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“Not with you,” I say. It is monotone and not hostile. I should win a fucking Oscar for my performance.
She steps away from me, realizing we have an audience. She pulls her jacket down and tucks her hair behind her ear.
“How long do you think stealing from me will take? I have a full agenda of watching trash TV tonight.”
She stammers. “Um. No. I. These are mine.” She addresses the people in the room.
There’s a knock at my door. I usher in two police officers and my traitor doorman. Who, I must say, looks rather pale. Whoops, there goes his holiday tip. And probably his job.
“What is this? What did you do? Tony. Anthony, answer me!”
I step forward, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Ma’am, there’s a report of a break-in in progress.”
“What?!” And then, like a fucking gift from the gods, the Judas doorman tries to save his skin by shoving my ex under the bus. Hell to the yeah.
“She’s not authorized to be in this apartment. In fact, there’s an injunction in place as well as a sort of restraining order.”
“These are my things,” she says authoritatively. The movers all freeze and look at the officers.
“Ma’am, we don’t want any part of this.” The head mover guy nods to me. I smile widely because this is now the best part of our marriage.
“They’re my belongings.” She doubles down. She always did have moxie.
I grin and say, “Show me the sales slips. Whoops, you can’t. Because I bought them. Hey, fellas, I’ll pay for your time if you can rehang my artwork and reassemble my furniture. And if anyone needs them, my accountant has all the receipts.”
“This is atrocious behavior. How dare you?” God bless her; she’s still huffy as if she’s in the right. Her parents fucked her up.
The officer catches wise and rolls his eyes, “Sir, do you want to press charges for breaking and entering with the intent on burglary and what looks to be grand larceny?”
“You know I do. And toss in the doorman too as an accomplice. Sorry, dude, I was home the whole time. I was here when you let her inside the apartment. You used your key, which I did not authorize.”
The officers are madly writing. “Sir, you know this is an actual B&E.”
I nod. Then I pull a folder from the drawer in my open kitchen and hand it to them. It’s the paperwork that backs me up. She’s legally not allowed to be in this apartment.
One officer looks at the other. “You’re going to have to come with us. You too, sir, to officially press charges.”
“TONY. This is ridiculous. What will people say?”
“I don’t know. But let’s find out.” I rub my hands together and talk into my phone. “Marjie, Tony Ladd.”
Laura gasps because I’ve called the Boston Globe. Why the hell not? I’m in media. I have to get ahead of this and make it my story.
“Can you send someone to meet me down at the…” I gesture to the officers.
“Fourteenth.”
“…Fourteenth precinct. I’m about to have Laura arrested for breaking and entering… I know… It’s a fucking gas. Could not love this more, right? And it’s all yours. I won’t have anyone cover it. You’re welcome. I mean, I do owe you for that thing from the guy from that place…” We both laugh. We often reference Clooney’s Ocean’s Eleven to each other from a failed date like eight years ago. Our friendship is the best thing that came out of it. “Awe, thanks… you too… Drinks soon… You should pay because I’ve just been burgled.”
I slip on some sneakers and grab a coat. “Let’s go.”
The doorman looks like he shit his pants and won’t move. The movers are finishing up. I tip them generously. Laura doesn’t move.
“Darling wife of mine, it’s time to go get fingerprinted. Chop-chop.”
The officers laugh.
