overwhelming, did you? Don't you worry, you'll get used to it. We'll be such a team. We'll be having the old office in no time. Did I tell you I had a view of Chanel in the old days? They used to know me in there. For Christmas all my lady clients received a bag from Chanel. Those days will come again.''
Gerry O'Doul leaned across his desk, his face alight; those narrow shoulders of his were ready for some weight.
'' It's all about style, Kathleen. Style and character and brains. You have all three. I will make the rain, together we'll make the strategy and I'll send you off to adventures in the law that you have only dreamed of. It can happen, Kathleen. I know it can. You must believe, too. You must.''
'' But Uncle Gerry…'' With that feeble attempt at objection, the door flew open with such force it sent the pictures on the wall ashivering.
Kathleen twirled in her chair, spilling some of her champagne on her new dress. Gerry didn't move even though it sounded like California's plates were on the skids. Kathleen's last thought of Gerry O'Doul was that, on top of everything else, he must be hard of hearing. Then Kathleen Cotter stopped thinking altogether as her senses were assaulted by the images and colors and sounds that made up the formidable presence of Louise Booker.
CHAPTER TWO
'' You've got to do something, Gerry. Whatever it is you gotta do, I want it done now. Got it? Go to court. Sue those bastards at the insurance company. I want you to grind 'em to a pulp. I want you to chew 'em up and spit 'em out.''
Kathleen snorted. The image of Gerry O'Doul chewing anything other than three minute eggs was a funny one. She quieted when Louise Booker gave her a look that would curdle milk. Louise stormed into the office and Kathleen twirled around just in time to see the woman plant herself beside Gerry's desk. Not only was Gerry cool under fire, he seemed to sit a little taller in his chair as if energized by the woman's fury. He looked at the banshee with the seriousness of a judge, as if a word out of those generous lips was of the utmost import. The lady - and Kathleen used the term lightly - put her large hands on the desk, fingers splayed. Kathleen was mesmerized.
Her nails were painted the palest pink. Small diamonds, implanted on each talon-like tip, twinkled from all except for the middle one. A marvelous miniature of Elvis Presley, resplendent in his white jumpsuit, was painted on that one. Those nails seemed strange on a woman who reminded Kathleen of a bull terrier. Her chest came into the room well before she did. Big, broad shoulders were thrown back to hold up the whole shebang. The top half of her body was precariously perched atop nonexistent hips and the skinniest legs Kathleen had ever seen. Louise was an inverted triangle curiously balanced on big feet which were crushed into a pair of high heeled, platform, patent leather slides. On her back was a white leather jacket studded with a rainbow of faux jewels that matched the ones on her nails. Her skirt was leather, too but this was the kind that goes from cow's carcass to yours for $29.95. Her hair was big, her mouth was wide, her eyes were small and Gerry O'Doul's attention was all hers.
'' Louise, Louise, my dear girl. What brings you here in such a state? Sit down. Sit down properly in a chair.''
Two lovely roses of color bloomed on the apples of Gerry's cheeks as he came 'round the desk. Graciously he held the chair next to Kathleen. Louise looked at it, then gave Kathleen the once over as if she expected her to move. Kathleen couldn't have moved if she wanted to, and she didn't want to. The woman sat in the chair Gerry held, albeit reluctantly.
'' I thought you were Melanie Griffith, for a minute. You're not,'' Louise sniffed. The truth of that meant Kathleen was of no more interest. The lady opened her mouth and Kathleen could swear she saw words forming deep in that cavern. ''Gerry, they turned me down. They won't give me my money! Look at
Gerry O'Doul leaned across his desk, his face alight; those narrow shoulders of his were ready for some weight.
'' It's all about style, Kathleen. Style and character and brains. You have all three. I will make the rain, together we'll make the strategy and I'll send you off to adventures in the law that you have only dreamed of. It can happen, Kathleen. I know it can. You must believe, too. You must.''
'' But Uncle Gerry…'' With that feeble attempt at objection, the door flew open with such force it sent the pictures on the wall ashivering.
Kathleen twirled in her chair, spilling some of her champagne on her new dress. Gerry didn't move even though it sounded like California's plates were on the skids. Kathleen's last thought of Gerry O'Doul was that, on top of everything else, he must be hard of hearing. Then Kathleen Cotter stopped thinking altogether as her senses were assaulted by the images and colors and sounds that made up the formidable presence of Louise Booker.
CHAPTER TWO
'' You've got to do something, Gerry. Whatever it is you gotta do, I want it done now. Got it? Go to court. Sue those bastards at the insurance company. I want you to grind 'em to a pulp. I want you to chew 'em up and spit 'em out.''
Kathleen snorted. The image of Gerry O'Doul chewing anything other than three minute eggs was a funny one. She quieted when Louise Booker gave her a look that would curdle milk. Louise stormed into the office and Kathleen twirled around just in time to see the woman plant herself beside Gerry's desk. Not only was Gerry cool under fire, he seemed to sit a little taller in his chair as if energized by the woman's fury. He looked at the banshee with the seriousness of a judge, as if a word out of those generous lips was of the utmost import. The lady - and Kathleen used the term lightly - put her large hands on the desk, fingers splayed. Kathleen was mesmerized.
Her nails were painted the palest pink. Small diamonds, implanted on each talon-like tip, twinkled from all except for the middle one. A marvelous miniature of Elvis Presley, resplendent in his white jumpsuit, was painted on that one. Those nails seemed strange on a woman who reminded Kathleen of a bull terrier. Her chest came into the room well before she did. Big, broad shoulders were thrown back to hold up the whole shebang. The top half of her body was precariously perched atop nonexistent hips and the skinniest legs Kathleen had ever seen. Louise was an inverted triangle curiously balanced on big feet which were crushed into a pair of high heeled, platform, patent leather slides. On her back was a white leather jacket studded with a rainbow of faux jewels that matched the ones on her nails. Her skirt was leather, too but this was the kind that goes from cow's carcass to yours for $29.95. Her hair was big, her mouth was wide, her eyes were small and Gerry O'Doul's attention was all hers.
'' Louise, Louise, my dear girl. What brings you here in such a state? Sit down. Sit down properly in a chair.''
Two lovely roses of color bloomed on the apples of Gerry's cheeks as he came 'round the desk. Graciously he held the chair next to Kathleen. Louise looked at it, then gave Kathleen the once over as if she expected her to move. Kathleen couldn't have moved if she wanted to, and she didn't want to. The woman sat in the chair Gerry held, albeit reluctantly.
'' I thought you were Melanie Griffith, for a minute. You're not,'' Louise sniffed. The truth of that meant Kathleen was of no more interest. The lady opened her mouth and Kathleen could swear she saw words forming deep in that cavern. ''Gerry, they turned me down. They won't give me my money! Look at
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