Billionaire's Single Mom

"I'm sure he thought you'd had enough stimulants this morning. Nothing like a breakfast of methamphetamine, huh, Chuck?"

"Don't call me that." He glared at the sound of the hated nickname as we all took our seats around the table. I decided to let him keep the chair at the head of the room. No way was I sitting in it again until after it had been thoroughly sanitized, anyway.

"Why not, Chuck? Isn't that what we used to call you?" Vick chimed in.

"Yeah, I remember it, too. Everybody called you Chuck," Gwyneth agreed.

Dorsey was instantly defensive. Glaring at them, he said, "Fine. You all remember me, then. It won't be any trouble for my lawyer to call you on the stand to testify that you know me and that I'm telling the truth when I say Ethan and I were college friends and that we continued to do speed together after we graduated. I've got copies of the old lease showing we rented that place together at the bottom of the hill near the Krueger building. The rest is just my word against yours."

Dorsey was looking right at me with his last statement, but it was Vick who responding by saying, "Actually, it will be my word, too."

"And mine," Gwyneth chimed in.

"What the fuck are two talking about?" Dorsey was annoyed.

Vick grinned and said, "I was on that lease, too, and I remember things far differently than you do. If I recall, I was the one who said Ethan should name the company Speed Motorcycles when he broke out on his own."

"And, I remember it that way, too. I was Ethan's girlfriend at the time, but I'd already developed a crush on Vick and used to hang on his every word. I thought the joke was so funny, I even wrote about it in my diary, talking about how cute he was. Look, I even drew a little heart around his name."

Gwyneth produced a pink leather diary from her handbag and showed it to Dorsey, being careful to keep it just out of Dorsey's reach.

"That looks like written evidence to me — the kind that refutes your testimony and makes you liable for perjury charges, unless you have evidence of your own to dispute it," my lawyer stated. Dorsey flew off the edge, leaping at Gwyneth from across the table.

"You fucking bitch! Give me that damn diary or I'll take you from you and shove it down your fucking throat!" Dorsey was ranting, but Vick was quick to step between them, protecting her from his flailing hands, and shoved Dorsey back into his chair.

"Treat her like that again, and I'll beat you unconscious," Vick said sternly with his fist in Dorsey's face, and we all believed him.

Dorsey was trembling as he leaned back in his chair, trying to put some distance between his nose and Vick's meaty fist, but there was no place for him to go.

"All right. I lost my temper, that's all," Dorsey said, but his voice was shaky and no longer surly.

"You're about to lose more than that, starting with this lawsuit and ending with your freedom." I turned to my lawyer and said, "What's the penalty for perjury if Dorsey lies on the stand and says the idea for the company was his when two witnesses testify it wasn't true and one even has physical evidence to prove it?"

"Well, it's up to the judge, but I'd say a minimum of one year per instance, so it just depends on how many lies you tell," my lawyer stated simply. Dorsey instantly went pale.

I looked at Vick and said, "I'm having a get together with the rest of the guys we rented that house with. You remember Mike and Trevor? I thought the five of us could have a reunion. What are the chances they'll remember it was you who suggested the name, and not Chuck?"

"I'd say the chances are damn good, since Mike was the one who reminded me about it when we were playing golf just last week. We were talking about the lawsuit, and right as I'm trying to tee-up, he said to me, 'Dorsey always got shit wrong when he was high. It was you who said it to Ethan. Then you made that stupid banner with a picture of motorcycle on it that you drew. I took a picture of it.' He said he would find the picture in his old scrapbook and bring it to our next golf game."

"So that makes even more evidence in our favor; unless, of course, you plan to sue me, too," I said to Vick, giving him a brotherly slap on the back.

"No way." He shook his head. "Why would I want to sue you based on a joke made 20 years ago? This company is all yours. I will testify for you in court, though, to get this asshole thrown in jail for perjury."

Dorsey was on his feet now, looking shaky and pale. He cried out frantically, "This is bullshit. Get your gang of old housemates together to gang-up on me in court. The judge will see I'm the one telling the truth and the rest of you are lying with your fake pictures and diaries.

“I'm not afraid of you, but a lawsuit is time consuming and I'm a busy man. I've been talking to my lawyer, and I've been thinking that maybe I should let you off the hook and settle out of court."

"That's mighty generous of you," I was sarcastic as hell, but Dorsey mistook my words as sincerity.

"That's what friends are for. I'll tell you what I'll do for you. I'll go ahead and accept your original offer and settle out of court for a million dollars."

"I'm sorry, but that offer has been revoked. I'll pay for you to stay at Garden Hope Rehab Center for as long as they're giving you treatment and not a penny more."

"I don't need any fucking treatment. Just give me the cash and I'll be on my way."

"Charles, I know what it's like to be where you are: lonely, scared, desperate. We were friends once. Let me be your friend again. Let me help you," I said softy and put a hand on Dorsey's shoulder.

Gwyneth and Vick circled around him in a show of support.