‘The Marriage Contract’ by Guest Author Bobbi Carducci

Bobbi Carducci

Author Bobbi Carducci

“Damn it Jim, I can’t believe your asking me to do this. You know what my schedule’s like this week, and tomorrow is a nightmare too. I have at least a dozen things on my to-do list as it is. I’ve closed a couple of contracts of my own in the last month, and on top of that, our daughter, the economics major, has once again overdrawn her checking account and needs an emergency infusion of cash or she won’t be able to buy her textbooks for the new term. “Where are you calling from anyway? It sounds as if you’re standing next to a freight train.”

“You know I wouldn’t ask unless it was an emergency. I’ve been trying to finalize this contract for three days. Every time I’m supposed to deliver it, Ferguson’s schedule changes and he doesn’t show up.  I have to be here tomorrow. I have a firm commitment that he will be there this time. Besides, it will only take you a few minutes. Just deliver the contract and bing, bang, boom; you’re out of there and on your way home.”

“You and your bing, bang, boom. Can you imagine how long it’s going to take me to get out of the city at 4:00 on a Friday afternoon?  I’ll be sitting in traffic for almost two hours, and that’s only if the rain holds off.  If so much as a drop falls from the sky, you can tack on another thirty minutes easy. That will really put me behind and God help me if I show up late for your mother’s dinner party. She’s expecting Senator Livingston, hoping to get backing for her latest pet project, ‘Save the D.C. Virgins’ or some other mythical species she’s adopted.”

“Glad to see you retain your sense of humor, my love. So you’ll do it?”

“Yes, I’ll do it. You knew I would. And where are you calling from?”

“ From right next to a freight train of course. Sleep well my love. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.”

‘I ought to have my head examined,’ Bev thought, maneuvering her way down Constitution Avenue. He knows I hate coming into the city. That’s why I work in the suburbs.’

Well shit, another detour. Now which way do I go?  Hey, don’t bother blowing your horn at me, mister. Give me a minute to get my bearings; it’s not my fault the damn manhole covers are exploding down here every other day.”

Finally, she spotted the restaurant and with six minutes to spare. And there was Jim’s client sitting alone at an outdoor table, enjoying a glass of white wine.  It took only seconds to execute the contract and walk back to the car.  Not a drop of rain in sight.

“How did the dinner party go?”

“Not very well, I’m afraid. Your mother was very upset when her guest of honor failed to appear.”

“I saw that on the news. What a shame.”

“Yes, I’m watching Channel Seven now.”

“D.C. Mayor Vincent Gray promises an intense investigation into the daring daylight shooting of Senator Charles S. Livingston as he enjoyed his traditional afternoon glass of wine at local area restaurant.  Police are at a loss to provide a motive for the brutal slaying of one of our nations most respected leaders. Senator Livingston began his career in politics as a young man in……”

“I wonder what the motive was?”

“You’ll never know my dear. That’s just how it goes. You get a contract and bing, bang, boom, you do your job and you go home. Thanks for helping me out on this one. Love you. See you tomorrow.”

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