Your Bed or Mine? (3 page)

Marriage made a mockery out of me.

Judge Parkins’s gaze turned toward Rick. “We’ve all heard how devoted you are to providing homeland security for the country
you so dearly love, Mr. Clark,” he said.

He looked back at Zada. “And we’ve heard how devoted you are to helping disabled children everywhere with your uplifting and
motivational children’s books.”

Parkins templed his fingers in front of him. “We’ve also heard in great detail how important it is to both of you, that the
blind dog you both love so dearly, stays in the house that was specifically designed so the dog could function at a normal
level.”

He shook his head disgustedly.

“What I find insulting,” he said, “is that both of you have more passion for your careers and your blind dog, than you do
for the very person you promised to love, honor, and cherish until death do you part.”

Ouch!

Those words hit home faster than a speeding bullet.

Zada winced as the words pierced her heart.

“Has it crossed either of your minds,” Parkins asked, looking at her, then back at Rick, “that if you’d given your marriage
the same level of commitment you’ve given to your dog and your careers, you wouldn’t be appearing before me in divorce court
now?”

Double ouch!

Slumping any lower simply wasn’t possible.

“Instant gratification,” Parkins said and smiled. “That’s at the top of everyone’s list today.”

His overtly smug smile didn’t cheer Zada.

“People expect instant gratification from their employers, or they throw in the towel and get another job. People expect instant
gratification in their marriages, or they throw in the towel and get another spouse. And rather than take time out of their
busy schedules to work out their problems themselves, people have even come to expect instant gratification in a court of
law.”

The smile disappeared.

“But in my courtroom,” Parkins said, “the only person entitled to instant gratification is
me.
”

He looked at Zada, then back at Rick again.

“Let me assure you,” he said, “nothing will gratify me more than the decision I’m making in this case today.”

Crap! Here it comes.

Zada held her breath.

Judge Parkins closed the file in front of him and looked around the courtroom with authority.

“Let the record reflect that the petitioner and the respondent have ninety days to settle the property dispute between them.”

He looked over the bench at both attorneys. “Don’t show up in my courtroom again without this matter being settled.”

Down came the gavel.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Only ninety days?

To reach a compromise?

Try ninety freaking years!

Except, even ninety years, Zada feared, was laughable.

“
B
ut, but,” Zada stuttered, looking over at Angie. “A judge can’t delay a divorce just to prove a point! Can he?”

“He just did,” Angie said.

Zada said, “But Rick and I will never be able to reach a compromise, Angie. Not in ninety days. Not ever. What happens when
we don’t reach a compromise at the end of ninety days? Can Judge Parkins throw us in jail for contempt of court?”

“Technically, no,” Angie said. “But that doesn’t mean Parkins can’t come up with some other charge that could land you in
jail. Don’t chance it, Zada. Do what the man says, or you’ll be trading in your all-about-me dress for a not-so-flattering
prison jumpsuit.”

Angie grabbed her briefcase and left the courtroom.

Zada hurried after her.

“But we can appeal,” Zada said. “Right?”

Angie didn’t answer.

She grabbed Zada by the arm and led her down the corridor. When they were a safe distance away from the courtroom, Angie pulled
her aside, out of the busy stream of human traffic coming and going in the hallway.

“You can appeal all you want, Zada,” Angie said. “But get yourself a new attorney. There’s no way I’m going to piss Judge
Parkins off further by filing an appeal.”

Zada gasped. “You’re firing me as your client?”

“No, I’m advising you as your attorney to take Judge Parkins’s ruling seriously. Stop playing first grade, Zada. Accept Rick’s
offer. I told you when Rick made the offer to buy you a place of your own, he was being more than generous. Even if you forced
him into selling the house, the equity you’ve built up over the last eighteen months is minimal. Take Rick’s offer. It’s your
only choice.”

“No way!” Zada shook her head stubbornly. “Rick is the one who didn’t have the guts to stick it out and make our marriage
work. Not me. Why should
I
be punished when
he
was the one who walked out?”

Angie looked at her thoughtfully for a second.

