Live Today

She eyes him contemptuously.  His need to constantly worry about tomorrow still pisses her off.  She impatiently shoves the steaming mug at him.  Of all the customers to have to deal with today.  Her own pain in the ass soon to be ex-husband!  Mr. Live Like There's No Tomorrow.

"Why are you here?"  She can barely keep her tone civil.  His clothes are starched and ironed, reflecting his anal retentiveness. His black hair slicked back, wind will not make one hair move out of place, rigid.  Like the extra long re-bar stuck up his . . . She sighs and tops off his coffee.  Notices his manicure and curls her fingers in securely around the coffee pot, tucking the other hand in frilly apron pocket.

"Meredith,  I told you, I can't pay you this month.  I had to buy new tires for the bike. . .and my kids need haircuts, school clothes. . ."  He stops his whining to stare hopefully in her wintry blues and then grimaces as he accidentally brushes against her swollen belly.

She steps back, feeling sickened that she ever let him touch her.  Meredith avoids his amber eyes and concentrates on the weak, starting to double-up chin.  "Look, Jake, I don't give a rat's ass about any of your expenses.  You made a promise, it's also court-ordered.  Give me the check now.  Let's keep the lawyers out of this one.  Or you'll really be broke."  Jerk was never broke, he was the Assistant D.A. for cryin' out loud!  He's also going political, wants to be Mayor.

He pouts unbecomingly and pulls out the checkbook. "Let me write it for a thousand less.  Please Mere, I still have to. . .:"

A hiss of pain escapes her lips as the Braxton-Hicks contractions hit.  He scoots back in alarm.  A laugh and gasp all in one at his reaction.  You would think she is carrying Satan's child.  Of course, he kept denying it was his, protesting that he's fixed.  Until the DNA test, that is.  Take that Mr. Mayor Wanna-Be!

He hands her the hastily scrawled check and flees the diner.  Crumpling the offending rectangle, screaming after him that it's not the right amount.  Flipping her off, he gets into his charcoal gray Mercedes S-Class.  Pulls out of the handicap parking space and hits the cop car behind him.  The customers' swiveling heads and expressions. . .priceless.  Sitting down triumphantly and beaming at her friends, now walking towards her from all corners.  They wave the camera phones back at her with matching smiles.  This'll be on YouTube in a couple of minutes. 

She smiles, muttering, "Nothing like planning revenge for tomorrow and getting it today."