by Erin Lyon
“I understand that, but surely you are ready for this to be over? This settlement has been in the works for two years. You don’t want your life to pass you by because you are fighting over an animal.”
“Elvis.”
I nodded. “Elvis.”
“Okay,” she said, leaning toward me across the table. “I’ll give him the grandfather clock.”
I nodded. “Alright. That seems like a reasonable offer. I’ll call his attorney this afternoon and see what she has to say.”
Dot stood, shook my hand, and marched out of the room. I don’t blame Joe for wanting to unload this. I’d only spent thirty minutes with the woman and I felt as though she’d somehow sucked months off my life.
* * *
That night, as I was changing out of my suit, my phone buzzed.
It was from Jonathan.
Hey. I was wondering if I could swing by? I have a box of your things that you missed.
Sure.
I hadn’t seen Jonathan in more than a week, since I told him I needed to some space to figure out where we were at—and whether we had a future.
You know, I don’t actually know where you live anymore. Are you going to tell me? Or are you in witness protection?
I am, but as long as you call me ‘Sally’ and talk in a southern accent, we should be fine.
I typed in my address.
Hahaha. See you soon.
A few minutes later, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find Jonathan, dressed in his usual work attire of khakis and a polo shirt. He shifted the box he was holding to one hand and reached in to do the one-arm-hug thing. I hugged him back. Then he set the box down on my coffee table and made a slow circle of the downstairs, peeking into the kitchen, before coming back to stand in front of me.
“Very nice. Very you,” he said.
“Thank you. I agree,” I said with a nod.
He had his customary five o’clock shadow, since, for him, a morning shave was only good till early evening. His whiskers seemed to accentuate his Latino blood; he had the dark scruff to match his dark hair and bronze skin.
“So, how have you been?” he asked.
“You mean in the week since we last went out?”
“Well, technically it’s been twelve days,” he said with a seductive smile, narrowing his warm brown eyes at me.
See, the tricky thing with Jonathan is that we have too much history. Too many laughs, too much great sex. And all that history made him an all-or-nothing scenario. I either needed to take him back or end things clean. Not really anything in between. This all or nothing seemed to be giving me heart palpitations.
“Keeping track, huh?” I asked with a smirk.
“Like a fifteen-year-old girl marking off the days till prom.”
I laughed. “Except you’re counting the days since.”
He stepped in toward me, near enough that it felt like the sliver of space between us was being compressed. “Well, I hope I’m counting down to something.”
My brain did a quick run-through of what it would be like right now to just say Okay—let’s get back together. It would be so easy. So comfortable. I’d finally get laid again, for the first time in weeks. And I was happy with him. I could be happy again.
But I couldn’t do it. There was some indefinable barrier that seemed to make the words impossible to say.
Jonathan put his hands on my shoulders and chuckled. “Okay. Just stop. You look like you’re trying to make Sophie’s choice instead of just deciding whether or not to give me another shot.”
I gave him a little smile, appreciating his interference. “Sorry.”
He shook his head. “I’m not trying to pressure you.” He brushed a thumb across my cheek. “I just miss you.”
“I know,” I sighed. “I miss you, too.”
We stared at each other quietly for a few seconds. “Okay,” he said. “Rather than give you the chance to follow that up with a ‘but,’ I’m just going to go.” He gave me a big smile, but it lacked his usual sincerity. As he turned to leave, he let one of his hands slide from my shoulder to my hand, and he held it on the way to the door.
When he turned to me before leaving, I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed him tightly. When I pulled back and looked at him, his old smile had returned.
“Talk to you soon,” he said.
“Absolutely.” I smiled at him, watching him walk toward his car. And 50 percent of me wanted to stop him from leaving, hold on to him, and never let go. Unfortunately, the other 50 percent felt like I was dragging things out and that I needed to let him go for good. Well, they say admitting you have a problem is always the first step.
CHAPTER 7
“Hello, Kate.”
