Hate at First Sight

After one of our meetings, I was startled to realize that Monica was probably the best friend I'd ever had in my life. I hadn't had a close girlfriend growing up, and this brilliant, beautiful, kind and honest blonde girl had made it obvious she thought I hung the moon. She was well on her way to becoming the sister I'd never had. When this was over and we could relax, we were going to have some great times together.

I had started to think of us as the Three Musketeers, battling Evil in our somewhat unorthodox way. I was spending ten to twelve hours a day putting together what we knew, figuring out what we needed next, and documenting everything for an airtight case against Silvio. Once a week, I turned myself into Silvio's defense attorney, and tried to find the holes in our case. My hatred for him hadn't abated a bit, but instead of a hot rage, I was coldly calculating, as Jopie taught me. Every now and then, I met with Devin Williams, just to keep him interested and show our foes I was playing nice. Jopie came through with physical evidence, catalogued everything, and documented the chain of custody. I had mostly stopped telling Monica specific things we needed: she knew the law now, and knew L&R's (we'd taken to calling them "Lousy & Rotten" between ourselves) finances like the back of her hand, so I trusted her to bring me what I needed.

I was meeting with Jopie late one afternoon. The case was almost finished: I was going to meet with Monica that evening, and if she came through as usual, I thought we would have everything we needed. I would turn defense attorney one more time, then go through everything once more with Jopie. If everything passed, we would give the Federal Prosecutor the best Christmas present of his life. We were discussing how to package and deliver it, when my phone rang. It was Monica, canceling our meeting. I didn't think much about it, until I told Jopie and saw the look on his face.

"Why?" The query snapped at me.

"She didn't say. Why, do you think something's wrong?"

"Yeah, Brookes, I always think something's wrong. That's why I'm still alive. Has she canceled on you before?"

She hadn't. As I thought about it, I began to be nervous as well. I knew her well, now, and I knew she had courage. I knew she hated Silvio as much as Jopie and I did. She knew how close we were to the finish line, and she wouldn't cancel without a good reason. Jopie told me to go home, and he'd try to find out what might be going on. I looked into his eyes; I saw the same worry and determination that I felt myself.

I had just gotten home when Monica called again. She had been asked to stay after closing to meet with one of the partners, and something didn't seem right to her. She was about to say something else when she whispered, "Someone's coming," and hung up.

This was serious. Monica knew who we were up against, and didn't scare easily. I was out of my apartment, into my car, and on my way downtown in about 90 seconds. I drive a hybrid. Now you might not think I'd get there very quickly, driving a hybrid, but you'd be very wrong. When you graduate at the top of your class from a top-ten law school, firms are falling all over themselves to recruit you. I got a huge bonus when I joined the firm. You probably wouldn't believe how huge if I told you. Well, it's none of your business. Anyway, I wanted to own a Porsche since I was old enough to know what a car was. I was one of the 297 lucky people in the US to get a 918, Spyder. It's powered by a 4.6 liter V8 that makes 608 horsepower. The hybrid part is two electric motors that give it an additional 279 horsepower. I can go from zero to sixty in two and a half seconds and I didn't stop at sixty. I called Jopie as I drove. "Trouble, L&R," was all I said. He was even briefer: "Yup."

I didn't get pulled over as I pulled every stop out, flying around corners and throwing myself into every turn. I parked in the block behind the main entrance of Latham & Revere and jumped out of my car. I saw no one as I made my way around to the front of the building.

They weren't being subtle. Four, no, five men in almost identical suits emerged from the front door, surrounding Monica. She was limping on one of her high heels. She didn't see me. Accidentally or on purpose, the other shoe buckled under her and was left on the ground. There was a break in the circle of thugs as they reacted.

"Run, Monica!" Our eyes met as she dashed toward me through the small break. She was about twenty yards from me when she stumbled slightly in her bare feet on the sidewalk. She didn't fall, but it slowed her enough for a couple of the goons to catch up to her. She screamed as they swept her legs out from under her and swung her up into the air. As they carried her away from me, the other three caught up.

