Once it was signed, Jason turned to Shay and said, "I'll get you for this, bitch."
Then Wilcox changed from lawyer to man who had grown up on the wrong side of everything. "No you won't. If anything happens to her, if any word gets out on the street, anything happens to the kid, this packet goes right to the police. You'll be arraigned faster than you can spell 'bitch,' if you can even spell it."
"I signed your god-damned paper!" Jason bellowed the words, his face red, spit flying.
Wilcox didn't flinch. He apparently wasn't afraid of assholes. Shay was only afraid for whoever Jason took his anger out on later. She'd seen that rage before, and someone always paid for it.
"Yes, you signed the paper. And you and your lawyer didn't even ask for a deal where I destroyed the evidence or anything like that. So I hold both now."
This time, it was Miller who looked chagrinned at the error.
Shay didn't fault him the shoddy work. Jason had blindsided him, too, by not telling him the whole story. He'd let Miller be surprised by all the evidence against him.
Wilcox leaned into Jason's face. "Remember that. Now get the fuck out of my office."
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi . . . Shay started counting in her head, looking straight in front of her while she waited for the door to close behind the two men. Even when it clicked shut, she still didn't find her space and it took another minute before she was able to look up at Wilcox, who was gathering the mess of papers Miller and Jason had left behind.
"Thank you." The words came out as more of a whisper than anything.
"You are very welcome." He offered a small smile. "One down, one to go."
Chapter 25
It took two more months for Shay to fight Brian. Wilcox had warned her it would be a battle, and it was.
Jason—probably the worse of the two fathers—had actually been the easy case. A lot of prep on Wilcox's part, but then one big strike and he was gone.
Jason hated her. Hated her. Shay knew it. She didn't like the idea that someone out there had that kind of rage toward her, but she'd chosen him. She made that bed; at least she didn't have to lie in it anymore. She only had to deal with the fact that it existed.
Three weeks later, Wilcox had called her. "Do you want the good news?"
Shay perked up, "Brian is consenting to sign the paperwork?"
For a moment, she'd thought it was all over. But that wasn't it.
"No, this is about Masters."
Jason.
Wilcox continued. "Police picked him up for brawling the night of our meeting where he signed over rights."
"Oh?" That was news, though it wasn't surprising to her at all. "We didn't know about that arrest before now?" She knew Wilcox was following the man. He told her he did monthly checks on a handful of clients' exes. The checks would extend to annually after a few years if the ex stayed out of trouble.
Wilcox told her the story. "Apparently they gave him a warning and let him go. He spent the night in the drunk tank but that was it. That's happened again since then, but if they just give a warning, we won't hear about it unless I set my guy to specifically dig into it. What happened is that this time Masters broke someone's jaw, and got arrested. So we know about it. Do you want to release his papers to the arresting officer?"
Shay took a deep breath. "Can I think about it?"
It had been a week and she finally had an idea. She tried to call in while the boys were at school. But as the weather loomed closer to the holidays, she started worrying about them being at home more. Snow days, bad weather, colds, things like that. Aaron was at home with her that day and she'd had to wait until he was asleep to contact Wilcox about the problem.
Taking a deep breath, and hoping there was more information about Brian that would end that case earlier rather than later, she dialed the number. After being on hold for several minutes she got through to the man.
"What's happening to Jason because of the current charges against him?" She already decided that she would use this information to make her decision.
"He'll being going away for five to ten. He'll probably be out early though if he can swing good behavior."
Shay barked out a laugh. That was the most absurd thing she'd heard in a long time. "I don't think Jason could even recognize good behavior let alone exhibit it." She took in a breath. "The deal was that we'd release our information—your information—if he came after me or Owen. I'd like to keep that in our back pocket."
There was a silence as he seemed to think it over. "That's fair. Hold your cards. I don't think you have to worry about him anyway for at least the next handful of years."
She asked about Brian and found out that nothing had changed. He wasn't willing to negotiate. He was holding out for a court case. But Wilcox had checked out Brian's lawyer and told her they didn't stand a chance. "He just doesn't have the resources we do. And to be honest, you have the uterus."
That had jolted Shay. "Is that really still a factor?"
"In the South, outside of the big cities, yes. We haven't quite made it to the modern age of men as actual parents rather than 'father' being an honorary term for 'sperm donor.' I'm always happy when the parent I'm defending is a female. Makes it easier, that's for sure." He mentioned a few more things which Shay tucked into her memory before she thanked him and hung up.