I looked up the next morning and Jared Mann was standing in front of my desk, hands in the pockets of his slacks. Jared was the youngest partner in the firm, with a superhero jawline to go with his handsome face and a villain’s reputation for making his paralegals cry when they didn’t meet his high standards.
“Hey,” I responded.
“Keeping busy?”
“Pretty busy. I’ve got one client that seems to be calling for a daily therapy session, and Joe just gave me a couple that has been fighting over a guinea pig for two years.”
He laughed. “Elvis. Well, I hate to ask last minute, but could you possibly cover a child support hearing this afternoon?”
“Sure. I assume it’s pretty straightforward if you aren’t worried about sending in the newbie with no prep time?”
He smiled. “Well, yes it is straightforward, but I have no doubt that you’d be able to handle anything I threw at you.” Then he just stared. Weird habit of his.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
He set a file on my desk. “Candice Mariani. Her mother, Lois, has been our client for years. Candice is twenty, never signed, has a nine-month-old baby. Lois is a great lady. I’m not sure how she turned out a screwup like Candice.”
“Well, accidentally getting pregnant doesn’t necessarily make you a screwup,” I said with a shrug.
Jared gave a faint smile and tapped the file. “The guy we filed the motion against is in custody. Possession with intent to distribute. And then he peed on the arresting officer.”
I grimaced. “Gotcha. So, the jail ships him over for the hearing, I’m assuming?”
“Yep. He’ll be there. Remember, Lois pays our bills, but Candice is the client. Watch what you say in front of Lois or you can destroy attorney–client privilege.”
“Right. Thanks for the reminder.”
“Thanks, Kate. You’re a lifesaver.”
I read through the motion quickly to get a feel for the case. The baby daddy was named Matthew Taylor, thirty-eight years old. Hm. That would have put Candice in the “barely legal” category while hooking up with a much older man. Lovely.
I got to court with plenty of time to spare that afternoon so that I’d have extra time to track down Candice before the hearing. This time, at least, I’d seen a picture, so I was able to spot her right away.
From looking at her, I’m thinking she may have met her drug dealer ex as a buyer. Which makes me a little sad, considering that she’s got a little baby to take care of. Candice was really skinny and dressed up for court by throwing on some holey jeans and a T-shirt that slipped off one shoulder. This was coupled with a bright pink streak in her dirty hair and a ring through her nose. Lois was standing next to her, looking tired. I see Jared’s point. Lois looks like a middle-aged soccer mom. The apple fell far from the tree. And rolled into the gutter. And maybe got peed on by a homeless guy.
I shook their hands and introduced myself.
“So, this should be pretty straightforward. We’ll get a child support order in place, but obviously the award will be little to nothing at this point, since he’s in custody and not making any money. But once you have the award in place, it’s a lot easier to go back to court for adjustments when he does become employe
d again in the future,” I said. “And his child support will accrue, so if he ever comes into any money, it will go to pay off what he owes you first. Tax returns, anything like that.”
“Thanks, Kate,” Lois said.
“He’s still making money. Even in there,” Candice muttered with a frown.
Well, crap. No one gave me a crash course on how to get child support paid from illegal endeavors. “But I’m guessing the money is cash and there’s no paper trail?”
“Yeah,” Candice said, tucking her pink streak of hair behind her ear.
“If he had a bank account or something, we could go after that, but cash will be nearly impossible to prove. Or find.”
“Asshole,” Candice surmised.
Not going to argue with you there.
We filed into the courtroom and sat down. Within a few minutes, Judge Warner appeared, once again channeling Mark Twain. Nice to see he hadn’t trimmed his bushy white mustache. I quickly reached into my bag and pulled the battery out of my phone. I’d made my stellar first impression on Judge Warner by allowing my phone to ring. In court. I feel pretty certain that it was only our mutual affinity for the Law & Order theme song that saved me from being removed by the bailiff that day. When I looked over, Lois was watching me, smiling.
