“Women always, you know, have a good time, and Daphne always, you know…” A hurt look filled his eyes as he let the sentence trail off.
A pang of sympathy went through Rebecca even though her patience for hand-holding was low on a good day and nearly nonexistent after a court battle this morning and mediation this afternoon. Anthony’s head was no doubt whirling. Was he bad in bed? Had his wife faked her enjoyment? Was that why she’d strayed?
Rebecca reached out and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Anthony, you know she’s just throwing out words to rile you up. I told you she’d say the ugliest things to get you off your game. This is a standard emasculation tactic.”
He blinked. “What?”
“The easiest way to knock a guy off his game is to insult his penis size or his ability in bed. Men seem to have some inborn need to defend against that type of insult.” In her head she called it the Dick Kick, but she couldn’t bring herself to say that to a client. “On the other side, men insult the woman by saying she’s frigid or ugly, getting fat or old. When cornered, people strike right at the clichéd insecurities. It’s completely unoriginal and the tactic of someone who knows she’s losing the fight. It means we’re winning.”
Anthony gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “Winning? She’s going to get her therapist to label Prince a therapy dog. She has that guy wrapped around her finger because she’s paying way more than he’s worth. Watch. Then I’ll lose Prince, too.”
His voice caught and he glanced away, hiding the tears that jumped to his eyes at the thought of losing his dog.
Rebecca frowned. She’d never had a pet because her father had deemed them unsanitary and high maintenance, but she was regularly amazed at how people would throw away everything to keep a pet or some sentimental item. She always preferred to have the client who was less attached to those things. Sentimentality made people irrational. You can take the eighty-thousand-dollar car as long as I can keep my mother’s china.
She didn’t get it. But, of course, when the mother you worship leaves your family without warning when you’re in fourth grade to go start a new family, you learn not to get attached to much. Nothing was permanently yours.
But Anthony was her client, and he’d told her in no uncertain terms that the dog was the number one priority. He was paying Rebecca to get what he wanted, so she would accomplish that because she was good at her job and not there to judge whether a crotch-sniffer trumped a million-dollar home.
Rebecca patted his arm. “I promise. This is going exactly how we want it to. As long as they don’t have any curveballs we didn’t prepare for, what we discussed will work.”
He looked up. “Curveballs?”
“Yes, any treasured items you didn’t tell me about that could make you fold.” Rebecca glanced at the door, making sure they were still alone, and casually rose from her chair and leaned over the table to flip open Raul’s folder. She read the neat handwriting upside down. There was a jotted list of notes and talking points. She recognized and expected most of them. House. 401(k). Cars. Time-share. Antique furniture. Jewelry. All things she’d gone over with Anthony. But one buried near the bottom caught her eye.
She quickly flipped the folder closed and settled back into her seat. She pinned Anthony with a look. “Tell me about the record collection.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“They have it on their list to discuss.”
“They have what?” A bright flush of anger filled Anthony’s face. “Those are my goddamned records. I’ve been collecting them since I was fourteen.”
Uh-oh. “Have you added to the collection since you were married?”
“Yes, but—”
Great. “Is it worth a significant amount of money, or would it be hard to replace?”
His face paled. “I have original editions. Some signed. Some would be near impossible to replace. She can’t have it. That collection is… It’s my childhood.”
A sinking feeling settled in Rebecca’s stomach. “The dog or the records, Anthony? If you have to die on one hill, which one is it?”
“You want me to pick between my dog and a collection I’ve spent twenty years putting together? That’s impossible.”
“We could take this to court. You know we’ll have the upper hand.” She’d suggested this from the start. They’d both make more money if they went to court and showed fault. They had evidence. Daphne wouldn’t come across well. A big win would further Rebecca’s chances for making partner and would most likely get Anthony everything he wanted. Win-win.
Anthony shook his head and pressed his fingers to his brow. “I don’t think I can handle dragging this out. But my dog or my records?”
Rebecca shook her head, her tone no-nonsense. “I will work to get both, but if I have to cut one in order to get the other, I need to know which one to drop.”
But the door opened before he could answer, and everyone filed back in. Raul and Daphne looked smug as they walked the dog back into the office. Prince Hairy proceeded to duck beneath the table and plop down on Anthony’s feet.
Anthony gave Rebecca a forlorn look.
She lifted a brow, and he nodded.
The dog wins.