Trick

by Laramie Briscoe

  Her feet climb up my legs as she throws herself into the back and forth motion of our bodies. I reluctantly let go of her hand and wrap her leg around me gripping her ass so I can go deeper. I’m grinding against her pubic bone, barely holding it together when I feel her nails on my back. The sex is slow, but intense, and maybe we both feel the finality of it all. The black cloud hanging over us, until we can figure out what the hell Riley’s dad wants. We’re both scared, afraid that if we let go, this whole thing will be over.

  “Take me there, Trick,” she moans, throwing her head back against the pillow. “Make me feel because I haven’t felt since I got those papers. Make me feel something other than numb.”

  Her voice guts me, because I can hear just how desperate she is to feel something. I hate that this man has turned us into this; he’s made her into a person who’s scared, he’s made me into a person who’s scared. I want to feel as badly as she does. Grasping her ass, I pull her deeper into me, jack-knifing my hips into her, pulling out before thrusting back in. On the third pull out, I feel it, and I cram my thumb against her clit, taking her with me.

  "I love you," she breathes against my chest.

  “I love you too,” I return the sentiment, because I do, everything about this woman I love, and it’s going to kill me if she doesn’t get to keep what’s rightfully hers.

  I feel the wetness of tears, stroking her hair as I let her get it out. Tears spring to my eyes too, because I can’t imagine my life without these two women in it. They took a man who never thought about anything more than the next day, and made him a man who believed in a family, in a future.

  I grasp her hand in mine, entwining our fingers together. “Nobody’s going to break this,” I tell her. “What’s strong here, nobody’s going to break. The fucker might try, but we’re gonna stand strong and together, and he’s not going to get what he wants.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she grips my fingers in between hers.

  “I know I’m right.” Because nothing that feels this shitty can be a reality. I have to believe that.

  Two days later, I’m nervous as fuck as we take Riley to school. She hasn’t questioned why I’m riding to school with them or why her mom and I are so subdued. It hasn’t even phased her that we’re both dressed up a lot more than we are when we go to work. We got the mediation appointment quicker than I thought we would, and with the holidays quickly approaching, Hadley had wanted to get this over with. I completely understand, but it still makes me more nervous than I’ve ever been in my life.

  “Are you and Trick going to pick me up together?” Riley asks as she scampers out of her booster seat in the back of my truck.

  “We will,” Hadley assures her. “Have a good day, I love you,” she hugs Riley tightly and I do the same as we stand next to the truck.

  “I love you too,” she kisses her mom on the cheek before she grabs my hand, tugging on it. “Love you, Trick.”

  I pull her up into my arms, relishing the feel of her small body against mine. I’m scared to death this is going to be taken from me, stripped away, and I’m going to be stuck in that same lonely cycle I was in before. “Love you, Sprite. Have a good day.”

  She leans in, kissing me on the cheek too, before she scampers down and runs into the school.

  “She has no idea,” Hadley crosses her arms in front of her, running her hands up and down to warm herself up.

  “She doesn’t, and that says a lot about you as a mother. This will work out, Hadley.”

  “I hope so.”

  We get back in the truck, and it takes everything I have not to go into that school, grab the little girl, and tell her mom we’ll make a break for the border. There, no one can touch us, and we can spend our days on the beach, drinking Coronas and learning to surf. It’s not realistic though, and I’m not someone who’s ever run away from a difficult situation. Starting the truck, I pull out of the school, making my way to the courthouse where our lives will change. The question is, in what way?

  “I kind of wanted to tell her,” Hadley says from where she sits, looking out the window. “Just so she knows in case things go south, ya know? I don’t want her to be surprised and blindsided the way I was, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I feel like if I speak the words, I give them power.”

  The drive hasn’t taken long, much shorter than I ever imagined it would. When your life hangs in the balance, life speeds up, and you’re just trying not to get run over.

  “We’ll be fine,” I tell her, hoping like hell I’m not lying. “Before we go in there, I have something I want to give you.”

  Reaching behind my seat, I grab the flowers I ordered off the website she likes so much.

  “Oh Trick, they’re beautiful.” She turns the red and black love bouquet in her hands, seeming to not believe I actually got them for her.

  “And like you said, they never die. So I want you to focus on these out here in the truck when we’re in there. They are our hope.”

  “Because they don’t wither away?”

  I reach over, cupping her chin in my hand. “Right, they stay strong no matter what’s thrown at them, just like you.”

  “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this,” she whispers.

  I cup my hand around her neck, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “You are because you have to be. I’ve never known you to run away or back down from anything. You became a single mother when it wasn’t the easiest thing for you to do. You signed your daughter up for the Companion Program and admitted you couldn’t give her everything she needed. You gave an ex-con covered in tattoos a shot when the rest of the world would have told me to go on my merry way. Don’t underestimate how strong you are, Hadley. You’re the strongest woman I know,” I make her focus on me. “Now let’s go in here and shut this asshole down.”

  She gives me a grin, and it’s one that shows her fire. It’s what’s been missing since we got the paperwork. This is the woman I fell in love with. “Let’s do it.”

