Chapter 2 Cell

Pheobe was absolutely right, Jojo thought, as she sat in her cozy little cell, courtesy of the esteemed Mr. Perfect. She had played the role of a heroine in a romance novel, standing up to the brooding hero, and where had it gotten her? In a beautiful place called CELL, complete with iron bars, a cot, and a lovely view of the parking lot.

Jojo couldn't help but laugh at her current predicament, her anger and bravado having led her down a path she never intended to tread. She had thrown a shoe at the great and powerful Mr. Perfect, and now she was paying the price. She chuckled, shaking her head at her own foolishness. Who throws a shoe at Mr. Sullivan? Only Jojo, it seemed.

As she sat on the cot, her mind wandered back to the scene, and she giggled again, this time more loudly. She could just imagine the look on Mr. Perfect's face when the sneaker hit him. Priceless! She snorted, holding her belly in laughter.

"Look at you, already losing your mind in just one hour in the cell," a young sergeant said, chuckling as he watched Jojo laughing hysterically at her own predicament. "What did you expect, taking on the great and powerful Mr. Sullivan? Everybody knows him for his cranky temper and ability to hold a grudge longer than a camel can go without water."

Jojo sighed, already regretting her impulsive action. "What does he want to do to me?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of trepidation.

The sergeant shrugged, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I don't know, but from what I heard, he went for a CT scan."

Jojo's eyes widened in disbelief. "CT scan? But the sneaker didn't even hit him that hard!" she protested, as if defending her shoe-throwing skills.

The sergeant burst out laughing. "Seems like you don't know Mr. Sullivan. He's a master of drama and exaggeration. Brace yourself for the worst."

With that, he moved to his desk, leaving Jojo's lips parted in wonder. What on earth had she gotten herself into? She thought, her mind racing with possibilities. Was Mr. Sullivan planning to sue her for assault with a deadly sneaker?

***********

In the prestigious PreMax Hospital, Gerald lay on the plush mattress of the VIP ward, his eyes closed as the earlier event replayed in his head like a bad movie. His neatly carved brows furrowed in displeasure, creasing his forehead with deep lines, as he recalled the moment that little woman stood in front of him, daring to defy him. He had taken in her appearance, his gaze lingering on every detail, from her hair pulled back into a ponytail, revealing a face that was both fierce and fragile, to her chopped fringe highlighting her round, owl-like eyes that looked like they held a secret, a curse perhaps. Her pink blouse, tightly fitted, showcased her petite frame, and those fitted jeans, they seemed to be painted on her legs, and those sneakers... the very sneaker she had thrown at him with such precision, such audacity.

His lips curled into a snarl as he inaudibly cursed, "That little rat." His mind seethed with anger, his pride still smarting from the public humiliation. Who did she think she was, anyway? Standing up to him, throwing a shoe at him, as if she were some kind of... of... he couldn't even think of a suitable insult. The very thought of her made his blood boil, and he could feel his heart racing with agitation.

The Doctor cleared his throat to reveal his presence in the ward, sounding like a timid mouse trying to announce its presence in a lion's den. Gerald opened his eyes, his gaze piercing through the doctor and his secretary Colin, who stood like a loyal soldier, holding a clipboard like a shield.

He sat up, crossing his legs in a fluid motion, his pants rustling with a soft whoosh. He looked like a king on his throne, demanding answers from his loyal subjects. "What did the scan say?" he demanded, his voice firm, like a judge pronouncing sentence.

The doctor, a bespectacled man with a kind face, hesitated, his eyes darting to Colin, as if seeking backup. "Well, Mr. Sullivan," he began, his voice measured, "the scan revealed.... a minor concussion."

Gerald's face contorted in outrage. "Minor concussion? Minor concussion?! That little rat almost killed me!"

Colin, the secretary, took a step back, his eyes wide with alarm, as if fearing Gerald's wrath. The doctor, however, stood firm, his expression a mask of professionalism. "I assure you, Mr. Sullivan, it's just a precautionary measure. You'll be back to your usual self in no time."

Gerald snorted, his expression skeptical. "My usual self? You mean, my usual, brilliant, magnificent self?"

The doctor nodded, his face straight. "Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

Gerald sighed, his shoulders relaxing in relief. "That's great news," he said, his deep, husky voice lightening, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I'm going to teach that little rat a lesson." He declared, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

He snapped his fingers, and Colin, his loyal secretary, appeared at his side, tablet at the ready. "Yes, boss?" Colin replied, his eyes fixed on Gerald's face, awaiting instructions.

"That little rat is still locked in a cell, right?" Gerald asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, boss," Colin confirmed, his expression deadpan.

"I want her to compensate for my medical expenses," Gerald said, his voice dripping with drama. "I've suffered a minor concussion, after all. I need to be compensated for my pain and suffering."

Colin nodded solemnly. "Like, how much are you demanding from her, boss?" he asked, his pen poised over his tablet.

Gerald's eyes narrowed, his mind working overtime, as he tallied up the damages. "Hmmm... let's see... I need a therapy session for the trauma of being hit with a sneaker. I'll just call it emotional distress: $50,000." He said, his voice dripping with drama.

Colin wrote it down on the tablet, his expression a mask of professionalism, but his eyes betraying a hint of amusement.

"The time I spent at the hospital would have been used to acquire a company. Let's just call it loss of business opportunities: $100,000." Gerald added, his lips curving into a devious smirk.

The doctor's lips parted in shock at the huge amount Gerald was calling, but Colin wrote it down on his tablet without batting an eyelid.

"Is that all?" Colin asked, his pen poised over the tablet.

"I'm not done," Gerald said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Damage to my designer suit: $10,000... and punitive damages: $200,000."

Colin's eyes widened, his pen hovering over the tablet, as if wondering if he should really write down such an excessive demand. But then, with a shrug, he just wrote it down, no doubt thinking, "Well, it's not my money."

Gerald nodded, satisfied with his tally. "There, that's my total: $660,000. Make sure that little rat pays up, Colin. I won't rest until she's bankrupt."

Colin nodded, his expression still professional, but his eyes sparkling with humor. "Yes, boss. I'll make sure to send her the bill."

Gerald lay back on his plush mattress, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he revelled in the joy of dealing with that little woman. He could almost picture her face contorted in shock and outrage when Colin presented her with the bill. The thought made him chuckle, a low, menacing sound that sent a shiver down Colin's spine.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Gerald thought to himself, his mind already imagining the scene. "That little rat's face will turn beet red with rage, her eyes will bulge out of her head, and she'll probably stamp her foot in anger... again."

He snorted, the sound echoing through the hospital room. "I wish I could be there to see it," he thought, his mind conjuring up a mental image of Jojo's reaction. "But alas, I'll just have to settle for Colin's eyewitness account."

Gerald's smirk grew wider as he settled back into his pillows, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark. "This is going to be a fun one," he thought, already anticipating the showdown between Jojo and his trusty sidekick, Colin.

And with that, he closed his eyes, a contented smile spreading across his face as he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of Jojo's impending meltdown.