Do I sound as naive as a Disney princess to think that?
I probably do in light of the fact that Tony thinks he owns the house I live in. And I worry he thinks he owns a chunk of me too, thinking he can dictate my sex life.
But what’s really killing me is when Eva’s talking about screwing Sherman financially. She used that expression, yes. No wonder men feel so insecure about finances with women. They have to speculate in the back of their minds if the woman they’ve fallen in love with will one day say to her best friend in a burger joint that she’s willing to do whatever it takes to make the man suffer.
Or am I not understanding the finances of divorce? I mean, I did get a house out of my deal. Kind of. Well, a house with strings attached that I’m going to have to figure out how to cut. Maybe women screw men in their alimony suits because it’s a way to feel equal. To have power.
I can’t help but wonder if the games Joe and I play will make it so I’m never hungry to hurt him as he’s hurt me. If he ever hurts me. Oh god, is hurting each other inevitable?
Yes, if Joe finds out about Shane.
I swallowed and tried to think of something humorous to talk to Eva about. But the rest of the lunch was sour and bitter.
The kids had a playdate with a set of twins, a boy and a girl, who are right between Jamie and Liv’s ages. Oddly enough, the twins idolize loud Liv, but luckily her big brother’s there to make sure Liv’s minions don’t get into too much trouble while the twins’ mother “watches” them. Debbie seems like a good mom, but I always worry. It’s the mom’s plight to carry anxiety that no one could care for your babies as you do.
So I had some time while I felt hollow and hurt. I wanted a drink so bad, but I went to visit my mother, instead. Not a great idea. Then I thought about just driving to the grocery store, stocking up on boxed wine. But I called Bit. Her work must be wonderfully understanding because she said she’d meet me in ten.
She drives up in a black Mini Cooper. So adorable. Like her.
I get out of my mom-mobile and stand as she parks beside me. I’m at her door before she even opens it, hugging the crap out of her once she’s out of her car. She’s hugging me back with her strong, twiggy arms and I love her so much.
“Thanks for coming.” I’m crying. Again. I can’t seem to turn off the waterworks.
“Sure.” She pats me on the back. “What’s going on?”
“I want a fucking chardonnay so fucking bad I can taste it.”
“I’m glad you called.”
I hold her even tighter, maybe even lift her off the ground.
“Seriously, Mo.” She’s started to use Joe’s nickname for me, even though I’m not sure how she picked it up. “What’s going on?”
I let her go and look at my teeny new friend, my sponsor. “Can we talk by that tree?” I point to a huge old cottonwood that’s protecting many cars from the late-summer heat.
Bit nods and we start walking.
She glances at the construction on the new east wing of the nursing home. “Jesus, that’s going to be huge.”
I nod. “Tony, my ex, is the contractor.”
“Is he here?”
I shake my head. “Nope, he takes every Thursday half off. Goes out golfing or something.”
Bit nods. “Must be nice to be the boss, have all those men work while you’re not.”
“Do you think I’m a spoiled housewife?”
Bit frowns at me as we near the cottonwood. “Where’d that come from? And of course not.”
“I don’t work.”
“Who the fuck cares?”
I sigh. “I guess, I do.”
“Do you want to work? Is this about wanting to work?” She settles under the tree, spinning her long black summer skirt around her. I think Tim Burton would instantly fall in love with Bit. She looks like someone from his imagination, even with her summer dress.
I shake my head as I sit criss-cross applesauce in front of her. “I don’t know where that thought came from. Work, I mean. I—”
“Spill everything. That way I’ll be on the same page.”
I nod. “I kissed Shane.”
Bit’s jaw opens wide. “My Shane? The one man I still am kind of infatuated with?”
I cringe and groan as I theatrically throw my head on her tiny shoulder. “I’m a monster.”
Bit laughs. “Yeah, you’re real horrible. I better call the cops.”
I lean away, looking at her. “I’m with his brother.”
