She, Myself & I Read Online Free PDF

shreds during his deposition. But such was the lot of the divorce attorney—if you only agreed to represent clients who were gracious and kind and all-around nice people, you’d quickly starve.
    “Mr. Hector. I think that we should be realistic. You don’t have a choice about the child support. Under Texas law, you’re required to pay an amount set by statute each month. The house would fall under community property, so if we can’t offset the value, we’ll argue that the house should be sold and the proceeds divided between you and Mrs. Hector. However, I should let you know that she would like to retain possession of the house until your youngest child leaves for college,” I began.
    “What? No friggin’ way! That would be eighteen years! If anyone should get the friggin’ house, it should be me. And I don’t see why I should have to split anything with that bitch,” Mr. Hector fumed.
    I indulged in a brief fantasy of leaping across the table and stabbing Mr. Hector in the eye with my silver Tiffany pen. But since I wasn’t quite yet ready to be carted off to jail, I instead snapped the cap onto my pen, closed my leather folio, and abruptly stood up.
    “What, are we done already?” he asked.
    “Yes, I have another client waiting for me. But I’ll talk to Mrs. Hector’s attorney tomorrow, and get back to you next week on how the negotiations are going. Wait here, and I’ll have my assistant bring you those documents after she photocopies them,” I said, and then smoothly exited the room before Mr. Hector could launch into another tirade about how he shouldn’t have to pay for his children’s health insurance or make yet another disgusting innuendo about how much of a ladies’ man he was.
    I couldn’t bear spending one more minute with him. Hector—and every other divorced man out there like him—was just one more reason why I was never going to get emotionally involved with a man ever again. Just thinking about it made my stomach churn with anger, and my skin felt hot and stretched too tightly over my face.
    Men, I thought. Cheating, lying, shitty, asshole men. Every last one of them.
    I closed the door of the conference room tightly and then paused, trying to collect myself. There was no reason to let John Hector get to me. Yes, he was a repulsive individual, but I’d dealt with clients just like him—worse even—for years, and I’d never let any of them get to me before. The only way to make it in this business was to keep a clearly defined distance from the work. You don’t befriend your clients, and you also don’t waste energy fantasizing about attacking them Ninja-style.
    “Will you please bring Mr. Hector his papers and then see him out, Sue?” I asked, pausing by the desk of my wonderfully efficient assistant to pick up my messages.
    “Sure will. And Mr. Duncan is waiting for you in your office,” Sue said perkily.
    Sue sported a year-round tan and wore her spiky hair short and burgundy red. She was the peppiest person I’d ever known—everything was always great, wonderful, chirp, chirp, chirp.
    “Duncan? Who’s that?”
    “He’s a new client, something to do with a custody issue. He said he was referred by Sophie,” Sue said, reading from the notes she’d recorded on the computerized calendar.
    “Sophie . . . ,” I repeated, and then glanced through the window of the door to my office. It was Sophie’s carpenter, Zack. He was sitting at an angle, his back to the door, so I could only see a profile of his face, highlighted by the afternoon sun that streamed in.
    The annoying winker, I thought, my heart sinking. Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.
    Zack turned suddenly and looked over his shoulder.
    “Oh no. Oh God,” I said, and jumped back.
    “What’s wrong?” Sue asked, staring at me.
    “It’s just . . . do you have a mirror?”
    Sue rummaged through her purse. “Yes, here. And you’d better take this lipstick, too. He’s really