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."