Friends Four Life

Gill: A Girl Friend

by Jill M I

 

To have a good friend is one of the highest delights of life; to be a good friend is one of the noblest and most difficult undertakings. - Anonymous

 

Prologue

They call me Jill.

Having changed so much the past two years, I needed a new name. Two weeks ago I bought a book of names. Sliding my finger down the risk I stopped at Gill. It means girl friend. Leaving behind the mental image of fishing, Gill is quite pretty.

Fish oil is a fixative for expensive perfumes. A Gill by any other name would still smell as sweet as a rose. Gill is appropriate given my new status. Gill: a girl friend.

Gill it is. Gill: pronounced as in Gill…ette… with a French soft 'j'. I look sharp… and I feel sharp, too!

Although Gill has been recently christened, she’s been with me for as long as I can remember. She’s to be with me permanently.

I sit at my dressing table, covered in silk and satin, my mind meandering through the twist and turns from Jim to Jill to Gill. I have time to reflect as I do my nails in hue more suitable to traveling. There was a time when painting my nails required full concentration. With thousands of repetitions, the brush strokes have become sure and automatic.

This is the life I’ve chosen… with some coercion and a great deal of help from my friends.

 

Chapter One

Who Wants To Be ‘It’

"As we see it Jim, you have very little choice. Do exactly what we tell you… or, we file suit. The scandal will ruin your marriage and career. You're going to pay for embarrassing us… the way you did the night of the ‘Taste of France’."

Looking across the living room at Debbie, Sarah and Anne I realize how badly I misjudged them.

I don’t often misjudge people. My career’s been built on quickly assessing other’s abilities. I fought my way up the ladder to a $200,000-a-year job by accurately determining how much I can get other people to do for me. Judging by their opening remarks, it appears I could pay a steep price for using these three.

Warren Buffett purchased what is still his home on Farnam Street 40 years ago for $31,000. My house is a short distance away from his. It cost 40 times that amount. We’re struggling under the mortgage. I love the pressure! So what if I habitually work overtime? So what if occasionally I manipulate people. I’m good to my people! These three don’t appreciate the fine line between motivation and manipulation. They should know… every once in a while you have to do something you don’t want to do, something you might even fear, to move ahead.

Debbie, Sarah and Anne all report to me. We were partners at one time. The four of us worked together for a large corporation before creating our own company. Within two years, it became a very profitable business. We attracted the attention of National Corporation. They paid us what we thought was a lot of money to sell out and work for them.

I’m in charge our division. It now employs just over 100 people. We’re located in northwest Omaha. Although we aren't lawyers, we dispense legal advice. We act as out-source paralegals for small law firms. We research the law for attorneys lacking adequate time or staff.

My people have agile minds. They’re very good at creating esoteric answers and pinpointing legal posits.

Debbie, 33, is the motherly type. She’s been through a messy divorce. Her first husband was ruined by cocaine. Once members of the jet set, they lost their home and their love. She moved two states away and married the first man that would have her and her three year-old girl. Debbie is very attractive… in a high school cheerleader / gone den-mother type of way. She dresses with style… a throwback to the good times of her first marriage. Lots of Brooks Brother’s and Ann Taylor's in her closet. She’s the closest to me in age and opinion.

Sarah, 29, is a tough-ass woman… real earthy… already a confirmed spinster. She knows how to have a good time. In her late teens, she rode with some fairly rough bikers. She can surprise you with her intelligence and sensitivity. I call her ‘Fergie’ when she’s out of earshot or when I want to get her goat. Sarah doesn’t always react well to teasing. A sign over her desk says, "Whatever women do - they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult."

Anne, 27, and also single, is just five years out of college. She is very intelligent and has moved to the top quickly. Her fantastic body and long golden hair draw instant attention. Anne dresses like Erin Brockovich… leaving little to the imagination. Ironically, she teaches Sunday school and most likely is still a virgin.

A few weeks ago, I decided to entertain our clients. We rented a large banquet room and had caterers serve an elaborate French meal. Some of the top execs came in from Boston. To provide the final touch, I had Debbie, Sarah and Anne serve champagne to our clients dressed in very skimpy French maid outfits.

My immediate supervisor with National Corporation, Tony Warran, flew in for our soiree. When I received a copy of his trip report I was pleased to see he thought the ‘Taste of France’ was a great idea. He’s suggesting similar parties with other subsidiaries of National Corporation. According to him, everyone enjoyed himself. Evidently the night offered unique opportunities for him to get to know people.

