The Ditto List by Stephen Greenleaf Read Free Book Online Page A

become accustomed?”
    She folded her hands and closed her eyes for a long time. “I’ve never really thought about it. The money was just there. For whatever I wanted.”
    â€œThree thousand? Four? Ten?”
    â€œThree, I should think.”
    â€œWe’ll go for five. Has your husband ever hit you? Slapped you around?”
    â€œNo. What do you think he is?”
    â€œA man who didn’t have the guts to warn you he was about to break your life in half. Do you sniff coke, Mrs. Stone?”
    â€œYou can’t be serious.”
    â€œWhy not? It’s evidently replaced milk as the world’s most perfect food.”
    â€œNo. Nothing like that.”
    â€œWell, we all have sins, Mrs. Stone. What are yours?”
    She laughed uneasily. “This is sort of like church, isn’t it?”
    â€œThis is nothing like church. How about it?”
    â€œYou first.”
    â€œMe? I bet sports with money I don’t have. I lie to my clients when they need it and sometimes when they don’t. I cheat on my girlfriend almost as much as she cheats on me. Let’s get back to you.”
    â€œWell, I cheat, too, as I said. I spend lots of money on worthless trinkets to punish Chas for neglecting me. I drink too much sometimes, and am honest when I shouldn’t be except when I pretend to like people I can’t stand. Does all that mean I won’t win my case?” She was almost giddy, momentarily forgetting what losing her case would mean.
    â€œHell, lady. In this office that makes you a saint. Now, how do you feel about your husband right this minute?”
    â€œHow do you mean?”
    â€œI mean if he comes around next week and talks nice, brings you a box of mints, apologizes for taking all the money, and offers to stick his cock in you again, what are you going to do? Think about it.”
    It took her three seconds. “I’m going to cut the crooked son of a bitch off and fry it up for breakfast.”
    D.T. clapped his hands. “Hot damn, Mrs. Stone. I think we’re about to have some fun. Here. Sign these forms.”
    â€œBut they’re blank.”
    â€œNot for long.”
    â€œIs that legal?”
    â€œDon’t worry about it.” He gave her his pen.
    After scratching out her name, Mareth Stone stood up and shouldered her purse and looked at him. “Do whatever has to be done, Mr. Jones.”
    â€œLucky for you that’s my Golden Rule, Mrs. Stone,” he said, and then leaned back in his chair. “Right about here I usually tell my clients to relax, to leave it all to me, that everything will be all right. But I don’t think I’m going to tell you that.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œBecause I’m afraid you might believe me.”
    â€œBut I’m fine. Really.”
    â€œThat’s what I mean. You don’t even know what’s happened to you yet. Some time or other you’re going to crash. It may be tonight, it may be a year from tonight. You’ll feel alone, cheated, wronged, guilty, worthless, and ashamed, and you’ll be a little bit right about all of it, but it won’t help. You’ll be very depressed, so depressed you can’t move, can’t get dressed in the morning, can’t eat, nothing. One of my clients stayed in bed for twelve days. Pissed and shit and everything, right there on the old Posturepedic. Luckily they found her before …”
    â€œI won’t do anything like that. Good Lord. I …”
    â€œLet me finish. When it happens, friends can be a help. So can family. So can I, a little, and I know some people who can help you a lot more. Counselors. Support groups. Shrinks. You can call me any time. Here’s my card. Put it by the phone. Call me day or night. I mean it. Okay?”
    â€œOkay. But I don’t do things like that, Mr. Jones. I really don’t.”
    She was so convincing he knew better than to believe her.

THREE
    Mareth