergency shelters have been opened at the local schools, and anyone needing to find shelter should call the police department.

"The predicted highs for the next few days are in the low twenties, and the nights could get down to zero, so there won't be a thaw for at least a week. Stay tuned to KRBX for further instructions."

I called Ben. "I read the article. Do we need to give a donation to a relief fund?"

"That's always a good idea, public relations wise, but that's not why I called. Remember your divorce?"

Wow, that brought back memories. The asshole had the nerve to cheat on me! It would seem he didn't care if he got caught, and he didn't try to hide it. We hadn't been getting along, and looking back, I knew I spent way too much time in the office and not enough on the marriage, but it didn't justify cheating. I went scorched earth in the divorce, and surprisingly, given my worth, he didn't particularly try to fight it. I ended up giving him the house, his cars, half the checking and savings at the time, and he got a chunk of my trust fund. We came from old money and were acquiring more as hard as we could go, so it was substantial. Due to a prenup with a cheating clause, he could only get ten per cent, but it was still a good many millions.

The only thing he asked for at all was a chance to speak to me for an hour, but I was so pissed I fought it tooth and nail. Finally, I gave his lawyer a notarized contract, saying I would speak to him when hell froze over, and not a minute before. In the end, he stopped trying, but he kept the paperwork.

Now, five years later, it seems it had come back to bite me on the ass. "Seriously? He knows that's not enforceable, and that I was never talking about a physical place."

"Anybody with any sense would know that, but the fact that you didn't specify which hell, even though you were speaking metaphorically, negates that outlet. He has a pretty good lawyer and he's pushing it. His lawyer told me it would be in your best interest to talk to him, saying he could make it very uncomfortable if you renege."

"It's been five years, and it's done and dusted. What can he do?"

"Well for starters, he can sue you for breach of contract. He may or may not win, but it'll splash your name all over the news for days. The media will have a field day with it. Paparazzi will hound the hell out of you, much less what mainstream media will do. There's a lot of streaming news services out there that don't like your father very much; think they'll let a golden opportunity like that slip away? They'll be so far up your company's ass you'll feel them in the back of your throat."

I thought about that for a minute. We weren't really popular right now, and this could hurt business. "Throw a couple of million at him, Ben, and make it go away."

He sighed. "All right, but you need to remember that money doesn't seem to matter much to him. He could have taken a much harder stance during the divorce, and you'd have ended up paying him a lot more than you did."

"Try."

"All right, you're the one paying me, but you also pay for my advice and I'm telling you, it might not go the way you think. 'Bye, Jasmine."

"'Bye, Uncle Ben. Tell Alice I expect her next month for the shopping trip."

He chuckled, but it was a dry chuckle. "Shopping spree is a better term. I think she spends half our annual income on those trips."

"Well then, it's a damn good thing you're a hotshot lawyer worth millions. Bring me good news."

"I'll talk to you soon, Pumpkin. Have fun on the trip."

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"He's filed a suit for breach of contract. Fifty million. I'd normally laugh at that, but he's hired Aubrey Melton. If you want a shark, I'm pretty good. If you want a megalodon, you hire her. This could get really ugly really fast."

I didn't get it for a minute. "What in the world are you talking about, Uncle Ben?"

"Your ex. He filed suit in his local jurisdiction. You're gonna have to go down there and appear."

"Not that I'm about to dignify this bullshit, but where is 'down there'?

"North Carolina."

I let out a big exhale. "The land of NASCAR, tobacco, and cousin loving? No way in hell."

He was silent for a minute. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but you don't have a choice. I can fight it, delay it as long as I can, but sooner or later we're going to run into some old school, Foghorn Leghorn judge, and then it gets ugly."

"Who's Foghorn Leghorn?"

There was another long silence. "Jesus, I'm getting old. Never mind, honey. The point is you're going have to woman up, put on the big girl drawers, and talk to him."

I giggled. "Big girl drawers? You really are getting old. Delay it as long as you can, and he might just give up."

"The odds of that happening are about as likely as me suddenly sprouting a full head of hair after 40 years of baldness. He waited five years before he caught you on a technicality. You really think he's gonna give up?"

I knew my ex, or at least I thought I did. One thing I remembered most about him was his tenacity, especially if he thought he was right. With that in mind, I came to a decision. "Jerk him around for three more months, then set it up."

That didn't happen. What did was he finally get hold of an old school Judge, who told Ben, in his words, "Make sure she knows I ain't foolin' around anymore. Her butt ain't in that seat in three weeks, I'll issue a bench warrant for failure to appear and have her extradited. Make sure she understands, counselor."

I dug my heels in and blew off the court date. Two days later an embarrassed policeman came to the office, and gave me a choice. I could walk out willingly, or he would cuff me and perp walk me out of the building. I got my PA to call Ben, and got in his car. He apologized about a dozen times because my company was a big deal in this town, and I finally told him to relax. "I get it, it's your job. You've treated me very fairly, and I hold no ill will towards you." He even held the doors for me when we walked into the city jail.