Tony and I get along okay. I’ve heard some things about him that really bother me, but we can work together. At 41, he’s five years older than me. He loves to party. Other than his ability to go for the jugular when he has an advantage, he’s a bit light as a businessman. Tony’s a throw back to the time of three martini lunches. He’s the ‘master negotiator’ for the company. As Sarah put it, "Tony’s very good at dangling the bait and landing the fish… a master-baiter!"

The girls and I laugh at his outdated attitudes and his ever-present wing tips.

They girls made some initial fuss over their costumes. I dismissed their challenge to my authority as ‘protesting too much’. Every woman wants to dress sexy whenever she can. Or, so I thought.

"Now that you bring it up… Maybe… I guess I was… probably… a little insensitive."

"A little ‘insensitive’!" snapped Debbie. "Try ‘totally without a clue’. You’re an absolute bastard. You reduced us to serving girls… whores!!! …in the eyes of our most important clients… not to mention our subordinates."

It might have been better had I not invited the entire office; when only Debbie, Sarah and Anne were dressed as trollops. I wore a tux and had all the other employees in formal attire.

"Come on… Debbie." I said. "Don't you think everyone had fun? …Sarah? …Anne??? Jeez Anne! What’s the big deal with you? You normally dress pretty slutty!"

Anne looked like I’d rolled up a newspaper and slapped her across the nose. If there had been a chance Anne would relent… I’d lost her. I guess dressing like she does might have caused her some pain somewhere along the line. She evidently is sensitive about her clothing. Can I help it she has a Frederick's of Hollywood sense of fashion. People can be so funny about their clothes.

"Don’t you girls realize I never ask you to do something I wouldn't?"

Glances flash between the three. Obviously I’m stepping into something. I have to be careful… although there’s no harm in what’s been said so far.

"We’ve heard that ‘I never ask you to do something I wouldn’t’ thing one too many times. Do you really think you’re that fair-minded?" Sarah’s speaking for the first time. "Jim, do you EVER hear yourself when you call us your ‘girls’? Have you ever considered how demeaning the term ‘girls’ is to career women?"

Picky!!!! I wish the ‘career women’ would get it over with… and let me get on the golf course. Hopefully I won’t miss my tee time due to this ‘bitch’ session.

It’s a sunny, Saturday afternoon. They asked me to meet them at Debbie's house for a 'discussion'. This is way out of the ordinary. Although I consider them friends, I’d never been to any of their homes. I came to Debbie's house right after jogging five miles and a quick shower at my home. (I don’t belong to a health club, as I don’t feel comfortable naked around other men.) I’d assumed this meeting had something to do with work. I never suspected an ambush.

Debbie's husband has taken her daughter to the country club for a swim. I’m dressed in shorts, a polo shirt and sandals. They’re all similarly dressed, as the afternoon is quite warm. I’m drinking a coke Debbie offered when I came in the door. She hadn't asked me if I wanted something stronger and now I wished she had. I’d watched Debbie pour the coke straight out of a half-full liter bottle she took from the refrigerator. There isn’t any liquor in my drink. Yet, I’m feeling a buzz behind my eyes.

"You embarrassed the shit out of us." Said Sarah. "You’ve damaged our reputations with those who are most important to our careers."

"I’m the most important person to your careers." I countered. "You wore those outfit to please me. Although, I think each of you secretly loved the opportunity to show a little T&A."

Oops! Shouldn’t have said that.

"Jiiimmmm!" drawled Debbie. "There just isn’t any hope for you. You just don’t get it."

I’m fed up with this. I’m also physically drained. Perhaps I’d overdone it jogging that morning. Maybe I'll skip golf and take a nap as soon as I put a stop to this crap.

Debbie whined on. "We need to set things right. We're prepared to take this matter to court if you don’t..."

"Wow! Give three little girls half a legal education and they go hog-wild. ONE! You haven’t told me your terms. TWO! I haven’t the slightest idea what sort of legal position you think you have. And THREE! I’m a friend of every attorney within 500 miles. Even if you’ve got some half-assed legal theory, no one would represent you."

I like to verbally number my arguments. It lets people know I can count and talk at the same time.

I start for the door.

"Hey asshole! Do the words ‘sexual harassment’ mean anything to you?" Said Sarah.

I turn and glare at each of them. Glaring is one of the ways I intimidate people. "Sexual… Fucking… Harassment! What a bunch of cunts! Where are you three going to work next week? Debbie… Think anyone else wants a washed-up soccer mom? Anne… Who else besides me will look past your tits to your brain? Sarah… Do your biker friends have a job for you? When I’m done with you three… you’ll all have to move out of the country to find gainful employment. Sexual Fucking Harassment! Clowns!"

