13 December

Pallo’s lawyer calls to ask whether we can meet for an out-of-court settlement. I call up High BP immediately.

Me: “Guess what?”

High BP: “Pallo’s lawyer wants an out-of-court settlement.”

Me, slightly disappointed: “You know?”

High BP: “Why else would you call me? So excited? If not for the pleasure of getting rid of me earlier than you had anticipated?”

I keep quiet. High BP is smart.

High BP continues: “But I don’t want a settlement. I want to go to court.”

Me: “But what’s the point? You’ll probably lose anyway. And waste so much time. This way you can carry on with your life.”

High BP, in a tone that I am not sure, is sarcastic or not: “Thanks for your concern, but I am in no hurry to carry on with my life. I don’t care if I lose eventually, but I don’t care for your being so sure that we will lose anyway. I thought you were more of a fighter. Anyway, let’s meet up for coffee, and talk about this.”

I can hardly refuse. I should ask him to come over to Neem, but he is so tall, and my cubicle so tiny, that he always seems like a fabulous creature stranded in a strange land here. Perhaps if I meet him face-to-face, I can convince him to let go of the case and me.

High BP waves at me, a huge smile plastered on his face, and stands up as I walk towards his table. All the female heads in the coffee shop are turned towards him, but he does not seem to notice. He thrusts a small, absurd bunch of assorted flowers at me. Flowers! Unwittingly, I put them to my nose in sheer pleasure. But then, I look at his smile and mine disappears. Why has he brought me flowers?

He looks at my suspicious face and grins.

High BP: “You know me. I believe in buttering up useful people.”

Me: “The judge may be more useful than me.”

High BP: “Flowers wouldn’t do for her, would they? I was thinking of a BMW?”

I scowl. He laughs.

High BP: “You don’t smile much, do you? Or is that only my proximity?”

Me: “And you have a lot to smile about?”

High BP: “Usually, yes. But right now, it’s your proximity.”

God, this man never lets go of a single opportunity to flirt.

Me: “I thought you would be the expensive-orchid-and-other-such-exotic-flowers kind of a guy.”

High BP: “I thought you were the handpicked-sweet-silly-flowers kind of a girl.”

I smile then.

Me: “I am.”

He smiles too, a bit triumphantly.

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One Comment on “13 December”

  1. […] Continue reading Appi’s story at 13 December […]


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