“You still love him, don’t you?”

“Love doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Zada vowed. “I want my divorce!”

“Then act like it,” Angie said. “Break your silly vow of silence and have that long overdue talk with Rick. Tell him what
you just told me. That you don’t think it’s fair for you to be punished by giving up your home and Simon, when he was the
one who walked out of your marriage.”

Zada rolled her eyes.

“Telling Rick how you feel isn’t a sign of weakness, Zada,” Angie said, reading her mind. “You certainly had no trouble telling
Judge Parkins how you felt a few minutes ago. If you’d kept your mouth shut like I told you to do, he might have signed your
divorce decree today.”

“Oh, please,” Zada scoffed. “The old poop already had his nuts in a knot before I said the first word.”

“You think Judge Parkins had his nuts in a knot a few minutes ago?” Angie laughed. “Then try not reaching a compromise in
the ninety days he’s given you to settle your property dispute with Rick. Trust me, Zada. You don’t want to go there.”

Zada tossed her long, dark hair defiantly. “Nor do I intend to go anywhere else to live. Except in
my
house. With
my
dog.”

Angie shrugged. “Fine. But I’ve done all I can do for you. It’s going to be up to you to reach a compromise with Rick.”

Speak of the devil.

Rick had just walked out of the courtroom.

His back was to Zada, but it was evident he was in a heated discussion with his attorney.

Angie followed Zada’s gaze.

She looked back at Zada and smiled.

“Let’s stick around for a few minutes,” Angie said. “If I know Bob Thompson, his nuts are in a knot, too. The smug bastard
thought he had this case nailed down tight. Now he’ll have to come up with a plan B.”

Something in the way Angie said “smug bastard” made Zada ask, “And just how well do you know Bob Thompson?”

“Bob Thompson can eat poison and die for all I care,” Angie said, lifting her obviously woman-scorned chin.

“And how shallow is that?” Zada teased.

Angie mumbled something about where Zada could go.

The destination
wasn’t
back home to her eight-hundred-thousand-dollar doghouse in the suburbs.

“Thanks a hell of a lot, Bob. For nothing,” Rick said disgustedly. “I believed you when you said the judge would rule in my
favor. What am I supposed to do now? You even encouraged me to give up my apartment this morning!”

Bob ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “I swear, Rick,” he said, “I’m as shocked as you are. I’ve never appeared before
Judge Parkins when he didn’t rule in my favor.”

Rick exploded. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? That I’m your first lost case in Parkins’s courtroom?”

“Not a loss,” Bob corrected. “More of a tie, if you want to be technical about it.”

“Bullshit,” Rick said. “We lost, Bob. Reaching a compromise with Zada in ninety days, is as likely as achieving peace in the
Middle East in ninety days. It isn’t going to happen.”

Bob frowned. “What are you saying, Rick? That you’re willing to give up? That you’re going to let Zada keep the house and
Simon? Jesus. That’s not the Rick Clark I know.”

“Spare me your Fighting Irish speech,” Rick groaned. “We’re not on the football field.”

“You’re right. We’re not on the football field,” Bob said. “We’re standing in the hallway of the courthouse while I’m trying
to keep you from losing your ass.”

Rick didn’t comment.

“Come on, Rick,” Bob urged. “Can’t you think of anything that might make Zada change her mind and give you the house?”

Rick laughed. “Short of me moving back in? No.” Bob looked at him for a second.

The wide grin that followed said he had an idea.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Rick said. “I’ve seen that grin before. It always means trouble.”

Bob said, “Do you really think Zada would move out if you moved back in?”

“Don’t even think in that direction,” Rick warned. “There’s no way I’m putting myself or Zada through the nightmare of trying
to live together again.”

Bob said, “Not even if it means keeping Simon and the house?”

When Rick hesitated, Bob said, “It can’t hurt to at least threaten to move back in. Who knows? Maybe that’s all it will take
to make Zada reconsider and move out.”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Rick said, shaking his head. “You saw Zada’s performance in the courtroom. Zada never backs down from
anything.”