It’s very quiet in the room for several moments. Everything I’ve said from the start of the meeting seems to hang in the air. The many years we’ve been friends… all we’ve been through… they’re throwing it all down the drain. I’d hate to do it… but they can be replaced.

My stomach growls. Debbie’s is cooking something that smells like pot roast. I’ll stop at a McDonald’s on the way home and get a Big Mac, fries and a malt.

Anne breaks the silence. "Jim I think you need to…"

"No… it’s you three jerks that need to… need to think. If you shut up now and let me go in peace, I’m going to pretend this never happened. You'd think you three would know enough law not to pull a stunt like this. What the hell are you thinking of? You can’t go around threatening people… when you don’t have a leg to stand on."

"That’s just it Jim… we do know the law. We know what you did was horribly wrong. What you made us do will look terrible to a jury. We have the facts and the law on our side. We’ve all read the ‘Hooters’ case. You can’t use your employees to titillate and amuse your customers." Anne is looking me right in the eyes… without the faintest degree of fear in her voice. I’ve never seen her act this sure before. Although Anne is very intelligent she’s also feminine. She doesn’t totally trust her abilities …not enough to be strong in her convictions.

"Tit…il… fucking…late???? What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t ask you to do anything sexual with any of the clients. If any of you fucked a lawyer, you did it of your own volition."

"Jiimmmm! Really!!!" Debbie’s beginning to twitch around her eyes. She does that when she’s upset. "We have our demands and you’re going to agree to them. Or… we’ll file the papers on Monday. If we file, your career will be over by the time the afternoon paper hits the streets. You need…"

"The papers aren’t going to give a rat’s ass about a suit filed by three bitches looking for instant riches. Hey, that would make a good headline! "Bitches Look for Riches."

Bitches! Politically incorrect? You bet! I’m well aware what the terms ‘bitch’ and ‘cunt’ do to women. I use them to throw women off-stride; it’s part of my intimidation.

Debbie’s house is nice, but not huge. We are all within ten feet of one another. At the moment, we’re much too close.

Sarah’s the first to talk, "You just don’t understand… Do you? You pompous little twit… you're up shit creek. I told you he'd be too bull-headed to reason with us. Show him the complaint. He's not going to listen until we shove his nose in it."

Debbie reaches into her attaché (a gift from me last Christmas). What she has appears to be a summons and complaint.

I’ve reviewed hundreds of complaints. Years ago, they looked ominous. Their shock value wore off. They’d become just another piece of paper. This carried my name and the name of my employer. Holy shit!

"Okay, okay… good joke. You really outdid yourselves. This thing looks like the real thing. Okay… I apologize… I shouldn’t have made you wear those dresses. Does that do it? Are we friends again?" I was beginning to feel a little dizzy. The words on the complaint were doing a jig. I focused enough to make out the words ‘sexual harassment’. Turning to the last page… they’re asking for $15 million in actual and punitive damages. Fuck!

"Jim, it never was meant to be funny." Said Anne.

Her tone sounds friendly. Maybe I hadn’t offended her too much with that remark about her clothes. Anne’s real forgiving. She’s taken a lot from her various boyfriends. I would never allow people to boss me around like she does.

"We're serious. If you don’t agree to our terms… you’re screwed." Screwed is a major foul word coming out of Anne’s mouth. Sarah throws 'fucks' like confetti. Debbie can swear like a trooper with enough rum and coke.

Anne said ‘screwed’! I’m beginning to sweat. Actually I’ve been sweating for quite some time and just now realize it. I collapse into an easy chair.

"Let’s say you talked some ambulance chaser into preparing these papers. Without a good lawyer, the odds the papers will publish anything about a frivolous suit like this… is far below 50/50. It’s also far below 50/50 whether your careers last for another month. Without a top gun attorney, you have a one in ten chance of getting a case to court… and you never win."

I’m thinking out loud …I’m bluffing out loud. The local papers will run anything to boost their circulation. I can almost see the headlines. "Local Business Man Brought to His Knees by Sexual Harassment Suit." Despite the spot I’m in… I chuckle. Sexual harassment usually brings women to their knees… with a cock in their mouth.

My laugh sounds feeble and inane.

If they can get a few of the people at the party to testify as to how demeaning the costumes were – I am screwed. These cases have a way of going to the plaintiff.

"Laugh all you want… you shithead. You've had your fun and now it's our turn." Sarah’s pissed. She’s using a tone on me she reserves for those attorneys that try to weasel out of their bills. "While you're laughing, look at the signature."

I look for the name Walt Dorner. He’s the only ‘ham and egger’ I know who would consider filing a suit against me.