She scrunches her face, looking pretty and cute at the same time. “Yeah, that’s not great.” Then she smiles. “Oh my god, you are living what many of my high school friends only fantasized about. I mean, Joe, god, yes, he’s handsome and funny as fuck and smart too. Don’t let that sizzling hot body fool you. And Shane, dreamy, intense Shane, who also has a smoking body. But he kind of hides it better. You know?”
I nod. “Unfortunately, I do.”
“Whoa!” Bit puts her hands out, palms up. “How far did this kiss go?”
I shake my head. “We just kissed. But once…okay, Liv got him wet because he was giving her bath. And I told him I could dry his shirt and he wouldn’t take it off, so I kind of grabbed it and…he’s as beautiful as Joe.”
Bit nods. “I’d bet. I mean if you’re into hard men and all that.”
I smile. “What’s your type?”
She shakes her head. “Oh, no. We’re talking about you.”
“But I want some personal info about you too.”
Bit rolls her eyes.
“What’s your crush look like?”
Then, my hard little Goth girl melts. She’s smiling like she can’t stop herself. “She’s—she’s so beautiful, Mo. She’s Cheyenne, you know?”
I nod, understanding that means she’s Native American.
“So she’s got this long, almost pitch-black hair. Super straight. And her eyes…” Bit sits up a little straighter. “Actually, her eyes remind me of Shane’s a little. They’re kind of brown but mostly golden. Not yellow. But dark gold, you know?”
“Pretty.”
Bit smiles even wider.
“Does your crush know about your feelings for her?”
Bit frowns. “No. She’s too good for me.”
I make a scoffing noise. “Are you fucking kidding?” With Bit I openly swear. Not just in my head. And I kind of love it.
She rolls her eyes yet again.
“You are gorgeous, my small friend.”
Bit makes a similar scoffing noise that I’d made.
I take her by her shoulders. “I’m not trying to be nice, Bit. You’re beautiful. And so smart. And you care so fucking much it makes my heart squeeze.”
She purses her lips. “We aren’t here because of me. Nice way to divert the conversation, though. Honestly, I didn’t think you were that clever to do that. But you are, so now I’ll be on my toes. You’d better spill all of what’s going on or I’ll start smacking you around.”
“Is that AA policy?”
“Does it seem like our AA meetings have much to do with the national organization?”
I smile.
“Spill, spoiled housewife.”
I exhale loudly and pretend to be affronted. But it’s so nice to smile and laugh and have a little levity to everything else in my life. So I do spill. “Shane and I kissed. I told him that I was seeing Joe. He said he couldn’t compete and it was best to not see each other again. But before we got to the kissing, my ex told me I shouldn’t be fucking around in his house.”
“Oh no, he didn’t!”
“He did.”
She shakes her head. “What did you say?”
“Pathetically nothing.”
She leans forward, narrowing her eyes. “Can I ask you some questions?”
“Okay.” I purse my lips.
She takes a big breath. “Did Tony ever hurt you?”
“Why does everyone keep asking me that? Or thinking it?”
Bit puts her hands on
my knee. “Because, Moira, with me, you’re fun. You’re a smart ass of the highest caliber. You’re real. You’re that way with Joe too, from what I can tell. But every time you bring up Tony—”
“He’s only physically hurt me once. And it was on accident.”
She nods slowly. “Does he physically intimidate you?”
I bite my lip, feeling all the air sucked out of me. “So?”
“How do you usually fight?”
“He—he gets loud. Real loud. Sometimes he stands really close to me, waving his arms around. Sometimes, like when we divorced, he just walks out.”
“Do you feel like you can say what you want to to him?”
I look down. “No.”
“Do you feel like you can say what you want to to Joe?”
I glance up, wondering about the change of subject. But then I think about the question. Even with having a horrible secret, one that could damage and hurt Joe monumentally, I have a feeling that if I ever told him, he wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t scream like Tony does. I wouldn’t feel intimidated.
And I feel I could tell Shane everything too, even if it might hurt him. God, I need to stop thinking about him.
Bit holds one of my hands. “It’s very difficult in cases like yours because there’s no outright, people-know-what-it-is abuse.”
