Substitutions

Chapter 11: Divorce Date {Kayla}

Kayla

It was 1:15, and I had five minutes until I met with the divorce lawyers. Deans was running late, I supposed. I'd worn slacks and a nice blouse, but I didn't feel right. How did one dress up to get a divorce? Was there a dress code for such a drab occasion? The secretary motioned for me to come forward, and I did so.

"Mr. Lowell will see you now," she said. "Is the defendant coming?"

"Defendant?"

"When a couple divorces, the party that initiates is the plaintiff and the other person is the defendant," the plaintiff explained with a bored tone. "Our legal system rewards the dumpers, I suppose."

"Oh," I said. "Today is actually a preliminary meeting. I need legal counsel, but my husband is out of town."

"Divorcing him while he's away on business?"

"While he bangs his mistress at a resort," I said.

Suddenly her bored eyes grew wide.

"I have it noted here that a Dean McKay will be joining the meeting."

"Yes, but he is late." I said curtly. "He has a separate case to file."

"Is he your boyfriend?" The secretary asked bluntly.

"Is this conversation confidential?"

"Naturally, Mrs. Stanton."

"He's not my boyfriend," I laughed. "Dean is married to my husband's mistress. Our spouses are sleeping together, and we've sort of become friends over the experience."

"Well then," she smirked. "Mr. Lowell is right inside."

"Thank you," I said.

I walked inside to see a man in a suit. Surprisingly, he was younger than I had expected. He was a taller man, who blonde with some grey hairs peeking through the curls. He turned around and my breath caught; the only thing more brilliant than his green eyes was his smile.

"Mrs. Stanton," he said. "My, it's so lovely to meet you."

He extended his hand, and I took it. His grip locked onto my fingers, making my hands seem like doll parts because they were smaller. He had to be about forty, but I felt my face flush. Why did I keep finding myself attracted to older men suddenly?

"I wish I could say the same," I stammered. "I imagine you meet a lot of distressed clients."

"Possibly," he chuckled. "A lot of people are just ready to start fresh."

"May I sit?"

"Yes, of course," he said, his eyes dipping down as I sat. Was he checking me out?

"So, how does this work?" I asked.

"First, we discuss payment," he said. "It's not a nice conversation. Basically, I tell you my rates. This consultation is free, naturally. If you can't afford me, I can refer you. I know a lot of lawyers in need of pro bono work, but I use my pro-bono case to work with the local women's shelters."

"Oh wow," I said. "That's noble."

"So, here are my rates," he said, pulling out a piece of paper.

"I can pay anything, but you have to wait," I said. "My story is a bit...complicated."

"Complicated? You're too young for complicated. You're what, twenty-four?"

"Twenty-seven," I replied. "May I explain?"

"Please do," He smiled. He was definitely flirting.