  I know now Phillip Westin won’t know what the hell hit him.

  35

  Hadley

  We’ve been sitting in this mediation room for almost an hour, waiting for Phillip and his attorney to appear. The magistrate checks his watch. “We’ll give them a few more minutes.”

  I don’t want to give them a few more minutes. They knew as well as we did, the time they were supposed to be here. This is completely typical of him. Expecting everyone to wait while he takes his time, doing whatever it is he feels is more important than what’s right in front of him. I know without out a doubt, this is how he’ll treat Riley if he gets custody of her. I hope it makes an impression on everyone sitting in the room.

  Just as we’re about to get up to leave, the door opens and in walks my ex-husband. He’s aged years since the last time I saw him, he looks weak and maybe a little frail. For a few seconds I wonder if he’s sick, and the reason he wants to have contact with Riley now is because he’s dying. Then I realize men like him don’t die slowly. They go out in a blaze of glory, shocking the world.

  “Mr. Westin, Mr. Thomas,” the magistrate nods at the attorney. “Nice of you two to show up. Be aware I was about to throw out the case, and you’ve wasted an hour of the courts time here today, so let’s get this show on the road.”

  “Our apologies,” Mr. Thomas says, but they don’t offer an explanation as to where they’ve been.

  I barely listen as the magistrate begins speaking, laying out in terms we can all understand what Phillip wants – joint custody with him being her primary caregiver. It pisses me off as they begin listing all the thing he can do monetarily for her. The best school, reading between the lines it means he’s going to send her away, vacations in Europe, and a stable household. They make it sound as if I can’t keep my lights turned on, when it’s very far from the truth. They mention Trick’s record, and Sally pushes forward a folder of all the character witnesses that have vouched for Trick.

  We hold hands under
the table, and I appreciate the way he’s rubbing his thumb against my palm. It soothes me, gives me the strength I need to believe this could work out for us.

  When it’s our turn, Sally glances over at me, a smile on her face. She’s a pitbull, ferocious in the way she approaches things, and I can’t wait to see how she’s going to approach this. I trust her with everything, I know she’s going to fight hard for us.

  “I understand the reason Mr. Westin has decided to ask for joint custody of Riley is because his wife has found out she can’t have children. Is that correct?” She asks, and I want to gasp, the new wife hadn’t even cared about children.

  “That’s correct,” Mr. Thomas answers. “Seeing as how my client has a biological one, they’ve decided they would like to welcome her into their home.”

  Sally opens another folder, outlining what looks to be cell phone records. “In the almost three years since your client and my client have been divorced, Mr. Westin has called a total of three times. Mrs. Westin, how many of those phone calls ended with Mr. Westin seeing his daughter?”

  “None,” I answer, my voice strong. “We set up meetings all three times, but he never showed. Riley was left feeling like she was abandoned because her father didn’t want to see her. After the last phone call, he stopped calling, and I didn’t want to subject her to the embarrassment or tears any longer. He’s made no other attempt until I got served with the papers.

  “My client is a busy man,” Mr. Thomas fiddles with his own papers. “He’s building businesses.”

  “As are both of my clients,” Sally rebuts. “Mr. Tennyson owns a motorcycle repair shop, and Mrs. Westin owns an Etsy store making goods. Both of them can prove a profit, and Mr. Tennyson has ties to community. He owns the building his shop is in, and he’s bid for the building next door. Neither one of them are looking to go anywhere, anytime soon. Yet, they still manage to care for Riley. Mrs. Westin keeps her full-time, and Mr. Tennyson met her through the Companion Program which pairs children lacking male figures in their lives with male companion, like a big brother program,” she taps her pen on the table. “Mrs. Westin had to prove Riley had no male figure to get her in that program – which is odd for a child who has a father.”

  I want to smile, because this is looking worse and worse for Phillip by the minute, but I don’t. The only person who’s really suffered here is Riley, and I want to make sure it never happens again.

  “Let me ask you this, Mr. Westin,” Sally continues. “What is Riley’s favorite color? What lessons does she take? Does she have a pet? What are her favorite shoes?”

  Phillip is starting to panic; I can see it in his face.

  “I don’t know the answer to any of those questions,” he admits, his voice soft in the room.

  From beside me, I hear Trick’s voice. No one has told him he can speak, but that’s never stopped him before. “Her favorite color is pink, she plays piano like nobody’s business, Tux is her cat, and she lives in her Converse. You should be ashamed of yourself for having this kid at your fingertips and not taking the time to get to know what an amazing little girl she is.”

  The magistrate is watching this, his head going back and forth as we volley words between each other. When we all start talking over one another, he pounds his gavel. I’m doing everything I can to keep my emotions together. Hearing Trick say all the things he knows about Riley when her dad can’t answer one question tells me everything I need to know about the man sitting next to me.

  “Mr. Westin,” he shuts up Phillip with a glare. “How much time are willing to give your daughter? How many hours do you think she’ll need of your attention weekly?”

