Page 1 of Man Seeking Woman

Prologue

August

––––––––

“What the hell is this?” I asked, throwing down the papers and pointing at a clause I was unfamiliar with.

I had seen the will periodically over the years after my father wrote it, but I didn't remember this requirement that seemed to come from nowhere. It was never mentioned, never discussed, never whispered once through a drunken slew of gobbled words.

To say I was shocked was an understatement—I was fucking mortified.

This has to be some type of sick joke my father decided to leave me.

Forcing a smile, I let out a weak laugh. “Alright, wait a minute, is this some type of prank? Did my father ask you to screw with me like this?”

“I'm a professional, August, I take these things very seriously. I don't get paid to create death jokes, the law would never go for that.”

“If that's the case, then what the hell is this?” Twisting the paper, I pushed it in his direction.

My father's lawyer leaned forward, pulling the papers closer and lowering his glasses down the bridge of his nose. His eyes scanned the small print, as if he wasn't exactly sure where he should be looking or what he should be looking for.

“Which clause?” he asked, his finger barely hovering over the paper, softly drifting like an abandoned boat at sea. Scrunching his brows, he moved his eyes back and forth between the fine print and my face. “There are several in here, how am I suppose to know which one you're talking about?”

He knows, he damn well knows what the hell I'm talking about.The guy fucking typed all that shit out, every fucking word. If he was going to try and play stupid, I was going go ape shit.

“You know which one I'm talking about. If this isn't a joke, we're going to have a problem. I want to know why it's in there and whose bright idea it was?”

Tapping his knuckles on the paper, he peered up at me. “I'm sorry, these are the terms of your father's will, August.” Pushing the stack back towards me, he folded his hands on the desk. “Your father was very firm about having that in there.”

“When? When was this decided and why wasn't I told?”

Searching the ceiling, Mr. Stone leaned back, rubbing his thumbs together in thought. “We have no obligation to inform you of decisions your father made for his will. This was his idea, all him, no one else.”

“No, no way, this isn't right.” Shaking my head, I sat back in the chair and glared at the short, arrogant, piece of shit lawyer my father had always insisted on using. “He can't do this, it has to be illegal. I'll file a petition against the court to have it changed.”

Mr. Stone's nostrils flared as he took in a slow breath. “I won't tell you that you can't try and get it over turned, because of course you have the right to contest it. But, I will warn you that it's a long and expensive battle you'll never win.”

---