Getting Rid of Bradley. Jennifer Crusie

      “Tina,” Lucy said. “No dating. I will fix my hair because it looks awful, but no dating.”

      “What about Bradley’s papers? I think you should throw whatever he left out on the lawn. Or better yet, burn it and dance around the flames.”

      “Tina, that’s ridiculous. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

      “No, I’m not. Psychologically, this is a very big deal. Get rid of his things and you’ll get rid of him.”

      “I am rid of him,” Lucy protested. “I just want to talk to him so I know what happened. I don’t want him back.”

      “Good. Remember that.” Tina stood and took her black silk trench coat from the rack at the end of the booth. Then she handed Lucy her bright blue quilted-cotton jacket and bag. “What have you got in that bag? It weighs a ton.”

      “My physics book, remember? I brought it so if the divorce got boring, I could review. And sure enough…”

      Tina closed her eyes. “I have to save you. This is too painful.” She jabbed her finger at Lucy. “You go home and start throwing Bradley out. I’ll make an appointment for your hair tomorrow.”

      “Tina. No. If I want my hair done, I will do it.”

      “I know this wonderful woman on Court Street….”

      “No.”

      Tina stopped. “All right. But at least get rid of Bradley.”

      “Maybe.” Lucy took a deep breath, full of independence. “Maybe.”

      

      “DAMN IT. I WAS SURE there’d be something about Bradley here.” Zack stood.

      “Your blonde’s leaving,” Anthony said and they both turned to watch.

      They were splitting up, the brunette heading for the back door to the parking lot, the blonde to the street door. Just before she got to the door, the brunette turned.

      “Lucy,” she called, and it sounded like an order. “I mean it. As soon as you get home.”

      “All right, all right,” the blonde said. “As soon as I get home, I will get rid of Bradley.” Then she turned and walked out the door.

      “Instinct,” Zack said and took off after her.

      “I hate it when you do this,” Anthony said, and moved toward the parking-lot door to stop the brunette.

      Two

      The february wind cut at Lucy’s face as she set off at a dead run to find her car, her purse banging heavily into her hip. She’d almost reached the alley next to the lot when somebody grabbed her arm, and she swung around and fell against the brick wall of the building behind her.

      It was the black leather from the restaurant. “Excuse me?” he said. “We need to talk.” He blocked her against the wall and reached inside his beat-up leather jacket. “I’m—”

      “No.” Lucy shook her head until the street blurred. “I’m very busy. Really. You probably noticed me staring at you? That was a mistake. I’m sorry. I have to go.” She tried to slip away, but he caught at her arm again.

      “I have to ask you about Bradley,” he said, and Lucy stopped pulling away. “I’m—”

      “Bradley? Oh, you mean with my sister back there? Getting rid of him? That was a joke.”

      He smiled down at her, and Lucy lost her breath. He was too intense to be handsome and too electric to be ignored. “I love jokes,” he said. “Tell me about it.”

      I’d tell you anything, Lucy thought, and then she heard a sound like a car backfiring. There was a pinging sound and a chip of the brick wall behind them struck her on the cheek and the man swore and yanked her into the alley. He shoved her behind a trash bin and pinned her to the metal with his body, so close to her that her heart thudded against his chest. He was solid and a lot stronger than she was, and she tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

      “What are you doing?” Lucy tried to push him off. “Let go.”

      “Quiet.”

      He eased himself off her slightly, reached inside his jacket, pulled out a gun, and aimed it carefully at the street.

      Lucy froze, part of her mind marvelling at seeing a real gun in the hand of a real felon, the rest of her mind in meltdown. Move, she told her feet, but she stayed frozen against him. She shoved her chin up his chest to get a better look at him, trying to decide whether he was just run-of-the-mill violent or totally deranged.

      He looked big and tense and concentrated. His anvil-like jaw was clenched and his crazy blue eyes swept up and down the street.

      Totally deranged.

      She shifted again, and he whispered without looking at her, “Would you hold still, please?”

      Please? At least he was polite.

      She tried to shove him off her, but he weighed a ton, so she decided to fall back on her former strong suit: brains. “You’re squashing me,” she said, trying to breath around his jacket, and he eased off her a little more, just enough to give her room to lunge for the street. He caught her by the coat before she could take another step, yanking her back and yelling, “Are you crazy?”

      “Me?” Lucy yelled back, trying to jerk her coat away. “What about you? Grabbing women? Let me go.”

      “Listen, lady,” He tried to push her back behind the Dumpster. “I’m…”

      “Let go!” She swung her purse filled with five pounds of physics book and connected with his solar plexus.

      His gasp was an inverted scream, and his grip tightened on her convulsively. She jerked away again, and her shoulder bag swung up hard into his face, catching him solidly on the mouth and neatly splitting his lip. His head jerked up, and then Lucy slugged him along the temple, this time on purpose, not even wincing as his head made a thock sound when her book-filled bag connected. After the last blow, he let go of her and lurched back a step, and she ran down the alley in the opposite direction, propelled by so much adrenaline that when she finally rushed out into the next street, she almost ran into the patrol car that was cruising by.

      “Some horrible man just grabbed me and dragged me into an alley,” she said to the two patrolmen who piled out of the car. She jabbed her finger behind her. “He’s big, and he’s got dark hair and a big jaw, and he’s wearing a horrible old black leather jacket, and he needs a shave, and he’s probably a drug dealer or something!”

      The two men exploded into action, the taller, younger one pounding down the alley while the older, stockier one yelled at her to wait and then followed him.

      Lucy paced back and forth beside the patrol car, vibrating with energy.

      Wow, this was what Tina was talking about. Spontaneity. This was great. This was wonderful. She felt good. Of course, she couldn’t go around beating up every man she met, but…oh, she felt good. She felt really good.

      She checked her watch. The police had been gone forty-five seconds. Einstein’s theory of relativity. Of course. Time passed slower when you were moving. Here she’d been standing still, watching her life rush past her, and all she had to do was do something and it slowed down and became this wonderful, rich…

      Oh, she felt good.

      Sort of.

      She slumped suddenly against the side of the patrol car, her adrenaline spent. Maybe she’d killed him. He deserved it, but maybe she really had hurt him. That physics book was heavy. What had she done? What was she doing? She looked at her watch again. A minute gone now. She couldn’t stay there. She had to go. She couldn’t…

      Lucy put her hand up to her face in confusion and when she brought it