My part was obvious: create enough havoc that they couldn't get away with Monica before Jopie and the cavalry showed up. My pleasure, thought I. I picked the goon on the end who was fumbling for some kind of weapon, led with my shoulder, hit him going full speed, and drove him into the ground. It was a textbook tackle, just like Dad taught me. His head made a sort of crunchy-squishy sound as it hit the pavement; I didn't think I'd have to worry about him anymore. I popped up, ready for more mayhem. Goon number two was turning around to face me. I remembered watching a football game on television with Dad, and seeing him cringe when it looked like one player intentionally took out another player's knee. He called the guy the dirtiest player in football. I'd practiced that move a few times. It's called a leg whip. I went down on my butt, got one leg in front of his and rolled, kicking him with everything I had in the knee. Nasty sounds happened in that knee and he went down. I kicked the knee again with my heel, and he was curled up in a ball. I made it to my feet, just in time to be caught from behind in a chokehold. Dad had demonstrated what I should do in that situation: head butt the guy in the face with the back of your head, as hard as you can. I went and did likewise, smiting them hip and thigh and two in the balls. The second thug I kicked in the balls crumpled. He was stronger than I thought, and as he went down, he got an elbow around my neck and took me down with him. I'm strong, too, though, and I head butted him until I got a clear shot at his balls. I took it, and jumped free.

I saw a half dozen guys come around the corner of the building, running full tilt for us. The cavalry. Stupidly, I waved and called to them instead of keeping my guard up. I felt a searing pain in my lower back and something crashed into the side of my head. Darkness filled my vision, and as they say, I took no further part in the proceedings.

I didn't know what was happening to me. There were flashes of strobe like intensity, like an old fashioned film, starting and stopping. I had brief glimpses of a bank of lights over me and people in blue masks bending over me. I saw Dad and Mom, sitting in chairs across the room, Mom's face glittering with tears, Dad's arm around her. I even thought I saw Talbot, his face etched with concern and imagined his lips on my forehead. The flashes began to last longer, and things finally began to swim back into focus. I tried to sit up, but some idiot had put a cloth belt across me. One of my arms was in a cast and the other was strapped to the bed with a bunch of tubes running into it.

I looked around as best I could. There was another bed in the room. It was occupied, but I couldn't make out who was in it. There were too many machines in the way and the person appeared to have as many tubes and wires attached to them as I did. Mom was sitting in the chair I had the memory of from before. Her eyes were closed and she looked drawn and worn. My beautiful little mother, sleeping in a chair in a hospital room nearly made me cry. I tried to say something, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. Her eyes snapped open and she leaped to her feet, hurrying to the side of my bed.

"Livingston, are you awake, sweetheart?" she asked, concern written in her warm brown eyes.

I croaked again. Well, this wasn't going as well as I'd hoped. My throat was as dry as a thousand year old mummy. "Drink!" I managed to gasp.

"No, you can't drink, baby," she said. "Here, suck on some of this ice."

She put a spoonful in my mouth from a Styrofoam cup, and I melted it on my parched tongue. The blessed coolness drizzled down my throat and I opened my mouth for more. She shoveled it in like I was a baby bird and I finally got a little relief.

"Mom, what happened?" I asked. "Where's Dad? Is Monica okay?"

"Yes, she's over there in the other bed," Mom nodded toward the festooned person. "Your father went to get something for us to eat and drink. He'll be back in a minute."

"How long have I been here?" I asked.

"Three days, honey," she said. "You talked to us a couple of times."

"What happened?" I asked her. "Why am I here?"

"You were stabbed, Livingston," she said. "You have a fractured skull and a broken arm. You're going to be okay, baby. You just need to get some rest and recover."

"What about Monica?" I asked.

"She's going to be okay, too," Mom said. "She just has some broken ribs, a concussion and some bruises and scrapes."

"Did the police get the guys that did this?" I asked.

"Yes, baby, but don't worry about that," she said. "That rude policeman has been here to see you several times. He's been talking to Monica. He's not as rude to her."

I wanted to laugh, but I had a terrible headache. "He's rude to everyone, Mom," I told her. "If he's rude to you, I'll punish him."

She gave a little chuckle. "He's a little afraid of your father."

"He should be," I said. "Mom, I'm really, really sleepy now. Would you mind..." I faded to black.

I slept for hours and days. Every time I woke up, I hurt, and the nurses would come and give me pain medication, which put me out again. I thought the cycle was never going to end. I don't know how many days that went on but finally I woke up and, although I still hurt, I didn't want any more drugs. I opened my eyes after a bit and Monica was sitting in the chair beside me.

"Hey, Wonder Woman," she said.

I had to laugh a little at that. "Wonder Woman is a white girl with giant tits," I told her. "I always pictured myself as a Selina Kyle."