“Abuse?” I find myself making an odd noise, like I’m ridiculing the idea.
She squeezes my hand. “Tony knows exactly how to handle you. He knows how to walk away to make you hang on, probably to him or an idea he’s invested in. He knows how to make you fearful so you let go, probably of something good for you, but not for him. He knows how to manipulate you so he gets what he wants, while you get what?”
“I’m a stay-at-home mom. And I love being a stay-at-home mom. Tony gives me that.”
Bit points to the construction crew and their bulldozers and other building supplies. “Tony’s a rich man, yes. But he’s not the one who says if you can be a stay-at-home mom. That was decided in your divorce. By an arbiter of some kind, right?”
I point with my head at the construction. “Tony does that for free. So he’s not rich.”
Bit blinks. “Did he tell you that?”
I nod.
She doesn’t talk for a long time, looking at me, holding one of my hands. “Um, Moira. It was in the paper how Tony won that bid for Swinging Pines. He’s getting paid. A lot.”
I swallow, feeling humiliated. My cheeks are on fire, while my belly is cold and instantly roiling. Why didn’t I read the paper? Why don’t I stay current with local news? Jesus, I look like an idiot. Again. I don’t know how I keep looking like an idiot regarding Tony and all his schemes. Why do I keep falling for his tricks?
Bit continues. “You did have an arbiter of some kind working for you during your divorce, didn’t you?”
“I couldn’t afford it. So—”
“Oh, hell, no. Uh-huh.” Bit takes my hands and stands, gesturing she wants me to do the same.
“What are we doing?” I ask.
“You’re going to meet my crush.”
“Really?” I can’t help but smile as I straighten.
Bit, though, frowns at me. “Her name is Lona Whitetail. Esquire. She’s an attorney. We’re going to talk to her now.”
21
“Family law is…well, there’s not a lot of black and white,” Ms. Whitetail says to me, after Bit filled her in on my divorce, my house arrangements, and the visitation.
I’ve never asked what Bit did for a living, and I don’t know why I’m a little surprised she works for a LGBT advocacy organization here in town. Ms. Whitetail’s main job is to help gay parents keep their rights through divorce proceedings.
“And,” Ms. Whitetail continues, “you’re already divorced.”
“So their settlement is final?” Bit’s voice is high, angry. “Even if it wasn’t at all brokered by any kind of arbiter on Moira’s side?”
Ms. Whitetail shakes her head. “No, a settlement can always be renegotiated. It’s just finding evidence to make a judge think it should be reopened that can be tricky.”
“Like the fact that her ex had a lawyer, while she didn’t?”
I’ve never had a champion before, and to have Bit at my side, asking the questions for me, makes me feel so much stronger than I did just ten minutes ago.
“But he told me he fired his lawyer,” I say.
Ms. Whitetail bites her lip and furrows her dark brows. “I’m not convinced he did. Even without looking at your settlement, it seems that the arrangement is skewed toward your ex-husband rather than you.”
“Really? You think so?”
Ms. Whitetail nods then leans forward against her big and tidy desk, her red lacquered nails spreading wide. “Look, I want to take on your case.”
I shake my head. “But I’m not—”
“She knows you’re not gay,” Bit says quickly.
I smile. “I was going to say I’m not sure how to pay you.”
Ms. Whitetail shrugs one of her delicate shoulders. “You’re Bit’s friend. And I want to help.”
I’m going to cry. Again. When Tony and I were divorcing, I got it in my head that the world had it out for me. Like it’s some bully, randomly drawing me from a crowd to pick on. And I haven’t done much to eradicate that belief. This, though—right here in Ms. Whitetail’s office with Bit next to me, and, to be honest, Joe and Shane had been wearing me down for more than a month—is transforming my thoughts.
“Th-thank you,” I choke.
Ms. Whitetail smiles. “Sure. But don’t think this is some altruistic thing on my part. I’m intrigued. What I want to do is check out your husband’s finances. Since you aren’t married any longer, this will be a problem. I need to get a judge to let me look at his finances without him knowing.”
