Counterclaim
Flicka von Hannover
Legal Ties That Bind.
Pierre had twenty days to respond to the court notice, and he waited until the very last day.
Nearly three weeks later, Flicka was at work when she heard the news.
Her bar was humming along smoothly, sucking money from gamblers who were betting on keno and sports in a desperate attempt to win something beforethey lost everything. People shouted at the screens and talked, clinking their glasses and rustling their tickets. An argument raged in a corner about NFL officiating.
For those several weeks, ever since she had dropped the divorce documents on the clerk’s desk, seen them stamped, and received a receipt, she’d felt like the legal ties that bound her to Pierre had thinned. It felt like she washolding a giant ax above the tendon of their legal bonds, ready to swing that sucker and chop the crap out of it. It felt like power.
Prissy had given Flicka another raise after she’d done the monthly tallies, nearly cackling her glee. “I can’t believe you never went to bartending school, Gretchen or whatever your name is. You certainly know how to push the liquor.”
Flicka laughed. “I’ve beenaround alcohol my whole life. I bleed Jägermeister.”
Prissy snorted and sent her back to the bar.
There, Flicka surreptitiously checked her phone that she had hidden behind the row of Kentucky bourbons while sports fans cheered and yelled at the players on the televisions in the dark casino.
A text from her Parisian lawyer Joachim Blanchard read,Grimaldi has filed a counterclaim contestingdivorce and seeking dismissal. Claims that Nevada has no jurisdiction because he is resident of Monaco, claims diplomatic immunity to any proceeding against him, essentially claims that you cannot divorce him anywhere that he says you can’t. Shall I write response?
A link below his text led to an electronic copy of the paperwork filed with the county.
Flicka wanted to throw her phone acrossthe room. Those legal cords were tougher than they looked, and they were goddamn strangling her.
When she looked over to where Dieter sat, playing poker, he was gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, but he sat back in his chair, tossed some cards into the center of the table, and glanced at her.
That odd blankness on his face meant that he was as angry as she was.
They should have expected something like this from Pierre. Of course, he wasn’t going to let her have a quickie divorce in Nevada and be done with him. That bastard was going to do everything he could to make this as painful as possible, the asshole.
Fine.Her ancestors were battle-tested warrior princes, not thieves who pretended to be Catholic monks to sneak into a castle and murder the guards.If Pierre wanted a fight, she would damn well fight.
Flicka texted back to Joachim,Yes, draft the response.
The next day, Flicka sat in the front yard while Alina played with her two little friends, Meti and Tabitha. They gamboled around the yard like puppies while she sat in the October sun. The desert had finally cooled enough to be tolerable.
The text from the lawyer Joachim read,Judgehas set a hearing date for two weeks from now to decide if grounds for dismissal exist. She may rule on anything at that hearing. I’ll be there.
Dieter opened the door behind her. “Did you see it?”
“Yeah.” Alina and the other two girls were rubbing their hands in the dirt and comparing grubbiness. Flicka was not sure that was hygienic, but they seemed to be having too much fun to interfere.
“Pierre will send lawyers.”
“I’m sure of it.”
“I can’t believe that son of a bitch is trying this. I can’t believe he’s saying that you can’t divorce him, that you have to remain married to him whether you like it or not.”
“I can believe it.” Flicka watched the children, alert to intervene if they started to throw dirt. They didn’t, though. They just compared their dirty hands with each other.“He likes to control things. A whole country isn’t enough for him. He has to control me, too.”
“He knows you’ll have to be there in person. He’ll probably send his Secret Service to try to kidnap you and take you to Monaco.”
“I’m sure he will.” Flicka watched the desert sun dancing through the leaves of the trees. Cool air crossed her face. These might be her last few days in Las Vegas, so shebreathed in the dusty air and watched the pretty baby Alina playing with her baby friends.
“I won’t let him take you,” Dieter said, sitting down behind her and wrapping his arms around her. “Like I said, if anything happens to me, Magnus Jensen will lead you out. Be ready for him. Knowing him, he’ll rappel from the ceiling at three in the morning, just to one-up Aiden.”