"RA - FUCKING - BECCA!"

Rebecca Turner is the toughest female attorney in our state. She’s never lost a case. She’s a ball-buster. She’s also a friend. I’ve helped her win most of her cases. I call her 'Belt and Suspenders Becca'. She’s never happy with one solid precedent when she can have two… three …or four. She plans for every contingency. Her preparation ends only when the gavel comes down opening the trial.

"This isn’t Rebecca's signature. Do you think I'm stupid? Rebecca wouldn’t sue me! You've really done it. When she sees this sham complaint, she’ll help me build an open and shut extortion case against all three of you."

"You just don’t understand sisterhood… do you? You've let your penis do your thinking for too long. I'm going to enjoy teaching you a good lesson." Sarah can really ‘bottom line’ her feelings.

Maybe it’s stress or maybe it’s too warm. Even though I’m angry and full of adrenaline, I’m stifling a yawn.

Sarah leans across the coffee table, "This was partly Rebecca's idea. She’s really mad at the way you had us dress. She suggested that night we sue you. She's doing the legal work pro bono. Rebecca's had it in for you for years. You really fucked up when you told her law partners it’s your work that won several of her cases."

I did make a few remarks along those lines to RA-FUCKING-BECCA's partners at a charity smoker. It was scotch talk. The type of thing guys say to guys. I'll have a word with them about discretion.

What the fuck is it with women attorneys? They’re either ultra feminine… screwing every judge on the circuit… or they tend to be Marines. Lessies with short hair and sensible shoes. Rebecca’s definitely not a Marine. She has short, but very feminine hair. She’s been the object of more than a few fantasies I’ve had. I wonder which judge she’s…

"She doesn't think much of that disgusting nickname you've given her, either." Anne added.

So they snitched. I’m beginning to see they aren’t the loyal friends I thought.

"I’m not buyin it…you’re bluffing. Maybe Ra - fa…. Rebecca did help you write this pile of shit… so what?"

Debbie looks at me like she does her daughter when she needs her nosed wiped, "So here's what… Jiiimmm." She can really draaawwwlll to make a point.

"Once we sue, Tony will turn on you in a flash. You screwed up bad. He’ll fire you to protect himself. He’s such a jerk." Anne’s face looked like she had sucked a lemon when she said Tony’s name.

"Let me lay it out for you." Said Debbie. "You've got no prospect whatsoever of landing a job at even half the package you’ve got now with National Corporation …not within 500 miles of here, anyway. Sandy's family is all within 50 miles… she isn’t about to move. If you lose this job, your marriage is over. You've got approximately $225,000 in the bank and in stocks. The money will all go to Sandy along with custody of the boys. Your chances in a divorce court, once this suit has disgraced you, would be nil. You’ll be toast."

Sandy… what would Sandy have to say? I love that woman. But she can be unreasonable. And the kids… they’re great. Without this job, I won’t be a good provider. I have to figure a way out of this. Sandy didn’t like the costumes I had the girls wear. She chewed me out that evening before she left the party. She left early to work at her charity… an abused women’s shelter. Sandy doesn’t like the way I am at work and normally avoids office functions.

I lean forward in my chair to signal I’m willing to be reasonable.

"Okay… you don’t know shit about how National Corporation or Sandy would react to this sit - tu - a - tion… but I'll listen to your demands. Let’s talk this out."

Debbie’s acts like the office manager she is. "This is the release you will sign." She shoves a legal document in front of me. It’s a release based on several conditions. I glance at the back page and see RA - ahhh Rebecca’s signature. It looks official. I’m surprised there’s no money in their demands. It appears they want a moral victory. The $15 million demand in the complaint is strictly for bargaining.

What a bunch of twats! All this and all they want is a moral victory. I breathe a sigh of relief. I’ll sign their silly ass paper and pretend to go along with their plan. Then I’ll pick them off one by one …put them out on the street on the ears.

There are several conditions.

I’m to admit I’d acted egregiously. As long as I meet their ongoing demands, they will not file the suit or notify National Corporation.

During the next two years, I’m to do everything necessary to become compassionate in regards to the ‘horrible and painful experience’ I put them through the night of the ‘Taste of France’. I’m to follow their instructions explicitly. If necessary, they will take punitive action.

I’m to give them my credit cards to pay all incurred expense.

Should I fail to make every effort to understand Anne, Sarah and Debbie’s humiliation… if I don’t come to real and true contrition… they will immediately file suit against my employer and me.