“Bad experience,” I whispered.
We were third on the calendar, but I was guessing we’d go first because we had an in-custody defendant.
“I understand we have an in-custody, so we’ll start with that matter,” Judge Warner said. “Candice Mariani and Matthew Taylor.”
Candice followed me through the gate and stood next to me at the table.
“Kate Shaw for Ms. Mariani, Your Honor.”
“Good morning, Ms. Shaw. Does Mr. Taylor have counsel?”
“Here, Your Honor,” a voice said. I looked over my shoulder, and a thirtysomething guy with a beard and glasses was walking toward the table. “Thomas Stein, appearing as court appointed parent advocate.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stein.”
A door at the side of the courtroom nearest to Stein opened and the bailiff brought in Matthew Taylor, who was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and wrist shackles.
Holy. Shit. He’s that Matt Taylor. The years had not been kind. He didn’t look thirty-eight; he looked fifty. His hair was overgrown and hanging in his eyes and he had multicolored whiskers covering his face. My heart started beating faster and my palms got sweaty. I love my life. Please don’t recognize me. Please, please, please.
Matt looked down the table, right past Candice, and his eyes rested on me a moment before recognition hit him. Then he lit up like a damn Christmas tree. “Katie?”
Shoot me. No, really. Now would be a good time. I dated Matt when I was sixteen and he was twenty. And not a felon.
Judge Warner looked at me, bushy eyebrows raised. “Ms. Shaw, do you know the defendant?”
“A little, Your Honor.”
Matt chimed in. “She’s my ex-girlfriend, Judge.” Dick.
“Not exactly,” I fumbled. “Briefly, Your Honor, when I was a teenager. I haven’t seen the defendant in nearly … eighteen years.”
I got the feeling Judge Warner was doing his damnedest to hide his amusement.
“Any conflict?”
“None, Your Honor,” I said, careful to not look back in Matt’s direction. Or Candice’s. I didn’t want to see how she was taking the news that we’d dated the same guy. I would deal with that little fact later, with a bottle of wine and a hot shower.
“Ms. Mariani, do you have any problem with Ms. Shaw’s involvement in this matter, in light of her prior knowledge of Mr. Taylor?”
She glanced at me a second and responded, “Nope.”
“Mr. Stein?”
Stein just shrugged.
“Okay, let’s begin, then,” Judge Warner said. “Your motion, Ms. Shaw.”
“Your Honor, Mr. Taylor is the father of Ms. Mariani’s nine-month-old child. We’re asking the Court to put a child support order in place at this time, based on whatever income Mr. Taylor has available.”
“Mr. Stein?”
“One moment, Your Honor.” Stein went over to Matt and leaned down and the two of them whispered for a couple of minutes. “Your Honor, we’re requesting the child’s birth date.”
The judge looked back at us. I looked at Candice.
“August twentieth, sir,” Candice responded.
“Was that near the due date?” Stein asked.
“A couple days late,” Candice said. I tried not to notice the way she started rubbing her palms against her jeans and fidgeting.
Stein tapped something into his iPad, then he walked back over and whispered to Matt. Matt laughed and nodded.
“Your Honor, based on the child’s birth date, Mr. Taylor cannot be the father.”
Close your mouth, Kate. Deep breath. I shot a quick look at Candice, but she just looked confused.
“Your Honor,” I asked, “how can Mr. Stein say with any certainty?”
“Mr. Stein?” Judge Warner asked, raising his bushy eyebrows.
“I have a conception calculator and, based on the birth date, conception would have occurred around November twenty-second of the prior year. Mr. Taylor was in custody on an unrelated charge from October second and was not released until the nineteenth of December.” Of course he was.
“Bailiff, could you confirm those in-custody dates?” Judge Warner asked.
The bailiff started typing in his computer and I looked down at Candice. She frowned and looked a little perplexed.
“Your Honor, there are multiple ‘Matthew Taylor’ inmates. I’ll need Mr. Taylor’s birth date to find him,” the bailiff said.
