Operation Gigolo

“Never mind the noise in the background. I think this is the big one, Peanut. Splitsville. I want you to represent me.”

Lynn rested her forehead in her hand. “You, too?”

“What’dya mean, me, too? Did she beat me to the punch?”

“No, because I’m not taking either one of you on. Honestly, you sound like two kids fighting over who gets the top bunk.”

“It’s not just the plot,” her father said. “She went to this Seize Your Power seminar, and as if that wasn’t enough, she’s started taking testosterone, which she claims is because of the Change. But if you ask me, this is one woman who doesn’t need testosterone. I tell you, she’s developed a real attitude, Peanut.”

“She’s always had an attitude, Dad.” Lynn could see this wasn’t going to be a quick-fix situation. “Listen, I’ll get back to you on this. Don’t do anything rash.”

“If you’re saying don’t move out, I’ve already got a room at the Naughty and Nice Motel.”

“You’re kidding.” Her father had always joked about staying there, just to get her mother’s goat. Surely he hadn’t actually done it.

“Well, that part was a mistake.”

“You’re really at the Naughty and Nice?” She pictured the sleazy motel in a bad part of Springfield, with hookers and drug dealers hanging on every corner.

“I should have checked into the Holiday Inn instead. There’s no phones in the room. I’m calling you from the Black Garter Video Shop next door.”

Lynn’s brain began to spin. “Dad, you can’t stay there. That’s a rough area.”

“I’ve always wanted to see the place, Peanut. Plus I figured it would send your mother over the moon if I called her from there, but now I can’t, because there are no phones.”

“Which is another thing. How am I supposed to get in touch with you?”

“I’ll figure that out and call you.” He lowered his voice again. “You wouldn’t believe how some of the women dress around here, Peanut. They—whoops, gotta go. Somebody needs to use the phone, and she looks pretty determined, especially with that earring through her lower lip.” He whispered into the phone. “She’s got tattoos everywhere.” Then he hung up.

Lynn took a deep breath before returning to her mother’s call. “I have to go, Mom. I’ll call you this afternoon, and I certainly hope that by then you and Dad will have come to your senses.”

“Talk to the cemetery-plot hog! He’s the one who won’t listen to reason.”

Lynn didn’t think it wise to tell her mother the cemetery-plot hog had been on the other line, and that he was currently living in one of the more colorful parts of Springfield. “Goodbye, Mom.” She hung up and gazed at Tony. “I can’t believe this. They’ve always squabbled, but it was never serious. It was like living with Ricky and Lucy Ricardo.”

“I take it they haven’t threatened divorce before.”

“Never. But it seems my mother took some motivational seminar and now she’s on a rampage fueled by hot flashes. None of that really surprises me, but this talk about divorce…that’s just nuts. They’ve always dreamed of this time, when I’d be on my own and the house would be paid off. Dad took early retirement last year, and…” She stared at Tony as the truth dawned. “They’re bored out of their skulls, aren’t they?”

“Looks like. We’ve sure seen plenty of couples like that come through here.”

“Why did I suppose my parents would be any different?” Lynn threw her hands in the air. “Textbook case.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t remember any other middle-aged couple filing because they couldn’t figure out how to share a cemetery plot.”

“They will not file for divorce. Not if I have anything to say about it.” She crossed her arms and glared at Tony as if he would challenge her claim.

“It’ll probably blow over,” Tony said with a show of conviction.

She wanted to believe him. “I don’t like the sound of things, though. My dad’s checked into a motel in the red-light district and my mother’s busy shuffling coffins. We’re not talking your general run-of-the-mill argument, like whether to give Goliath a bath in the bidet.”

Tony’s mouth twitched. “And Goliath is a…?”

“My father’s toy poodle. Mom has a rottweiler named Snookums.” Lynn glanced at him. “You’re trying not to laugh, aren’t you?”

“Not me. Is this funny? I don’t see anything funny.”

“Well, at least they’ve always been entertaining.”

“And you’ve always had to keep a cool head.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Yeah, I’m the straitlaced one.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say so. You’re the one who suggested we hit a fun park the night after my divorce became final.”

Lynn smiled at the memory. They’d scoured the suburbs until they’d found what she was looking for—bumper cars, pinball machines, noise and people. “That was a special case. I don’t do that for clients, as a rule.”

“Just the pro bono ones.”

“Hey, I don’t take money from a good friend and colleague. I may need your services sometime. Besides, after the way Michelle—” She saw the look on his face and wished she hadn’t started the sentence in the first place.

“After the way Michelle screwed up my life, you were going to say.”

“She was a fool.” Lynn couldn’t understand Michelle at all, cheating on a man like Tony. His Italian good looks, intelligence and career choice made him what Lynn’s mother would call a “catch,” but he was also a damned nice guy.

“We both were fools. To be honest, I’d rather talk about your folks’ problems than mine.”

“Makes sense. Sorry I brought it up.” She figured he had to be grieving. The divorce was only six months old, and Michelle had been the center of his universe.

“So, how are you going to keep them from splitting up?” Tony asked.

“Well…” Lynn propped her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on her hands. She and Tony had brainstormed cases many times and she’d come to trust his input. This situation wasn’t so different from a complicated point of law. “They’re creating conflict because they have no real problems, right?”

“That’s my best guess.”

“What if I give them one?”

Tony crossed his ankle over his knee and leaned back in the chair. “Like what?”

Lynn thought back to her childhood. “Whenever I used to get in trouble—”

“Yeah, right.”

“Okay, it was pretty tame stuff. But considering how my parents debated everything from how to hang toilet paper on the roll to the background pictures on their checks, they never disagreed on how to handle me. On that issue they were a united front.”

“Gonna get yourself in trouble?”

She doodled on a pad of paper as her plan took shape.