Page 2 of Rejection Overruled

“What are you talking about? Don’t tell me there’s a surprise that will affect our chances of winning.”

“Actually, we aren’t going to court,” Harvey informed me. “The case went to arbitration. You will have to go negotiate tomorrow.”

The news washed over me as though someone doused me with iced water. My horniness quickly flew through the car window and disappeared somewhere in that parking garage. Leaning back, I wondered what happened that they decided against a court proceeding. Did the husband coerce my client into this? I needed answers.

“Do you know who is representing the husband?” I asked, hoping that would help me figure out what was going on.

The last I spoke with my client she was keen on taking her cheating husband to court. Somehow, I always had a feeling she was hiding something from me. I also needed to know what that was. Up to recently, the lawyer for my client’s husband was one I had faced in the courtroom before. However, two days ago my client informed me that he’d fired his lawyer and employed someone new. Her husband did not tell her who the new attorney was.

“No, they’ve been tight lipped about the whole thing,” Harvey replied. “Brooke, you’re the best divorce attorney around. That’s why women agree to go on a waiting list for your services. You can do this.”

“Harvey, I’m not worried. I just hate surprises.”

“Well, you’ll find out tomorrow. I’ve got to go now,” he said, obviously dismissing me.

“Yeah, talk to you tomorrow.”

After Harvey hung up, I was left with a feeling that someone pulled one over on me. I pulled out of the parking space and sped home, hoping to take a bath and sip a glass of wine. My moment to masturbate in the car had passed and I doubted I’d do it any time soon.

The conversation with Harvey pushed everything, including what transpired earlier, out of my mind. The phone rang a few times while I was on my way. I saw that it was John so I ignored it. I knew what would happen. He would apologize and promise to make it up to me, to do better next time. However, I’d made up my mind. It was over. There was nothing he could do to convince me to stay in a sexually unsatisfactory relationship.

Once home, I shut off the cell phone and drew my bath. I was sinking into the warm water, a glass of rose wine in hand when my high school crush’s face flashed before me. This tended to happen occasionally, especially when I was in a sour mood.

His face was prominent in my mind, tight angular jawline and dark brown eyes. His chocolate complexion was always smooth and cool. If I ever saw him again, I’d teach him such a lesson he would not likely forget. That boy hurt me and I never got a chance to get back at him. I spent the last fifteen years thinking about his rejection.

The painful memory rushed through my mind like a mighty wind. With my eyes squeezed shut, the images skedaddled across my mind’s eye. It was close to the end of the school year and I had been secretly crushing on him all year. Jamal Styles was the captain of the soccer team and I was the fat girl in the thick black rimmed glasses.

I was always shy around boys I liked. However, watching the Psychiatrist on TV talk about facing your fears and getting what you want, boosted my confidence. When my high school crush asked me out on a date, I was the happiest girl in school. He took me to a movie and then we drove to Lover’s Peak to watch the city lights.

When he kissed me, it was the most beautiful moment in the world. Then his hands were under my skirt and I pushed them away.

“What are you doing?”

“Just giving you what you wanted,” he replied.

“Take me home now,” I demanded.

In silence he drove me home. This was my first real date with a boy, but I wasn’t so naïve not to know what he was about to do. Him being the captain of the soccer team and the most attractive boy in school, did not give him the right to feel me up. What did he expect, that I would give in to sex so easily?

I didn’t see him at all the following day. After school I decided to see if he was ready to apologize. Knowing where he often hung out after training, I went to the locker room. He and his friends were there. I didn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when I heard my name I halted and listened.

“Her name’s Brooke,” Jamal said. “Now pay up!”

“Why should we pay you? You lost the last bet and that was the deal, that you go out with her. I bet you didn’t even score with her,” one of his friends said.

“Okay, I didn’t score, but doesn’t a kiss count?” Jamal asked.

“That’s gross man!” another of his friends exclaimed. “How could you kiss that?”

“That was a part of the deal wasn’t it?” Jamal said. “You guys. Don’t punish me this way again. Next time I lose a bet, just make me do something else, but not go out with fatty again.”

There I stood transfixed as I listened to them talk about me. Jamal had only asked me out because he lost a bet and was being punished. I wasn’t even good enough as the main prize in a bet, but rather his punishment. In a rush, I left the locker room.

My diploma arrived in the mail because I missed graduation. The honor of valedictorian, which was originally appointed to me, was designated to another. I never saw him again, but not a day passed in the last fifteen years that I didn’t remember that day as though it was yesterday.

2 - Brooke

Finding clothes in my taste to suit my size was a challenge. Fortunately, my best friend and assistant was a fashion freak. Sophia taught me how to enhance my extra-large breasts and my super wide hips. I was a size twelve which wasn’t obese, but I was still slightly overweight. I’d outgrown some of the fat from high school, but many people still saw that chubby little girl they once knew.

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