“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 100% 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 I marched in. (And, yes, you read that correctly, I didn’t walk in, I marched.)
“No, you broke up with me by getting engaged to another woman!” I say, voice rising higher and higher with each word that comes out of my mouth. “It was only after you tried to humiliate me at my ex-boyfriend’s wedding that you even wanted me back.”
“That’s not true,” he says. “That’s not true at all. I realized that you were the one and so I came to the wedding as a romantic gesture.”
“If only that were true,” I say. “After I said ‘no,’ did you get back together with Beryl?”
Yes, Douglas broke up with me and got engaged to a woman named Beryl. I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that he was cheating on me or the fact that it was with a woman named Beryl.
“Right,” he says.
“Right,” I say back.
“Right.”
“Right,” I say, but then realize I have no idea what we’re even saying ‘right’ to anymore. In fact, I think that he’s saying ‘right’ to something completely different than what I’m saying ‘right’ to. And clearly, you want your ‘rights’ to be right. Right? “Wait? What are we even talking about here? Why are you suing me?!”
“Because you’re writing a movie about my life,” he says, hands folded neatly on top of his desk. Then, looking me dead in the eye he says: “What, you didn’t think I’d find out?”
And, no, the truth is: I didn’t think he’d find out. A tiny little part of me (the very, very stupid and naïve part, I’m now figuring out) thought that Trip and his wife could just make their little movie about my life quietly and no one would ever be the wiser. Not Douglas, and certainly not Trip.
But the more I think about it, I realize that this is all because of that clip on Entertainment Tonight. If Ava hadn’t gone on Entertainment Tonight to announce plans of this film, none of this would have happened! Douglas wouldn’t have found out that my ex-boyfriend was making a movie out of my life and he would never have sued me. This is all Nancy O’Dell’s fault! Damn you, Nancy O’Dell! Why do you have to be so damned perky and report the entertainment news so well?! That’s it—from now on, I am boycotting that show. Yes, from now on, I will only watch Access Hollywood! But, I digress.
“I’m not doing anything. How would I write a movie and get it produced? Why would I write a movie? I’m a lawyer,” I say. “It’s Trip. My ex-boyfriend Trip is writing the movie as a star vehicle for his wife, Ava. Remember Trip? If you’d just come with me to his wedding last spring, none of this would have ever happened.”
“Well,” he says, “according to Entertainment Tonight, it seems that I did come with you.”
“About that—” I start to say, only to be cut off by Douglas.
“I knew it! Trip still doesn’t know, does he?” Douglas asks. “He actually thinks that that silly American colleague of yours is me?” Douglas throws his head back and laughs with a deep throaty thunder, as if this concept is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. Which is ridiculous in of itself. You see, Douglas is laughing because he thinks that Jack is no match to impersonate him—that he, himself, is so fabulous that Jack isn’t fit to shine his shoes, much less pretend to be in them. When in reality, the opposite is true. Jack is the best thing to ever happen to me. Douglas, as it turned out in the end, was the worst. And Jack was my best friend through all of it. Through the fights and the heartbreak, Jack was always there for me. I’m just lucky, that after all these years, Jack and I finally ended up together.
“Jack,” I say to Douglas. “His name is Jack.”
“Well, whatever,” Douglas says, a sly smile creeping onto his lips. “I wonder what Trip will say when he finds out that Jack’s not me?”
“If you drop your lawsuit, I promise that I’ll tell Trip,” I say, and Douglas’s sly smile becomes a full blown grin.
“Well, I was hoping to get to court at least one time to see you in one of your cute outfits,” he says. Even though I never figured out exactly what it was that Douglas did for a living, he always found a way to diminish what I did for a living. Cute outfits for court? I’m a big time lawyer, for God’s sakes! Sometimes being so devoted to fashion really has its drawbacks.
“I’m leaving,” I say, getting up out of my chair.
“Wait,” Douglas says. “Sit down. Are you really going to tell Trip everything?”
“Is that what you want? To humiliate me once again? Dumping me mere minutes before my ex-boyfriend’s wedding wasn’t enough for you? Now you want me to confess to my ex that I was so desperate to keep my dignity ever so slightly intact that I made my best friend dress up and pretend to be you?”
“Well, yes, actually,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “That’s exactly what I want.”
Hmm…. Risk public humiliation at the hands of my ex-boyfriend or face a two million dollar lawsuit? The sort of quandary single girls everywhere must face on a daily basis.
“Fine,” I say, trying to plaster a fake smile onto my face. “If I tell Trip everything and completely humiliate myself, will you then drop the lawsuit?”
“Sure, Brooke,” he says, putting his hands behind his head. “Sure I will.”
“Shake on it?” I ask, thrusting my hand out for him to shake.
“I have a better idea,” Douglas says, and pulls my hand so that my body goes flying across his desk. I fall on top of his desk and try to use my other hand to get back up. “Now, this is more like it,” he says, leaning over me. “This is what I call a negotiation.”
“You disgust me,” I say, pulling away and struggling to stand upright. I straighten my suit and spin on my heel.
“You’ll come back, Brooke,” Douglas says as I walk out of his office. “You always do.”