Another brick rolled off the weight she'd been hauling for years. It wasn't gone yet, not by any stretch. In some ways it was worse. There was always the mild possibility that Brian would present a really great case, and the judge would give him more rights as a parent. But as Parker Wilcox, amazing lawyer and savior, had told her, it was a really low possibility, and you had to risk it to get your kids out from under.
He'd also assured her that the idea was absurd enough that if that happened, they'd file an appeal before they even left the courtroom. So there was a backup plan in case it all went to hell.
Shay needed those backup plans. She'd learned to have one when she lived with Jason. And when Brian hadn't turned out to be the one who took care of her, she'd learned to take care of herself and to be ready for any eventuality.
Still, the specter of Jason was gone. Owen was at home every weekend now. He seemed happier with that. Shay had been so pleased at the outcome, at not having to spend her whole savings to make it happen, she'd taken him out after school the day before. It had been one of Aaron's days to stay at Head Start until five. Apparently it was also a good day to catch something contagious from one of the other kids. But she hadn't known that.
So she picked up Owen at the bus and took him to the local used book and electronics store and bought him a used e-reader. He didn't have to worry about his dad breaking it anymore. Neither did she.
"Mom!" He'd glowed and clutched it to his chest. "I can have it! I can have books on it?"
She'd smiled. Inside, she acknowledged that it was a crap thing he hadn't had one before now. The very idea that his father might have broken it was unreal. She was glad Owen didn't have any of that man's DNA. Unfortunately, he had the DNA of one of Jason's friends, so that didn't make it any better. But Owen was wonderful. "You deserve it, sweetie. You're such a good reader."
They'd gone home without picking up Aaron yet and sat on the couch side by side while she set up an account with an online bookstore. He could look up new books but couldn't buy them without her passcode. He didn't care.
Once they had three books lined up for him, she told him, "We want to turn it to a black background and white letters. Help me figure out how to do that . . ."
He had no fear of breaking it like she did. So he pressed buttons and opened menus and changed options until he found the right one. "Mom, that looks weird."
"It's better for your eyes." She looked at it and handed it back to him. "When you are almost finished with these books, let me know and we can borrow a new one from the library."
He frowned at her. "Maybe I can do chores to buy e-books?"
"Maybe." She looked a
t him a moment before she realized what his concern was. "Oh. You can get e-books at the library, too."
"You can?" His awe lit her up inside, too, and she ruffled his hair as he opened the first book and ran his finger over the color version of the cover that popped up on the screen.
She let him read that way for a little while, doing dishes in the other room and peeking in to watch him flip the pages back and forth with a button, wondering at the e-reader as much as reading the book. Surely some of his friends at school had one? He seemed so enamored with it. She'd thought it was simply a good idea and such a neat gadget for a kid who reads all the time, but it was as though she'd given a regular kid a flat screen TV and a gaming system.
Maybe none of the kids at his school had them? None of the other first graders were avid readers like him probably. But they had tablets, right?
After she finished the dishes, she packed him in the car and they headed out to pick up Aaron, Owen with e-reader in hand. He showed it to Aaron's pre-school teacher when she asked him about it, and the woman grinned up at Shay.
"Mommy!" Aaron tugged at her pants as Shay watched her older son interact. "I want one."
She picked him up, savoring the heaviness of him. It wouldn't be much longer that she'd still be able to carry him around like this. She touched the tip of his nose. "You have to learn to read. But if you become a really good reader—" she stopped herself before saying 'like your brother' "—then I'll get you one, too. How does that sound?"
He nodded then ran to grab a book off the shelf. Shay hated having to shut him down but promised him reading time after dinner. He made her teach him letters that night and impressed her by learning seven easily. She'd wait to see if the lesson held the next morning. But then he'd woken up sick, and she'd called the lawyer, and she rescheduled with the psychologist.
At Wilcox's request, she was getting Aaron interviewed by two different psychologists. She was getting the interview transcribed by a court reporter. No small expense, but nothing like what she'd planned to pay out.