I never got locked up, they put me in their best interrogation room, and offered me all kinds of refreshments. Ben showed up twenty minutes later, looking grim.

"Thank God," I said, standing up, "Let's collect my stuff and get out of here."

He looked at me for just a minute, his expression saying it all. "You might as well sit down, honey, we're going to be here for a while. You failed to appear in court, and you're on remand for extradition. It usually takes three or four days for the representatives of whatever jurisdiction wants you to show up, sometimes a week. They usually don't let people in your situation loose before trial. After all, if you were already supposed to appear and didn't, there's a good likelihood you won't again."

I started to panic. Damn my stubborn ex-husband to hell! He never lets up, especially when he thinks it's right. "Set the date and fly him up here."

He shook his head. "That might have worked nine months ago. Now it ain't gonna fly. You've pissed the wrong people off, rural area people who never heard of you and don't give a damn about your wealth. This time Mountain, you have to go to Mohamed, at a time of his choosing. You have to appear before a Judge tomorrow for arraignment, and you better make sure you play for sympathy, and make promises you can keep when you talk to him. I'm pretty sure I can get you sprung, but it'll cost you. Have you told your father what's been going on?"

I cringed, remembering the conversation. My father hated my husband while we were together, mostly because he wasn't suitably impressed with the family, and made it plain he didn't give a shit about his opinions. He once told him he was just plain stupid if he went ahead with plans to acquire a competitor of the company he was involved with, and Daddy bought it out of spite. It turned out to be the worst decision of his career, and cost him a bundle. Eric never said anything, but he'd grin every time it was on the news or in the papers, which ended up pissing me off. That didn't seem to bother him as much as I thought it should, which made me rethink the whole dynamic of our relationship. It was very, very hard for me not to be the dominant one in any relationship, and while he didn't bully me, he made it damn clear to me that ours was a partnership, and if I didn't feel the same way I should take steps to dissolve it. That scared the shit out of me because I did love him, all the way to when I found out he cheated.

It's funny how I went from loving wife to raging bitch so fast, but it just flew all over me that he had the balls to cheat on me. I was THE PACKAGE, built like a Greek goddess, brains off the charts, and my face might not have launched ships, but it managed to get a few noses damaged when guys walked into doors and walls. Plus, the woman he cheated with, despite having a very good body, was average at best, lookswise. I gave him everything, nothing sexual was off the table, and I was pretty insistent we make love or just plain fuck at least four times a week. Of course, it was kind of scripted around my schedule and it irritated him no end that when he initiated it, I shut him down four times out of five.

I did that, one, because my schedule kept me hopping and I had to manage my time closely, and two, to reaffirm who had the upper hand in the relationship. I sometimes wondered if me micromanaging our sex lives drove him into the arms of another, but she was a NOBODY! She had no money, no prospects, no... nothing, but he still threw his marriage away for her. Even odder to me, he never pursued her once the divorce was over. Instead, he sold the house and disappeared for about four months.

He reemerged with a position in a new startup, located in the Research Triangle, doing who knows what. It must have been successful, though, because he and his partners got featured in a regional magazine for their success. Not that I kept up with him. I heard a couple of years later he remarried. I thought about sending her the transcripts of our divorce and maybe a picture or two, but decided to let it go. Besides, I was engaged to a nice young man my father heartily approved of. He worshipped the ground I walked on and had absolutely no spine. It was a match made in heaven.

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I stayed at the police department that night, and one of the wives brought over some thick comforters and overstuffed pillows. The door wasn't locked, and they gave me my laptop in case I wanted to work. They even offered me an interrogation room as an office. The next morning, I thanked them graciously for their kindness and donated ten grand to their summer sports program.

I appeared before a judge, and while he was kind, he made it clear I had to comply with the order or I'd be back in jail, over at county in the general population area, until he saw fit to turn me loose. "You have one week to resolve this or you're back before me. Understand?"

Ben heartily assured him I would comply, and just to be sure, he made me put up a $250,000 cash bond, which I would lose immediately if I didn't comply. I shivered as we walked out of court, and Uncle Ben kissed me, and told me to make damn sure I made that appointment.

"You don't even have to be civil to him, but you do have to spend an hour in conversation. Try to keep it light and the shouting matches to a minimum. Don't make me come down to the sunny South to get you."

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I took the smallest company jet down, arriving at the Raleigh airport at nine AM, an ungodly hour for a Saturday. I had my personal assistant, a makeup artist, and my personal hairdresser along, wanting to rub in his face what he lost. It was a ninety-minute drive to his house, and it galled me no end I had to go to him. I'd tried to book a small conference room at one of the local convention centers, but he flatly refused, and the judge concurred. "It took him over five years and an act of God and nature to get you here, so we're gonna do it how he wants."

At least I got to enjoy my ride. I'd made sure I got a Mustang convertible, and if not for mussing my impeccably perfect hair, I'd have had the top down the whole way. Maybe on the way back. The city streets gave way to countryside after forty minutes, and it was rolling farmland and wooded hills for the most part. It was very pastoral and calming, and I couldn't help but comparing it to my twenty-fifth, top floor condo. Yes, the views were spectacular, but you were so far above everything it was like the view from an airplane.