She raised one immaculate eyebrow. The scrape over it ruined the look. "Cat Woman," I said.

She laughed. "Livingston, you can be any super heroine you want," she said. "You saved my life. You'll always be my hero."

"You doing okay?" I asked.

"I've been better," she said. "I'm getting out of here tomorrow. You're losing your roommate. You haven't exactly been a brilliant conversationalist, anyway."

She was funny! "What are you going to do?" I asked.

"I think they're going to make me disappear," she said.

"What about Talbot?" I asked. "Aren't you... don't you... he's in love with you."

She laughed. "What makes you think that?"

"Get real," I said. "I've seen the way he looks at you. He's crazy about you."

"No, he's crazy about you," she looked a little wistful.

"Why would he even look at me when he's got you?" I said. "I mean, look at you. You're the hottest, smartest, sweetest woman I've ever met. I'm about half in love with you, myself."

She laughed again. "Well, you should have seen him when we got to this room," she said. "I was awake and I saw it. He made the nurses bring him down in a wheelchair. He didn't even look at me. He got up out of that wheelchair and held you in his arms and sobbed his heart out." She smiled. "He just kept saying over and over again how sorry he was and that he's never going to let you go again. I practically had to scream at him to get him to even look at me. Then he just asked me all about what happened to you. I might as well have not been in the room."

I was stunned. I had been so sure they were in love and that I'd lost him. "Really?" my voice quavered quite a lot. I was not, not going to cry.

"Really," she said. A tear formed at the corners of those beautiful eyes. "I do love him, you know," she said. "He loves one of us, but it's not me. I'll never stand in the way of the love he has for you. He loved me as a fill-in, when he couldn't get you. He's loved you from the first day you met. I owe you my life, Livingston. Are you going to throw him away?"

I couldn't believe this woman! God, she made me feel like a wretch. I could feel my own eyes leaking. "No, Monica, I'm not. I don't know what to say. Do you know, I think I love you?"

Her breath caught in a sob and she was hugging me. "I love you, too," she said, her cheek against mine. "How could I not?"

"Monica... Monica... you're hurting my back." I hated to mention it, but it was excruciating!

She sat on the edge of my bed and cupped my cheek in her hand. "You're amazing," she said, laughing. "Here I am getting all mushy and your back is hurting."

"Yeah, well, getting stabbed in the back hasn't exactly been salubrious to my health," I said. She gasped and I hurried to correct the misapprehension. "Not you," I said. "Those assholes that were kidnapping you."

"Oh," she said. "Those. The guys you saved me from."

I took her hand and pressed it against my cheek. "Monica, don't disappear," I told her. "I need you. Stay here. You can stay with me. I'll hire 24-hour protection. All my life, I wanted a sister. My mother and father couldn't have children. That's why they adopted me. I always wanted them to adopt a sister for me, but they said I was enough for them. They wanted to lavish all their love on me. You could be my sister."

Tears were running down her cheeks again. "Livingston, there's nothing I'd like better, but I can't."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Don't you see?" she said. "I need my own life, Livingston. I can't be just an extension of yours. I'd see you and Talbot every day. I'd see how happy you were together and my soul would die a little every time I saw that."

"She's right, you know." I turned my head and Jopie was leaning against the doorjamb.

"What do you know?" I practically yelled at him. "You're a... a... man! You're a freaking policeman. You don't know shit!"

"I know she's right about this," he said, unperturbed at my emotion. "Look, you're a hell of a tough brave lady. I know that, you know that and Monica knows that. You don't have to keep proving it to everyone."

I wanted to curse at him, spit at him. "You don't know anything about me!" I snarled.

"Sure I do," his voice was gentle. "White roses, remember, Livingston?" I blushed and opened and closed my mouth several times. Nothing came out. "I know how hard you'd try," he said. "You'd kill yourself trying and you'd drive Talbot like a slave. No matter how hard you'd try, Monica would always feel like number two. She'd always be second fiddle. She's a hell of a woman, herself. Livingston, she deserves to be someone's number one. I've arranged for her to go somewhere, start her life over again. You've got to let her go."

"No, please, Monica," I was begging, unashamed and without remorse. "Don't go. We can make it work."

She leaned down and kissed me, her lips soft against mine. "I'm sorry, Livingston. I can't. Maybe in another life. Remember, don't sell yourself short. You're gorgeous; you're the most beautiful person I've ever met on the inside, too. Take care of Talbot."