I’m to agree I will not contest the suit …if it has to be filed due to my non-compliance. I’m to agree to stipulate the facts of the case as outlined in the complaint Pacta Sunt Servanda… (I agree to observe the conditions of the contract) …and will plead Nolo Contendere should they decide to also seek criminal charges against me.

"Criminal charges?"

Anne’s beautiful blue eyes and saintly face smile at me, "Rebecca thinks we can create some new law in that area. Rebecca thinks we can successfully plead to the state's attorney you inflicted great mental anguish on all of us. Rebecca thinks they might name this new type of criminal act after you. Rebecca thinks you will be classified as a sex offender!"

Rebecca thinks… Rebecca thinks. Obviously they think I’m someone who cares what Rebecca thinks… and they’re right… motherfucker!!!… I’m in a huge pile of shit. Great… a felony named after me… Just the type of fame I've been seeking all my life. Sex offender… Given my slight build, I can imagine what would happen to me in jail as a sex offender.

I have to sign. I’ll take a few sensitivity courses to 'heighten my awareness of the female condition'. Even if I haven’t done anything wrong, I’ll take the high road by signing the release. Once they let down their guard I’ll fire each and every one of these charming idiots.

I have to save face. I’m not going to appear to agree too easily…

"This doesn’t seem to be very specific. We need to add something in here to limit your ability to cause damage to my reputation… maybe something that would allow arbitration of your instructions or ‘punishments’ by a disinterested third party…"

Taking the release from me, Sarah is holding it in her hands as if to rip it in half.

"Sarah…" Debbie reaches to stop her. "Give Jim a chance to reconsider. We have to think of Sandy and the kids."

"Oh… so that's your tactic. You think you can pressure me into a dumb decision by reminding me of my DUTY to my family. Pretty cheap stunt, Debbie. I have to admit you’ve delivered your lines well. Sarah, you did an Oscar winning acting job. I'm sure you've got copies of the release in Debbie's briefcase."

Bull’s-eye! Anne and Debbie blush with anger. Sarah slams the document down on the table and leans back in her chair.

"So, needle dick." Said Sarah. "How do you like it? Remember when you used peer pressure to make us wear those outfits? Remember you said you’d cut the discretionary employee benefits if we didn’t agree to wear them. You even put that horseshit threat in an office memo. You set it up so if we three refused to wear those short skirts, everyone in the office would suffer."

I had.

It worked.

Sarah went on, "Rebecca tells us that memo will be marked as exhibit #1. When you read that memo for the jury, they will know exactly how you forced us to do what eventually caused Anne so much pain and suffering."

Evidently Sarah’s saying more than she should. The twitch around Debbie's eyes tells me I don't know everything that happened that night. Their complaint isn’t specific about what occurred. I assume they’ll claim mental anguish. Anne’s silently crying… there’s some unspoken bigger problem.

Tears. I hate tears. Anne and Sarah are quick to cry when things don’t go their way. I admire Debbie’s ability to hold back her tears. Even Debbie cries now and again if the facts in a case that she’s researching are particularly appalling. Debbie specializes in divorce law. Whenever the divorce involves abusive behavior… Niagara Falls and out come the hankies. What a bunch of ninnies… Women have no pride.

"Maybe I should sign the release and make things right. It looks like I might need some sensitivity training." Yeah right… I hope their (they’re) loving this shit. I’m just fine. I’ve done nothing the boys in Boston wouldn’t do. "It might even look good to the boys in Boston. You do realize I can’t sign anything as open as this… what if you told me I had to parade down Main Street in one of those maid outfits you wore? I couldn’t do that. I'm too much of a man to do such a thing. It wouldn’t be right…."

No one offers to reword the agreement. It’s strangely quiet. I guess I’ll have to rely on my ability to negotiate when the time comes for them to be more specific in their demands.

"Aw fuck it!" I said, grabbing the papers. "We've been friends for a long time. I'm going to sign this damned thing and count on you to do the right thing. If it's an apology you want… it's an apology you'll get. I'm a man of my word. I’ve always been and always will be… a man of my word."

As I sign the paper, fatigue hits me hard. I lean back into my chair and drift toward darkness.

A voice comes from behind me, "Jill… you did the right thing agreeing to their terms! But, I doubt you’ll always be a MAN of your word."

Sandy’s here??? SHE CALLED ME BY MY FEMALE NAME… JILL!!! Sandy only uses that name begrudgingly… during our lovemaking …when I beg her to… and then only in the dead of night… in a whisper… in our bedroom where no one else can hear… I turn as the world dissolves to black. My sweet Sandy is standing in the back of the room with her arms crossed.

 

 

 

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© 2001 by Jill M.I. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.