“Zada’s performance in the courtroom is the reason you’re standing in the hallway now with no place to live,” Bob reminded
him. “If it weren’t for her, you’d be heading out the door to start your
new
life in your
old
house.”

Rick sighed. “Maybe. But I doubt Zada was totally responsible for the ruling. Parkins was already upset that we hadn’t reached
a property settlement.”

“Zada’s outburst still didn’t help matters,” Bob insisted. “And I wouldn’t be a good attorney if I didn’t use her outburst
completely to our advantage.”

Bob looked down the corridor and grinned again.

Rick turned around.

Zada.

Standing farther down the hallway with her attorney.

And
staring right at him.

“I’ll go break the news that you’re moving back in,” Bob said. “Give me a few minutes, then you show up to back up my threat.
And really play it up, Rick. Make Zada cringe at the thought of you moving back into the house with her.”

“Dammit, Bob, wait!” Rick called out.

Too late.

Linebacker Bob was already charging down the hallway in
touchdown
mode, straight in Zada’s direction.

“Here comes plan B,” Angie said and nodded at Rick’s attorney who was hulking down the hallway toward them. “Just don’t let
Bob intimidate you with his super-jock attitude,” Angie added. “He forgets sometimes that his college football days are over.”

Zada looked Rick’s attorney over with cold regard.

Bob Thompson might as well have been chanting
Win! Fight! Win!
as he charged down the hallway toward them.

“And don’t expect a miracle,” Angie said as he got closer. “Bob wouldn’t give in that easily. He’s probably going to increase
the amount Rick is willing to spend on buying you a new house or condo. His way of enticing you to give up the house in Woodberry
Park.”

“Then he’s wasting his breath,” Zada said, crossing her arms stubbornly across her chest. “I don’t give in that easily, either.”

But that was before Rick walked up behind his attorney.

Before Rick was standing only a few feet away.

Before brooding blue eyes drew her in like a magnet.

No! No! No!

She was not going to give in to that mind-boggling power Rick had over her. That unexplainable can’t-live-without-him feeling.
That desperate feeling had been her biggest downfall—one she didn’t intend to succumb to again.

The power Rick had over her was the main reason she’d refused to see or talk to him during their entire six-month separation
period. She just couldn’t trust herself in Rick’s presence. Her heart overruled her head every time.

If she couldn’t win the game, she simply wouldn’t play.

First grade?

Yes.

But Angie’s earlier accusation about her playing first grade was really rather ironic, when Zada thought about it.

She’d just started first grade when her father walked out and put a quick end to her happy childhood. Had her mother not fallen
into a deep depression, blaming herself because her father had left them for another woman, Zada might not have been so devastated
herself. But having to take care of herself and her baby sister while her mother stayed in bed for days on end, had taught
Zada a very valuable lesson at the ripe old age of six: The only person you can truly depend on in this life, is yourself.

A hard lesson for any six-year-old to learn, true. But a useful lesson, nonetheless.

She had always been able to take care of herself. Just as she could buy her own damn house or condo.

And I don’t need Rick Clark to buy one for me!

Bob Thompson stopped in front of them, his six-foot-four frame towering over even Zada, who was five inches taller than petite
five-foot-two Angie. He looked at Angie and smiled. But Zada didn’t miss the blood in his eye.

“I’m afraid your client’s outburst in the courtroom is going to cost you, Miss Naylon,” Bob told Angie.

Angie shrugged nonchalantly. “And your point is?”

“My point is,” Bob said, “that your client’s rude behavior has left my client in an extremely unfortunate predicament. He
gave up his apartment this morning.”

Intimidated, Angie wasn’t.

She took a brave step in the big bully’s direction.

“That’s
your
problem, Mr. Thompson,” Angie said, and flashed him a sweet little screw-you smile. “Your client’s unfortunate predicament
is of no importance whatsoever to my client.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Bob said, flashing exceptionally white teeth right back at her. “Since the judge didn’t
rule in anyone’s favor today, that means the house is still joint property. And since the house is still joint property, my
client is going to exercise his right to move back into the house this very afternoon.”