Chapter 5: Gee, Bitter Much?
Doc Hopper, dressed in a dark grey suit, a white shirt, and a black tie, sat on a leather sofa in the front lobby of the massive financial institution, tapping his foot impatiently.
“Mr. Hopper?” asked an adult female voice. “What a pleasure it is to see you!”
Hopper stood up, dusted his legs off, and frowned at the thin Caucasian female with reddish-brown shoulder-length hair. “Ah don’t like wastin’ mah time, honey-bunch.”
The female smirked and extended her hand. “I’m sorry,” she replied snarkily. “I was busy spending all of your money. I find it quite cathartic.”
Hopper chuckled and scratched his head. He nodded and shook her hand. “Long as ya let me take a peek at it ev’ry now an’ again, you can do whatever you like, sugah-muffin,” he added, tickling her chin.
The female executive smirked and turned around briskly, motioning for him to follow. “Let’s retire to my office, shall we?”
Hopper laughed.
The woman stopped cold, clenching her fists. “Not everything is an innuendo,” she growled. Once they were in her office, which was cold and dark, she sat down on her extravagant black leather chair and put her feet on her desk. “So,” she said, “how can Bitterman Bank help Doc Hopper today?”
Doc Hopper picked up a pencil from her desk and twirled it around in his fingers. “Ah dunno,” he began, “Ah hear ya got took in a right ugly deal last year – a deal that’ll cost ya millions.”
The woman cleared her throat and put her feet down. She leaned forward. “I assure you that I have plenty of assets,” she told him. “I’m simply investing in the community.”
“Funny, you don’t seem like the charity type.”
“Neither do you,” she retorted curtly.
Hopper frowned. “It’s a right shame that some little shrimp took your club away.”
The woman smirked and leaned back. “It’s just awful how one little – admittedly frustrating – amphibian can tear down a fast-food empire … or at least a small fast-food town.”
Hopper clenched his fists. “Ah’m sorely tempted ta take mah money elsewhere, Bitterman.”
Ms. Bitterman laughed and shrugged. “I’m quite certain there are countless other two-bit redneck hacks with a fistful of Monopoly money and a delusion of grandeur just waiting to open an account with us.”
Hopper growled under his breath and stood, tipping his hat, turning, and walking away. As soon as he opened the door, a two-foot-tall green frog looked up in shock.
“Doc Hopper?”
Hopper couldn’t help but grin. “Funny thing ‘bout dreams, Kermit – nevah quite work out the way ya figure, huh?” he asked as he stomped past the small amphibian carrying a briefcase.
Ms. Bitterman cracked an expensive pen with one hand.
Kermit watched Doc Hopper leave and then entered Ms. Bitterman’s office. “What was he doing here? He didn’t buy out the Theater, did he?”
Ms. Bitterman stared at her desk and shrugged slightly. “Why the concern?”
Kermit plopped the briefcase onto her desk, startling her. He opened it and revealed thousands of dollars in cash. “Because I had to leave my home on account of him!” He sat down, but got up again and started pacing. “Even though it wasn’t always peaceful, I had a great little house over on Sesame Street. It was nicely decorated and everything!”
Ms. Bitterman watched him pace. “It’s not like he tore your house down. I am also not aware of any restraining orders against you.”
Kermit growled and sat back down, sulking. “I can’t live in a neighborhood owned by a murderer.”
Ms. Bitterman smiled genuinely for the first time today. “It wouldn’t have been murder. Didn’t you hear the verdict? If a human killing an animal or a plant is murder, we’d all be in prison just by virtue of eating.”
Kermit bit his lower lip briefly. She enjoyed anything that made him suffer. He could never figure out why, though. She could be worse than Hopper. It didn’t matter who they stepped on – as long as they made money doing it. He nodded toward the briefcase. “There’s your money,” he said finally. He stood, looking back at her. He spoke in a genuinely caring voice. “Ms. Bitterman? Don’t turn your back on him. He knows crooks with good aim.”
Ms. Bitterman granted him the barest of nods. “Not too good – you’re still here, aren’t you?”
Kermit nodded once. “Still,” he said quietly, “don’t close your eyes around him.” He left.
Doc Hopper, meanwhile, stewed in his limo. How dare that overblown upstart hussy talk to him that way? It wasn’t like talking to that grouch reporter – those clowns are just into being the opposite of what everyone else does. No, she meant what she said, and that infuriated him. This was the third time she had brushed him off. Most women would faint on the pure sight of him. He clenched his fist so hard, a tiny trickle of blood dripped down his palm. He had no problems bagging any woman he wanted. Most men might be ashamed if a woman only loved him for his money. He shook his head. That was the only way to make sure they stuck around. Only an idiot would sacrifice a sure thing.
He nodded.
Only an idiot would sacrifice a sure thing.
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