"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.
"You don't have to do this alone. Let Garden Hope do for you what it did for Ethan." Gwyneth kissed his cheek and Dorsey finally broke down crying.
"I don't need fucking treatment, but if it will shut you assholes up, I'll go," he said.
"It's a start," Vick said, but I shook my head.
"That's not enough, Charles. Garden Hope only works if you quit denying how bad of shape you're in and admit you need help. I know how tough it is, but once you do it, then life can finally start to get better."
We had a heart-to-heart talk, and finally Dorsey admitted that he was addicted to speed and conceded to needing help. I called Garden Hope myself and admitted him into the center. They sent a car to come pick him up, and I signed all the necessary documents.