  “A couple,” he shrugs.

  I laugh, I can’t help it, I laugh so hard tears come to my eyes. “You aren’t a father. If you were, you’d know it’s not the type of job where you can put an hourly goal on it. Some days she needs more attention than others. Like when her piano isn’t coming the way she wants it to, when her spelling words are hard for her, when she wakes up in the middle of the night puking. As a parent, you sacrifice everything for your child, and you’re saying you think you can spare a few hours? Phillip,” I shake my head. “What’s this really about? Your new wife can’t have kids, and you want to hurt me by taking away the one thing you’ve never had control over? Let’s be honest with each other. You don’t love her. You didn’t even want her.”

  “But I can have her,” his voice is sinister. This is the man I know.

  “No you can’t,” the magistrate says from where he sits. “What our goal is here today is to do what’s best for Riley. It doesn’t matter who has the most money, or who can provide her with material things. What that means to the court is who can provide for her emotionally and physically. Who can show her love, who can give her the time she needs? I feel as if you’ve proven, Mr. Westin, with your past actions you aren’t in any sort of place in your life to provide a child with what they need from you. Raising a child is much more than a couple of hours here and there, while you throw money at it, hoping that solves the ‘problem’.”

  He stops talking, looking at Trick and I.

  “I have to be completely honest with you two as well. I have concerns about Mr. Tennyson, but he’s taken steps to correct his mistakes. He admits to his faults and doesn’t make excuses. That’s the mark of not only a good human being, but a great man. Mrs. Westin, I believe you’ve done everything in your power to give your daughter the best childhood she can have. I noticed looking over the terms of your divorce, you didn’t even ask for child support. From day one you’ve done this on your own, and by all accounts, Riley has thrived under your care.”

  I feel vindication as I hear the words from a person who doesn’t know me, but can tell the lengths I’ve gone to, to keep Riley happy. He’s a complete stranger to all of us, but given the facts, he can tell I’ve always put her first.

  “Given everything that’s been presented to me today, I have to say, I don’t feel comfortable removing Riley from her mother’s care at all. Mr. Westin hasn’t exhibited any true desire to be a father to his child, or to be in a co-parenting situation. It’s very apparent this was a power play, and the court doesn’t take these issues lightly. Not only have you wasted my time here today, being as late as you were, you undoubtedly scared to death your ex-wife who’s never asked you for anything. If it were up to me, and I were able to change the original terms of the divorce, she would have at least twenty-five percent of your salary before taxes. Think about that long and hard before you ever try to do anything like this again, Mr. Westin.”

  The magistrate glances at me and Trick.

  “You’re doing a great job with what you have. Mr. Tennyson, you keep your nose clean, and you’ll be fine. Mrs. Westin, keep doing what you’re doing. You’re both setting great examples for the community and the child you’re raising together. Riley Westin will remain in the sole custody of her mother.”

  The sound of his gavel is the best sound I’ve ever heard in my life. Glancing over at Phillip, I notice he’s pale, but I know it’s because he lost. He’s not used to losing, and I know he expected me to roll over and play dead. It’s what I did in all the years we were married – until he made me find a backbone. There’s so many things I want to say to him, so much I want to say thank you for, because without him I never would have found my way to Trick. In the end, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. Our eyes meet, and I nod, before my team leaves the mediation room.

  “C’mon,” I tell Trick. “Let’s go pick up Riley from school. I think this calls for a celebration.”

  36

  Trick

  “Mom, are you sure it’s okay for us to break tradition?” Riley asks, her eyes wide as she gazes at the Christmas tree box sitting in my apartment.

  “What’s normal tradition?” I ask, opening the box up with my knife.

  Hadley smiles at her daughter. “Normally we wait until December 10th, we put on A Christmas Story, and we decorate while w
atching the movie play over and over again.”

  “It’s only a few days before the tenth,” I look at my phone. “Today’s the fifth, and if you want to watch the movie, I’m sure it’s on Netflix. Why don’t you go look, Sprite.”

  Riley scampers off to find the remote so she can check on the movie situation.

  “Thank you for this,” Hadley leans in, circling her arms around my neck. Sitting down, it’s easier for her to give me a hug while she stands over me.

  “We’ve had a hell of a day. I can’t think of anything better to top it off than what we’re about to do right now. Besides,” I turn so I can see her. “In all the years I’ve lived here, I’ve never had a Christmas tree.”

  “Never had a Christmas tree?” Her eyes are wide, mouth hanging open. “Trick, what the hell?”

  “The tree only brought home how lonely I was. No one to share anything with, barely any presents to put under the tree. It’s not so fun when you’re a single guy living on your own.”

  Her eyes soften as she looks at me. “I remember my first Christmas with just Riley and me. I felt the same way, and then I overcompensated for it. The next we started our tradition,” she explains, kissing me on the cheek. “But I’ll tell you what I’m most excited about this year.”

  “What’s that?” I ask as I stand up, shaking the tree out of the box.

  “Starting all kinds of brand new traditions with you.”