“Why without him knowing?”
“Because,” Ms. Whitetail leans forward, “he might hide his assets if he catches on. I don’t know if you know this or not, Moira, but your ex-husband is wealthy.”
I can only look at my hands as I hold them on my lap, feeling ashamed that I didn’t know more, do more, didn’t educate myself to what I was dealing with. My cheeks—hell, my whole face—is burning from this shame.
Ms. Whitetail points to a building outside her office window. “See that bank there? Your husband built it. His construction crew did, I should say. And my brother helped negotiate the contract. He’s a contractual lawyer. Anyway, I know, and the rest of the town should know because it’s public knowledge, that that building put thirty-two million dollars into your ex-husband’s pocket. Most contractors make anywhere between two to thirty percent of the overall bid. Usually around nine percent if he’s a fair contractor. His business is booming, so I’d guess he’s fair. Which means, based on that estimation, your ex-husband took home close to three million dollars from that one job. Did you have any idea?”
I let the information settle in, feeling so stupid I want to cry. Like the other women Tony slept with, people know more about my ex-husband than I do. They know how he’s screwing me over. I can’t help but cover my face with my hands.
Bit puts an arm around me.
“I’m sorry, Moira,” Miss Whitetail says.
“No.” I keep covering my face, mortification taking over. “No, Ms. Whitetail, please, don’t feel sorry. I need to know the truth.”
“Call me Lona, please.”
With shaking hands, I place them over my heart. “I have child support checks. It’s not much, but I thought it was all Tony could afford. And I tried to never complain. I know the mortgage is paid off, but I never thought…From the child support, I’ve been saving since my son was born. Saving for my kids’ college fund. It’s not much, but I thought that was all Tony could afford. Fuck, I’m not making sense.”
Lona stands and comes around her desk, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You make sense. You’re telling me that you pinched pennies to make sure your children had a bright fu
ture. And it must be startling to realize that their future could be secured if their father shared a little more, shared what’s fair. This is a lot to take in.” She kneels in her dainty lavender lawyer pantsuit, looking me in eye. “I want to take this case because, Moira, I want you to see the truth too. But the main reason why I want to take this case is because you have a right to have sex with whomever you want, whenever you want, and especially in the privacy of your home. And I want to fight so you do that.”
I snort a laugh and hug my new attorney.
* * *
I’m not sure what I’m doing. I’m not thinking clearly and I should probably turn back. I should buy a box of wine and guzzle it in my car. Drink it all before my kids can see me like this. I’m a fucking mess.
I’ve been crying all day. My eyes are rimmed red. They’re a little puffy too. My hair—I can’t remember if I brushed it today. I’m wearing cutoff jeans and a tank covered by an old oxford shirt that might have been Tony’s. My lawyer saw me like this and took me seriously. Or maybe I look pathetic and she wanted to help because of that.
Or, more than likely, she wanted to help me because she has a secret crush on Bit. Seeing them looking at each other, the flare of fire in their eyes, the blushes, the way they wouldn’t say what they wanted to…it reminded me too much of Shane.
I really don’t want any more reminders of him. I’m in a relationship with Joe. Oh, and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him—Joe, not Shane. Jesus, could I be in love with Shane?
I swallow and somehow find my way. The scant directions I know of this neighborhood are not really helping since the streets are named after different types of cattle. But there’s his home on Angus Street. The houses here are mammoth. Giants, compared to the split levels I know in my neighborhood. The lawns are manicured by young men in uniforms. They sweep away any last shred of the green blades of grass from the sidewalks. No one is out playing. There isn’t even a stray dog wondering around. There’s tiny dogs, barking madly from the inside of the houses.
I park, making sure I have the right address. But I know I’m right. Tony’s truck is parked in the driveway. As is a small VW bug—bright yellow with plastic flowers blocking the view of the back windshield. It’s cute, and I’m sure the girl who owns it is too, but it’s also dangerous. And I wonder when I became the old woman who purses her lips at her ex-husband’s lover’s car.
Awake: Book 3 of the Wild Love Series Page 21