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Chapter 2: We need to talk

It's eight o'clock Thursday and I'm standing in my parents house watching my stepfather, Andy, make Cajun food.

My mom and I had lived in New York when my mom first met Andy. This was about 7 years ago. They got married and I was forced to move to California into their large 18th century house with my three new stepbrothers. It wasn't actually that bad though. I quickly found that California had its advantages : sun, palm trees, and the beach.

Andy, who is a carpenter, happens to be a fabulous cook. My family doesn't have alot of traditions, but we do get together every Thursday for a sit-down dinner.

''We need to talk,'' my mother says.

I cringe because, really, has anything good ever followed that statement?

''I'm concerned about you, Suze'' she continues.

''Concerned?'' I repeat suddenly finding my chestnut locks more important than the issue. The truth was was that I already knew what the concern was. My mother and I have had this conversation many times before.

''Suzie, your 23, fumbling around trying to get your life in order.''

''My life's in order'' I grumble.

''No it isn't. Suzie, you try to pretend you're happy, but I can tell you're not. These are the best years of your life!'' My mother says. ''You're supposed to be out having a good time, meeting people, meeting men, living it up.''

''What about Jake?'' I ask refering to my stepbrother. He too was 23. Jake, however, was also a college dropout.

My questioned is never answered though because suddenly Andy announces dinner's ready. Suddenly my appetite is gone.

Friday's tend to be the slowest workday at Your Big Break Inc. People like to get their relationship ending done and over with early in the week.

''Simon, are you familiar with the term 'binding arbitration'?'' my boss and best friend CeeCee McTavish asks, planting her very pregnant self in front of my desk.
CeeCee, who just a month away from bursting, is married to my other best friend Adam. We all met in highschool.

I gesture the chair opposite my desk. She plops down.
''Yes, Cee,I know what binding arbitration is. Why?''

''You know Paul Slater?'' She asks. It's a rhetorical question, but I nod. Paul Slater is our biggest client. He is also our hottest. Anyways, Paul pratically single-handedly keeps us in business.

''Well Mr.Slater was in the middle of a binding arbitration this morning when Kelly Prescott -the girl he hired you to dump last week-barged in and started screaming at him. It threw him off so badly, he nearly blew the case.'' Cee smirks. ''Though, of course, he didn't.''

''Thank God'' I roll my eyes.

''Simon, did you or did you not inform Kelly that Mr.Slater no longer wants to see her?''

''Yes, I did last Monday'' I sigh. ''She was pretty devastated.''

Devastated doesn't even describe it. Kelly didn't stop crying for two hours.

''Well apparently the breakup didn't take.''

''Apparently'' I agree.

''Paul's deeply upset with what happend, Suze'
I snort. I highly doubt Paul Slater would shed a tear over anything, much less one of his disposable girlfriends.

CeeCee has that look in her eye. The 'we have to do the right thing' look.
''Oh, come on Cee'' I wine.

''You'd better get down there'' she instructs.
''Where!?''

''Kelly's apartment. The address is in the file, right?'' ''But we don't even know the whole story!'' I debate.

It's no use. Cee is my boss not my best friend at the moment.

''Mr.Slater can explain it better. Speaking of which. You'd better talk to him before you go see Kelly.''

''Alright'' I nod giving up.

''When I talked to Mr.Slater this morning, he was furious, it's going to take a real''
''Don't worry Cee'' I cut her off. ''I'll kiss his ass''
She smiles. Exactly what she wants to hear.

Paul Slater is quite possibly the world's most prolific dater.

As I sit in the reception area of Slater,Slater, and Klein: Attorneys at Law, I mull over his never-ending list of exes.

There is of course, Kelly, who I'm here to discuss.
Last month,it was Holly O'Henry. Before her, Shiri Friedman. And let's not forget Annie Shields, Heather Bjerk, and Kristen Walker. Beyond that, my memory gets fuzzy.
They seem to blend together. They all have similar professions (wannabe actress/model/singer), similar appearances (drop dead gorgeous) and similar shelf lives (six weeks, max).

I've been waiting in his reception area for nearly forty five minutes. My stomach growls. It's nearly 2 p.m., and I haven't had lunch. I have to be at Kelly's apartment in half an hour.

I stand up to tell the receptionist that I'm leaving and she clicks off a call and says ''You can go back now.''

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