She left me, holding out my hand with my face wet with my tears, Jopie in her wake. I got a tissue off my bedside table, dried my tears and blew my nose. I had just discarded the tissue when another voice spoke.

"Hello, pincushion," he said. "Been in any stabbings today?"

I sniffed. "No, not yet. Why? Was there someone you wanted stabbed? My knife is in my purse. Where is my purse?" I started to cry again.

He was beside me in a flash, pulling the pole with his IV on it behind him. His arms went under my head. He held it to his chest and whispered. "Don't cry, Livy. It's okay. I can't stand to see you cry. I've never seen you cry before."

"I'm not crying," I said. I sniffed. "Hand me a tissue, Talbot."

He got me one, but his left hand cupping my bandaged head never moved. I took the tissue and dabbed at my eyes. "It's okay to cry, sometimes," he said. "I've been crying, too. God, Livy, I thought I'd lost you and I never got a chance... I never... God, Livy, I love you so much and I thought you were going to die and I'd never get the chance to apologize and tell you I love you."

I dabbed at my eyes with the tissue. "Talbot, if you call me..."

He cut me off. "Take that tissue away from your face and hold still."

I dropped my hands. "Why?"

"Because I'm going to kiss you, now, Livy."

He did, and for the life of me, tied up to that bed like I was, I couldn't get away. I bowed to the forces of the universe and kissed him back. It went on for a long, long time, but something was wrong.

"Um, Talbot?" I murmured against his lips.

He pulled away a half an inch. "What?" he asked.

"You're pulling the bandage off my head," I told him.

A horrified look swept over his features and he jerked away. "Damn! I'm so sorry, Livy."

I grabbed him by his right ear. "Talbot!"

"Sorry, Livingston. If I don't tear off any bandages or hurt you, can I kiss you again?"

"No, I need to tell you something first," I said. "Sit down, Talbot."

He pulled the chair around and sat down where he could hold my hand. "Shoot," he said.

"Talbot, tell me why you've kept after me all these years."

He shrugged. "Easy," he said. "I've loved you since the day I met you."

I looked into those big brown eyes. "Me, too," I said.

A look of confusion passed over his face. "W... What?" he was stammering a little.

"Do you remember that first day when I started school with you?" I began. "I walked into art class and the only empty seat was at your table. You stood up and hugged me and introduced yourself to me. Do you remember?"

"How could I forget?" he asked. "You were the hottest girl I'd ever seen."

"That's the day I started falling in love with you," I told him. "You hugged me every day, no matter how many times I threatened you or told you to stop."

He looked at me, dumbfounded. "That can't be right," he said. "You hated me for years. I tried like hell to get you to like me but everything I did just pissed you off."

"That's what I wanted you to think," I said. "Talbot, you don't know me very well, because I never let you. I was afraid. You don't know what it was like for me. My birth mother didn't want me. She gave me to an orphanage. Talbot, I figured out some things recently. The reason I thought I hated you was that I was afraid of you. No, that's not right either. I was afraid of me. I have issues. I've always had trouble letting people get close to me. I've always been afraid that if I let people get close, they'd figure out what it was that was wrong with me, what made my birth mother give me away. I'm sorry, Talbot. It was never anything about you. It was me."

He looked at me for a long minute. "Livingston, that's the saddest thing I've ever heard," he said. "God damn! I can't imagine what it must have been like for you. I swear, that makes me love you more than ever. I just want to take that little girl in my arms and never let her go." His eyes twinkled. "The big one, too. Can I kiss you, now?"

He did. He obviously wanted to go farther than that, and I wanted just as badly to let him, but we both had so many wires and tubes and bandages it wasn't practical. So we practiced up on our kissing. We became very good at it, if I do say so myself.

I used to think that the world's fastest jungle telegraph and rumor mill was a girls' sleepover. I was wrong. It's a hospital. I was amazed how soon everyone from the stuffy pompous chief doctor down to the pimply-faced orderly knew that Talbot and I were in love. What's more, they all acted as if it was the best news they'd heard all month. It was beyond embarrassing. Talbot and I spent every moment we could together. We probably weren't supposed to, but the hospital staff seemed to turn a blind eye to us whenever we needed it. If I had to put up with a few knowing winks and smiles in return, hey, it was worth it.