The She-Hulk Diaries (33 page)

Yesterday’s deadline for answering Fritz passed without comment. He knows I’m consumed by this case. I really really wish that we didn’t have to depose Ellis, but my responsibility to my client supersedes my personal reluctance.

Amber Hammerhead smeered when I told her that I didn’t think it was appropriate that I question him. “Although Sven signed with QUIRC knowing the personal complications, I’m very uncomfortable bringing Ellis in.”

“The EBT for Ellis is restricted to the ethics guidelines he drew up for ReplaceMax, which are public information,” she said coldly. “Even if he had remembered your name, it doesn’t make any difference to him who questions him. If you think it makes a difference to our client, you should call Sven and explain why.”

“That’s unnecessary, because as first chair I’ve made the decision to ask Genoa to conduct the examination.”

“Fine, whatever.”

Shulky woke inside me, like a grizzly who’d been hibernating in a cave, annoyed at being disturbed. I snapped, “Fine, whatever,” back at Amber and ended the conversation before my jade girlfriend decided it was time to come out and play tetherball with Amber’s noggin.

I was anxious about seeing Ellis in this context, and it didn’t help that he and I arrived at the QUIRC conference room doorway at the same time.

He gave me a stony look and said, “So you’re going through with this?”

“Of course, QUIRC is going through with this. Was there ever any question?”

“I thought there might be.”

“Not for me.” Glancing into the conference room, I saw the General and Amber already seated. “Where’s your attorney?”

“I told him not to bother coming.”

“You’re the son of a lawyer and engaged to a lawyer, and you didn’t bring any representation?” I heard my voice rising. “What is
wrong
with you, Ellis? Never mind. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure you don’t [meaningful pause], Jen?”

The others were watching us, so I went into the room and took the chair farthest from Ellis. A moment later, I’d regained my composure and sat impassive as the General smoothly ran through our series of questions. Ellis told us what we already knew: he and Max were friends and colleagues, and he believed that Max would never knowingly sell defective products. I knew Genoa liked Ellis, and I could tell that he respected her by his calm, complete answers. He never treated me that way.

Ellis explained each ethical principle, and I found myself admiring his sound reasoning. I struggled to maintain my astute professional observation instead of gazing dreamily at him. Occasionally, I looked at Amber to see if she had additional questions. She took notes, now and then lifting her eyes to Ellis. I couldn’t read her expression for the life of me.

The examination ended, and Genoa excused herself, but Ellis stayed behind and came to me. “You’re making a mistake and destroying a good man.”

“The facts are irrefutable. ReplaceMax organs failed. People died and are dying.”

He gave me a hard stare before he left.

Amber came over and said, “Don’t mind Ellis. He thinks that no one is as principled as he is.”

I could have been wrong, but I thought I heard bitterness under the dulcet tones of her voice.

My level of stress at work has ratcheted up since Ellis’s EBT. I changed into running shoes and took a circuitous route home, walking briskly enough to burn off my tension. On Franklin Street, I recognized an annoying hipster who always dropped candy wrappers and flicked cigarette butts on the sidewalk. Then I saw him move toward a trash bin and toss a Joocey Jooce cup inside.

I tapped his shoulder and said, “Excuse me.”

“Yes?” He smiled at me.

“Would you please tell me why you threw that cup in the trash?”

“That’s where it belongs, right?” His expression was pleasant but puzzled.

“I’ve seen you around the neighborhood, and you always littered before. Why are you throwing garbage away now?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I want to be nicer, I think. If you don’t mind, I don’t want to be late. I’m meeting a friend. Have a good evening!”

“You, too,” I said. “Thank you for cleaning up.”

It was all very perplexing, and I walked to Dahlia’s salon. She was
showing the last client out, and she let me in and locked the door after me.

I clicked off the main salon lights for her and said, “This case is making me so tense my skin is crawling. I need a drink, and don’t suggest Joocey Jooce!”

“You need to change out of your work clothes
and
change out of your work brain. Let’s have a bite and beer. I’m in the mood for a grilled cheese with bacon and jalapeños, which I believe covers all the major groups on the new food pyramid.”

“Is that a new food truck special?”

“No, it’s my own special. Take Rodney for a walk while I finish closing up, and we can go to my place.”

I glared at Rodney, and he made a hideous snorting sound. He didn’t like me walking him and kept dropping his butt to the ground, making me pick him up and carry him most of the way. When a woman looked at us and said, “Cute dog!” I knew that niceness had gotten completely out of control.

However, the food and the beer helped, and Dahlia let me rant on about Ellis’s hostility, Amber’s bitchiness, how I would never find an apartment and was now stagnating on my Valentine’s Day goals.

Dahlia ranted about problematic clients, a stylist diva, and her lack of a sexual partner who didn’t interfere with her job. “I hate it when they fall in love with me.”

“You’re infuriatingly lovable,” I said. “However, I fail to comprehend why you don’t fall in love back.”

“Because they are not worth taking time from Arrested Youth, which, as you know, is my life’s dream.”

“When I met you, your life’s dream was anthropology. You wanted to go to Egypt.”

“Ancient Egypt had revolutionary hairstyles, and if you ever time-travel back to the land of Pharaohs, I expect you to take me. As I was saying, I’d like to find someone who is both worthy of my time and yet doesn’t intrude.”

“I want a real boyfriend and an intellectually collaborative relationship. I think Sven and I could have a wonderful life together.”

“You haven’t even had sex with him.”

“Plenty of people don’t have sex before they get married.”

“Oh, please, poodle, be serious. You wouldn’t buy a car without test-driving it.”

“Are you implying that I’m a car or a driver?”

“Both. What you need is a She-Hulk adventure, and I will accompany you.”

“I don’t want to go dancing tonight. I’m too arghed and ooked out!”