GPS directed me into a long and winding driveway, ending at a large house, old by the looks of it, with a huge front and back porch. I was surprised to find out it was quite modern, barely four years old. No one met me as I got out, and the first thing I noticed was the smell. It was clear, scented with the flowers and plants in the beds around the porch and it reminded me of my grandmother's house when I was five or six.

I didn't really have a firm appointment, he'd just specified sometime after noon, so I wasn't surprised when no one met me at the door. I was about to ring the bell again when I heard voices and two people came around the house. One was a girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen, I have no interactions with kids past talking to them at company picnics, or the child friendly Christmas party we have every year, so I had no basis to judge. I could tell she was pretty, past the gangling puppy stage, and starting to develop a woman's body, with big green eyes and blond hair so light it was almost white.

What shocked me was her companion. It was Shane, and he was wearing overalls! He had always been immaculately dressed, either casually in crisp jeans and a pullover, or in a designer suit tailored to his exact specifications. I wondered if he was a farmer now?

He and the girl stopped and stared for a second, and then he grinned. "Ah, there you are."

I glared at him, a lot of emotions bubbling up. "Not because I want to be. That was a pretty sneaky thing you did, Shane. Can we please get this over with so I can go back to my life and forget you ever existed?"

His grin never wavered, and I suddenly remembered how cool he could be under pressure. "Of course."

Then he looked at the child, "Missy, will you get us a couple of iced teas? I think we'll sit on the veranda, to enjoy the breeze."

"Yes, Daddy."

Daddy? When the hell had that happened? He saw my confusion and smiled. "I got the bonus package when I remarried. Please, sit."

He was up on the porch by then, indicating the deeply padded wicker furniture. It was surprisingly comfortable. The girl came out with a tray. "Cookies." She grinned. "I made them myself."

She gave Shane a hug and started down the steps, calling back over her shoulder that she was going to go to the barn. Then she stopped and looked me in the eye. "I'm sorry about Grandma Laurel, I loved her a lot."

Laurel was my mothers' name. I glared at Shane. "What was that about?"

His eyes got tight and I knew I had struck a nerve. "You don't get to talk about that, unless it's off the clock. Shall we begin?"

He made a show out of setting the timer on his phone.

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"Did you ever love me? Or did you love the idea of me, the faithful and loyal husband, always available as arm candy for your events, who you could boss around with impunity?"

"What the hell! Of course, I loved you. That's why it pissed me off so bad when you cheated on me. You knew that was a deal breaker. I couldn't let you get away with that!"

"I wasn't trying to get away with anything. It was pretty easy to spread the word, to make sure it got back to you."

I thought my blood pressure was gonna blow my head off. "You did it deliberately? You motherfucker! Did I mean that little to you?"

He looked incredibly sad for a second, before the small grin reappeared. "You meant the world to me the whole of our marriage, until the last few months. Do you ever know the name of the woman?"

"Claire Houston! I'll never forget the name of that slut!"

"And that name didn't ring a bell with you?"

"No, why the fuck should it?"

"Let me backtrack for a second. How about Nelson Houston? Is it coming back to you? Tall, blond, good looking, and according to you, the ability to fuck like a robot? He was her husband."

There was a sudden roaring in my ears. No one knew, and we were extremely careful. I recovered and took the offense, even though I knew I was going to lose. "What the hell are you talking about? The name isn't familiar to me."

He reached around the table and pulled out a folder. Flipping through until he found what he was looking for, then looked at me and... grinned. "Maybe the term Fuck Monkey will jar your memory. I have you calling him that on tape, and I can play it for you if you give me a second."

Tears leaked from my eyes. No one was ever supposed to know. I thought we covered our tracks well. I sighed. "I take it she was his wife?"

"Yes, and I'd still be the blind fool in love with you if she hadn't approached me. You were really slick, him, not so much. He fuckin' bragged about banging you, like it would improve his reputation among his business associates! Nobody believed him at first, so he took pictures. There's probably still a video of you blowing him floating around the internet somewhere. Might want to have Uncle Ben look into that; you can clearly see your face in it. Again, I have a copy, if you want to relive it."

I didn't exactly faint, but I lost all cognizance for a few seconds. When I could focus, it was on his face. He didn't look triumphant, or happy, in fact he looked really depressed. Then he shook himself, and despite my brain screaming at me not to, I started babbling.

"It's not what you think! I never meant to hurt you, and I tried my best to keep it away from us. It was only once or twice, and then I came to my senses! I almost confessed because the guilt was so strong, but even though I knew you would forgive me, but I didn't want to be the cause of your pain."

He looked at the folder again. "It was a minimum of nine months, if the reports are accurate, and I used your money to get the very best. And yet, while you knew I would forgive you, you didn't extend the same courtesy to me when my affair was exposed."