“November sixth, nineteen seventy-nine,” Matt said.
“Nineteen seventy-nine!” Candice shrieked, loud enough so that half the courtroom undoubtedly heard her. “He’s almost forty!” she said. “I can’t believe I fucked an old guy!” Okay. Clearly Candice had concerns other than the identity of her baby daddy.
I looked at her, gave her a stern “Shh,” and put my forefinger across my lips in the universal Shut your piehole gesture. To my surprise, she actually listened and stopped ranting about Matt’s age.
The bailiff began speaking again a minute later. “Mr. Taylor was in the county jail on those dates, Your Honor.”
“Ms. Shaw?”
“I apologize, Your Honor. We withdraw the motion.”
“Thank you. Case dismissed.”
“Kate!” Matt called out.
Against my better judgment, and, really, because I didn’t think before I did it, I looked over at Matt. He was grinning and giving me the Call me hand gesture with his thumb and pinky, and he mouthed it to me as well, for good measure, as the bailiff led him back out of the courtroom by the arm. In his spiffy orange jumpsuit. And now my day is perfect.
I looked back at the judge, wide-eyed. He’d given in to his amusement and was smiling at me. My face was probably so red that I looked about ready to have a stroke. I gave him a half-embarrassed, half-apologetic look and slipped out of the courtroom.
Back outside, I turned to Lois. “I’m very sorry about that. It never occurred to me it would be the Matt Taylor I knew.”
“It’s a common name,” she said, shaking her head. “And we should be the ones apologizing,” she said, her tone hardening as she turned to Candice.
“So weird,” Candice said. “I was so sure it was him.”
“And now that it isn’t, does that tell you who it is?” I asked.
She frowned. “It narrows it down.”
The look of embarrassment and defeat on Lois’s face was enough to hush up my baby-maker for a while. Definitely the most effective form of birth control.
“Well, if you figure it out, call me.” I gave Lois what I hoped was a consoling pat on the shoulder and left the courthouse.
* * *
I got into my office and dropped down into my chair. Mags immediately appeared and sat on t
he edge of my desk. She was wearing a snug red dress, red shoes, red lipstick.
“How was court?” she said, wiggling her dark eyebrows up and down.
“Hm. Tricky question. The part where the in-custody baby daddy turned out to be an ex-boyfriend of mine? Or the part where my client had accused the wrong baby daddy, because he was in lockup when she got knocked up?”
Mags erupted into genuine laughter. “No!”
I nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. On both counts.”
“I didn’t know you went for the bad boys, Kate.”
“Well, I think I dated him pre–rap sheet. Does that count for anything?”
“No. Did he recognize you?”
“This is me, Mags. Has my luck ever been good enough that I could make it out of there without him spotting me?”
“No?”
“No. And he informed the court that I was his ex-girlfriend.”
“Oh my god!” Mags said, falling into hysterics again. She dabbed at tears in the corners of her eyes. “Well, how did he look?”
“Like orange is his color. And he asked me to call him, so, you know, if I find myself wanting for male companionship, I’ve apparently got options.”
Mags dabbed her eyes again and hopped off my desk. “I love your life.” Funny, I thought the same thing today. But I was being sarcastic.
* * *
That night, I’d just put some pasta on the stove and poured myself a glass of wine when Logek called.
“Hey,” I said, wandering into my living room.
“How’s things?” she asked.
“Getting stranger all the time. You?”
“About the same.”
“Seen Derek this week?”
“Maybe.”
“Hm.”
“Seen Adam?”
“Perhaps. I texted him Monday, but it was for a benevolent purpose.”
“Which was?”
“His mom agreed to go out with Tony.”
“Oh crap. How did they meet?”
“She showed up at the office with new wineglasses for me.”
“God, she’s sweet. Cute?”
“Adorable. Worth about ten times my giraffe ones. You need to see them.”
“And naturally Tony saw her and swooped in.”