"Yes, I did, but I had just cause."
"No, you didn't!" a petulant voice shouted from the back of the room. "I was the best dancer you ever had. You had no reason to fire me!"
Vanda glanced back at Jem. "You were trying to sell your services. I run a dance club, not a brothel."
"The ladies were begging for me," Jem argued.
"And you charged them money?" Roman asked.
Jem huffed. "Of course I did. And I'm worth it! I'm the best there is."
Roman looked unimpressed. "The first suit is dismissed."
"What?" Jem squealed. "But I need my job back. How will I make a living?"
Roman shrugged. "It appears you have already embarked upon your next career. You may leave."
Jem muttered some cusswords as he stalked out the door.
Vanda felt a small measure of relief. One accuser down and two to go.
"The second suit?" Roman asked Laszlo.
"Yes, sir." The secretary fumbled through his papers. "Reckless endangerment at the workplace. This plaintiff also wishes to go by his stage name." Laszlo fiddled with a button on his lab coat. "Peter the Great, Prince of P-P-Peckers." The button popped off and rolled across the table.
Roman's wife covered her mouth. The sound of snickering drifted about the room. Even the priest was smiling.
Gregori leaned close to Vanda and whispered loudly, "How many pickled peppers did the Prince of Peckers pick?"
Vanda snorted and elbowed him in the ribs.
Roman lifted his gaze with an exasperated look as if he were asking God, Why me? He schooled his features and regarded the crowd seriously. "Is Mister...Prince here?"
"Yeth!" A slender man in the back row stood. He flipped his long blond hair over one shoulder. "I'm the Printh of Peckerth."
"You were injured at work?" Roman asked.
"Yeth," Peter continued with his lisping voice. "I wath danthing when I thlipped in a puddle of water."
"He wanted the water," Vanda interrupted. "Peter wanted to pull a chain and have ten gallons of water fall on top of him."
"You asked for the water?" Roman asked.
"Yeth. All the little water dropleth were glithening on my bare thkin. I wath incredibly beautiful."
"I'll take your word for it," Roman muttered. "And then you slipped?"
"Yeth! It wath awful. I fell on my nothe and broke it."
"You broke...what?" Roman asked.
"His nose," Vanda explained. "But we fixed it, and it's perfectly normal now."
"It ith not!" Peter planted his hands on his hip. "Now my voithe hath a terrible nathal quality to it, and everyone laughth at me."
The room filled with snorts of laughter.
"You thee?" Peter wiped at his teary eyes. "They're laughing at me. I'm thuffering from emotional trauma."
Roman sighed. "Mr. Prince, your accident was indeed regrettable, but I fail to see how you can hold Ms. Barkowski accountable when you requested the water yourself."
Peter crossed his arms and scowled. "She should have protected me."
"I reset your nose and gave you the rest of the night off," Vanda said. "You were the one who up and quit."
Peter pouted. "I want my job back."
"Is that all right with you?" Roman asked Vanda.
"Yes. I was always happy with Peter's work."
"Good." Roman nodded. "You'll hire him back, and we'll dismiss the second suit. Laszlo, the last suit, please?"
"Yes, sir." Laszlo shuffled through his papers. "Assault with a deadly weapon. The plaintiff goes by the stage name 'Max the Mega Member. " Laszlo plucked at another button on his lab coat.
Roman gazed about the room. "Mister...Mega Member? Will you describe the alleged incident?"
"Alleged, my ass." Max jumped up from his seat. "She put a three-inch hole in my chest. If she'd hit my heart, I would have perished on the spot!"
"My mistake," Vanda muttered. "My aim was off."
"Then you admit to injuring this man?" Roman asked.
"He was calling me filthy names in front of my employees," Vanda explained. "I couldn't let him get away with that."
Roman frowned. "I believe firing him would have been a more reasonable course of action than stabbing him."
"She did fire me!" Max shouted. "The bitch claimed I was a lousy dancer, and that's total bullshit."
"You are a lousy dancer!" Vanda turned to Roman. "He did a dance with a fifteen-foot-long python, and it got loose and wrapped itself around one of my customers. She had to teleport away before it could crush her. I told Max to take his snake and hit the road."
Roman nodded. "A logical decision."
"But the bitch attacked me!" Max bellowed.
"Only after you verbally assaulted me!" Vanda shouted.
"What did you attack him with?" Roman asked.
"I wasn't going anywhere near him as long as he had that damned snake, so I grabbed one of my shoes and threw it at him." Vanda shrugged. "I guess I threw it kinda hard cause the stiletto heel sorta stuck in his chest."
"She nearly killed me!" Max hollered.
"And you nearly killed a customer with your snake," Roman reminded him. "Did your injury heal itself during your death-sleep?"
"Well, yeah, but that doesn't make it okay for her to attack me."
Roman drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. "I am not going to find fault with a woman defending herself against a verbally abusive male."
"Yes!" Vanda punched the air.
"I'm not finished." Roman gave her a stern look. "Your method of defense was inappropriate. I'm sure you have some kind of security who could have removed Mr. Mega Member from the premises."
Vanda shrugged. She did have a huge bouncer.
"This is the third time since the opening of your club that you have been summoned here because of inappropriate and violent behavior," Roman continued. "In short, Ms. Barkowski, you have a problem with anger."
"Yeah!" Max yelled. "She's a crazy bitch!"
"Enough," Roman warned the ex-dancer. "I am dismissing the charges under the condition that Ms. Barkowski take a class in anger management."
Vanda grimaced. Not again.
"This is bullshit," Max declared. "That bitch owes me! I demand to be compensated for the trauma she caused me."
"I'll give you some compensation." Vanda shook a fist at him. "Let's meet in the parking lot - "
"Vanda, enough!" Roman glowered at her.
She glared back.
"You are exhibiting a serious lack of control," he stated quietly. "Obviously, one class of anger management wasn't enough for you."
"Yeah, she flunked anger management!" Max snickered. "You just wait, bitch. I'll give you something to be angry about."
"You are now officially under a restraining order," Roman told the ex-dancer. "You will stay away from Ms. Barkowski, or you will be fined five thousand dollars."
"What?" Max looked aghast. "What did I do?"
"Laszlo, call security to have Mr. Mega Member removed," Roman ordered.
"Yes, sir." Laszlo punched a button on his desk.
"All right, all right, I'm leaving." Max strode from the room.
"The third suit is dismissed," Roman announced, "and Ms. Barkowski has agreed to attend a second round of anger management classes."
Vanda gritted her teeth as amused whispering sounded around the room. "I don't recall agreeing to anything."
"You will attend." Roman regarded her sternly. "Father Andrew has graciously offered to counsel you again."
She groaned inwardly. The mortal priest was a kindly old man, but he didn't have a clue about all she'd been through in her long life. And she really didn't want to tell him. Or anyone.
Father Andrew smiled at her. "I look forward to getting to know you better, my child."
Vanda crossed her arms. "Whatever."
"I will need a volunteer to be her sponsor," Father Andrew continued.
The murmuring in the room came to an abrupt halt. Absolute silence.
Great. With her superior senses, Vanda could hear the crickets chirping outside Romatech. She felt heat rising up her neck. No one wanted anything to do with her. "I don't need a sponsor."