“Are you arghed enough to turn into She-Hulk?” Dahlia asked excitedly.

“No, but if you want to come on one of
my
adventures, you can. I’d like to visit the ‘heck of a nice guy’ who rents from Claude, the doorman.”

“Claude, the former potential future love of your life?”

“Yes. I don’t know if his ‘heck of a nice guy’ tenant will be in. Claude doesn’t have his phone number.”

“You said the welding shop was in Jamaica Heights. I’m not taking public transportation all the way out there. You should have a car. It’s weird that you don’t since you’ve always been such a car fanatic.”

“I am not a fanatic. I have a sensible appreciation for well-made machines,” I said, which set off a round of crazy eye-rolling.

It didn’t take long for me to borrow a ride from the Mansion’s fleet and return to pick up Dahlia. She wasn’t impressed when I pulled up in the beat-up Buick LeSabre, but her expression changed when she got in the car and saw the glowing lights and gauges on the dashboard.

“OMG, Jen, this looks like the control panel for a spaceship! What does this do?” she said, reaching for a switch.

I batted her hand away. “Rocket launcher.
Do not touch anything
, because I always get blamed anytime something gets wrecked, even when it’s totally not my fault, or incidental to hero stuff.”

“I thought you’d be more fun as a superhero, and don’t tell me that you’re not a superhero.”

“Okay, here’s something fun for you. Hang on tight!” I flipped on the stealth glide and said, “Now they see us, and now they don’t!” and the car shuddered as it became invisible.

In a matter of seconds, I shifted to PeakSpeed, and we were swiftly weaving in and out of the stream of heavy traffic.

“We’re going too fast!” D said, and grabbed the dashboard as we sharply swung between a big rig and a careening van.

Suddenly the car veered into the next lane and the tight space between two speeding cars, and D said, “Holy shit!”

The car ahead slammed on its brakes, and we swerved into the narrow space between the lanes, with less than an inch of clearance on either side.

Dahlia screamed and stared from side to side in horror, saying, “Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

“It’s all automatic.” I lifted my hands from the steering wheel, but D was jamming down on an imaginary brake and frequently shrieked during the ride.

She was pale and shaky when we approached our destination. I switched off the PeakSpeed, and when we were clear of traffic, I flipped off the stealth glide and took control of the steering again.

When Dahlia pried her fingers off the dashboard, I said, “You
told
me you wanted an adventure.”

“But I didn’t want to be terrified!”

“If you’re not scared, it’s not a real adventure.” I parked by the old welding shop and said, “Come on,” as we got out.

She turned her attention to a new worry. “There’s no one around, but I feel like we’re being watched.”

“Probably. You can either come with me or stand here by yourself.”

She hurried to my side. We neared the fenced yard, and the dogs bounded out, snarling and snapping. Dahlia skipped back and said, “Yikes!” and then I heard a
yip yip
noise and her tote bag bulged on one side.

“D, did you bring that horrible rat-thing with you!”

“Don’t be churlish
and
sulky. I didn’t know how long we’d be gone.”

“Great. Now they’ll try to tear him to shreds. I’ll do my best to keep them back.” I put my palm flat on the fence, and the big Rottie sniffed it and began waggling his rear. “Hey, bowser, how’s it going?” The other dogs quit barking and came to the fence to say hello. They sniffed toward Dahlia’s tote, but they didn’t growl.

Light edged out from behind the blinds on a second-floor window, and I said, “I think Heck-of-a-nice-guy may be in there.” I buzzed the bell at the gate.

We waited, and after a minute, the blinds on the upstairs window moved. Then the buzzer at the gate sounded. I pushed at it and said to Dahlia, “Follow right behind me. If anything happens, take cover and let me handle it.”

As we entered the lot, the dogs circled us, sniffing and wagging. A few nudged at D’s bag, and she twisted away from them as a growl came from within.

“Don’t hold me responsible if this pack eats that horrible hairball,” I said.

“Rodney can defend himself.”

“You’re delusional.” We walked to the door marked ADMINISTRATION, and the security camera swiveled toward us. I looked into the camera and tried to keep my expression neutral to defuse any suspicion.

After a moment, the door opened. A man in a hoodie stood there, his face angled into shadow.

“Hello,” I said, holding out my hand, “I’m Jennifer Walters, your landlord Claude’s attorney.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to pay rent in money not coupons,” he said in a gentle, deliberate voice. “I apologize for that confusion. I’m Adam.”

He took my hand tentatively and shook it, keeping his face ducked down.

“This is my friend Dahlia. May we come in and talk?”

He nodded, his hood throwing his face into more darkness. We went into the room, which only had one low-wattage desk light on.

“Do you mind turning on a light? It’s very dark.”

He hesitated and then said, “I have a facial disfigurement. I didn’t want to frighten you.”

I couldn’t help but think of Victor von Doom and the scary mask that he wore to cover his scarred face. “Thank you for telling us, but there was no need to worry.”

Then Adam switched on the overhead and I saw what he’d been hiding. The top left of his face was a mass of new scar tissue, still viciously red and rough.

“You’re horrified,” he said.

Dahlia stepped toward him and said, “Yes, because you’ve got a horrible cut.”

“It’s a burn,” he said, shyly.

“No, I mean your haircut. Your hair is really fabulous—great texture, and are those natural highlights? But the style is an absolute crime!”

“You’re making a joke.” His smile was so radiant that he was instantly attractive, and I realized that he was quite young. “Most people don’t get to notice my hair.”

“All Dahlia
ever
notices is hair,” I said. “It’s one of the many reasons she’s special.”

“Well, I have a gift. You’ve been self-cutting, haven’t you?” She leaned forward, pushed his hood back, and ran her fingers through his hair just as she always did with me when I was a little down. “There will be no more of that.”