The Thunderbolt

Rocky Santucci climbed out of his Tesla and walked past a hydrant on his way into his lawyer’s office, hurrying a bit to escape the August heat. He was looking down at his shoes, thinking he should have polished them. He didn’t see the woman who was approaching. He almost bumped into her. “Excuse me” she said. Her words were polite, her tone wasn’t. She might as well have said, “Watch where you’re going.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He looked at the woman and noticed she had one of those faces; not quite pretty, but somehow beautiful. As she moved toward the door he quickly opened it. Her hair was longish and carelessly resting on her shoulders. He couldn’t quite decide what color it was, as if it was trying to decide whether it was brown or gray.

She walked quickly down the long hall, passing doors on both sides of the narrow aisle. When she arrived at her destination, he realized she was visiting his lawyer. He followed her in and took a seat opposite hers. She picked up a magazine and scrolled through the pages. He was watching her closely now; he couldn’t help it. She seemed to have mesmerized him. Her look felt unique. She was wearing a faded denim dress and white sandals.

He picked up his phone and checked for messages. Then he turned on his camera and reversed the view so he could see himself. His black hair combed straight back was in place except for several strands that had a habit of sticking out over his ear. Casually, he pushed them back into place. He was wearing wire rimmed glasses, a gift he gave to himself for turning 40. Satisfied, he put his phone away. 

When he looked up at the woman he noticed she was looking him over. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Hi, looks like we have the same lawyer. My name is Rocky.”

Not wanting to be rude, she stifled a laugh. “Is that your name or a nickname?” She asked.

“Nickname I guess. My given name is Rocco.” He checked his watch. He had a two o’clock appointment. His lawyer, Cal Porter, was a stickler for being on time. It was only quarter to.

The woman noticed him checking the time. “I’m early. I have a 2:45 appointment. I’m Ellen, by the way.”

He nodded. “Are you here for the reading of a will? Closing on a dream home? Suing a fortune 500 corporation?”

“All of the above. How about you?”

“I represent the company that you’re suing. We plan to file a counter suit.”

She laughed and nodded. Her eyes showed some interest in him for the first time. “Maybe we can settle the suit right here and save on lawyer fees.”

“Will you settle for dinner at Elmo’s Diner? I’ll throw in your bus fare too.”

“I get to order whatever I want, including dessert.”

They really looked each other over then, neither of them sure what was happening. They could feel a certain chemistry. Attraction? Friendship?

The receptionist, Cara, suddenly appeared from the inner office. “Oh, Rocky! I must have lost track of time. Have you been waiting long?” She glanced down at her computer searching for the woman’s name. “Are you Ms. Casey?”

“Yes, Ellen Casey.” She smiled at Rocky, an acknowledgment that their engagement had been, unfortunately, interrupted.

“I have some paperwork for you to fill out, Mrs. Casey.” She handed Ellen a clipboard. Cara grasped the connection Rocco and Ellen were quickly wiring and it angered her. Cara was a former model, tall and still slender. She looked like she could still grace a narrow runway. She would make short work of this dowdy girl. She was out of her league.

Her phone rang. Cal Porter was not quite ready for Rocky. “He’ll be ready in five minutes, Rocco Santucci. It won’t take long. The agreement is finalized. You just have to sign it.” She gave him a pouty look and then quickly grinned. “I have to go back into his office for a minute,” she said. “You promised you’d take me to dinner. Don’t you dare say you forgot.” She winked at Ellen who smiled and winked right back. 

Rocky didn’t say a word. His dark eyes, suddenly ice cold, devastated Cara’s confident demeanor. She turned and opened the door to the inner office. Ellen was staring at him. She had a good idea why Rocky was there. Cal Porter was a well-known divorce attorney. “Well, it sounds like one of us is free,” she said.

“You too?” Rocky said, extending his hands, palms up.

“Me too. Just getting started, I’m afraid. I don’t suppose you and I could settle that matter at Elmo’s. It’s a shame, though. It would save so much time.” She laughed.

“And money.”

Rocky’s marriage had ended in an ugly fashion. That the divorce was finally at hand was a relief. His wife had told him while they were at a Predator’s hockey game that she wanted out. She wanted the house too, her Beamer and enough money so she could spend a couple of years writing a coming-of-age novel. He’d been shocked, but he chose not to fight her, perhaps a mistake. She interpreted his compliance as weakness and kept asking for more.

Cara returned to the reception area. “He’s ready for you, Rocky.”

He stood and quietly said to Ellen. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby. Late lunch or early dinner at Elmo’s works for me, ok?”

“Okay, but unless you’re a lawyer, I’d rather let Mr. Porter handle my divorce.”

Rocky’s work was completed in five minutes. Porter had managed to reduce the amount Mrs. Santucci requested. “No alimony my friend,” Porter said. Rocky was grateful.

Sitting at Elmo’s, Ellen and Rocky decided to order wine and split a club sandwich. In general terms, he told her about his marriage and the divorce settlement. Ellen told him her husband had a thing for online gambling and lost the house. When their cars were repossessed, the same week, she filed. She had a teenaged son who thought betting was better than working. Her husband didn’t discourage his son’s thinking.

They sat for a couple of hours and told their stories. They talked easily, exchanging banter as if they’d known each other for years. Ellen asked him about Cara. “Did you really promise to take her to dinner?”

“No, it was a joke. At least I thought so.”

“Apparently, she didn’t.”

Rocky just shrugged. He had no interest in Cara, but he didn’t want to be unkind.

When it was time to leave, they exchanged contact information and made a date for that Saturday night. As they walked to their cars, she said, “I’m sorry if I seemed rude when you almost knocked me over.”

Rocky laughed and took her hand. Ellen allowed it. “It was the other way around. You knocked me out as soon as I saw your face.”

Ellen blushed. “Mr. Porter says my divorce will be final in six months.”

Rocky gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Just in time for Valentine’s Day.”