Wilcox had also told her that the court would most likely order another interview and report from a therapist they appointed. But by having these done independently, they would have counter records should the court-ordered psychologist come up with anything different. And Aaron would be comfortable talking to the person. The lawyer had warned her that it was possible that no one would care at all what Aaron had to say, and they may just be presenting the ones they'd done on their own as additional evidence.
One was already done.
The information had gone to Wilcox, and Shay hadn't seen it. He didn't want her to. Wanted her to be able to say to the judge that she had no idea what her son had said to the therapist, good or bad. So she didn't look.
When she finally got the boys into bed—Aaron holding a book to his chest, Owen asleep curled up with his new e-reader—Shay looked around the house and out the window at the neighborhood in the last of the light. There was a glass bottle in the gutter; she could see the glint of streetlight on the round surface. Looked like a beer bottle.
The porches down the street sagged like hers did. One home had fresh paint, but the others only needed it and didn't receive any. Some of the grass was fresh cut, but others had let it grow out as it was wont to do even as they headed into the cold season. It didn't get dry enough to stop the grass until late November. One house, not the one with the fresh paint, had a small garden. Several had a bicycle out front; hers had a big wheel and a small bike.
When she thought beyond the neighborhood, the local elementary was the worst one in the city. The gate behind the school was falling down. The parking lot went right up to the front door, no yard there, cars and buses everywhere.
Once Brian was out of the picture she could move without his permission. She could take the boys somewhere better. Better schools, better neighbors, somewhere to ride their bikes without worry.
Brian wasn't gone yet and she didn't want to get her hopes up. But Shay began to dream. She made a few plans that weren't plans; she didn't want to be too disappointed if it didn't work out.
Then, several weeks later, she woke up bright and early and put her good suit back on. She dropped the boys at school and Head Start and she tucked her fears into her purse with the lipstick she'd been nervously applying.
Wilcox met her in the parking lot. "Ready?" He asked. When she nodded, he only smiled. "Let's go set your little one free."
The smile was infectious. The previous victory over Jason bolstered her confidence, and she was able to "approach the bench" even though the judge had come down to the front table, keeping the hearing formal, but not ridiculous with only five of them in the room. She stated her name and occupation, address and all manner of stupid facts calmly for all of them. She was grateful the hearing was closed.
Brian basked in the silly comments the judge made about his name being the same as a Beach Boy and asking if he was into music. He leaned back in his seat as calm and relaxed as he could be, the judge nodding politely at him as he answered questions. When the judge asked, Brian openly admitted to giving Aaron Benadryl, said he didn't realize it was wrong. He admitted to smoking pot. He admitted to doing it with his son in the house.
With each answer, Shay saw tiny twitches in the judge's expression. Each twitch was a candle lighting her hope. Then at last, the judge looked directly at Brian to ask another question. When his lawyer tried to stop the judge, the judge overruled. It wasn't a formal courtroom after all, he could ask what he needed to ascertain the well-being of the child in question.
Then the older man looked directly at Brian Wilson and asked, "Mr. Wilson, are you stoned right now?"
Chapter 26
The tour bus had rolled into town around ten a.m.—late for a Wilder tour to get home. Three or four in the morning was more the norm. This time, Craig had come fully awake on his own with the wheels still rolling underneath him.
Usually JD was the one who went room to room and woke everyone up. Craig always understood that was because JD had something to come home to. Alex did, too, but he seemed less anxious to get back to his wife and kids than JD did. JD seemed to truly miss what was quickly becoming an entire herd of kids.
Craig had only compared the two married men to each other. Certainly he and TJ didn't have any such compunctions. They were the rolling stones of the group, happy to land wherever, whenever, as long as there was beer and company.
This time, however, Craig found himself a bit irked by the late arrival. He knew the puppy sitter would have taken them out this morning before she left, but they'd been in their crate since she'd taken off for work at seven. She usually came back during her lunch time and Daniel came after school and played with them, so they were being cared for just fine. But Craig found that he missed them.
He missed getting his face licked. He missed having them curl up on his lap when he watched TV. He missed having something small to scamper after him and someone to work with and be proud of. He was beginning to see why some people loved their dogs—and maybe even their kids—so much.
When the wheels finally ground to a stop, the guys all nearly fell out the door, laden with overnight bags, instruments and more. Each man lugged his stuff to his parked car in a well-rehearsed routine that was practically a ballet by this time.
JD was not surprisingly the first one to holler out "Great trip! Bye y'all" as he pulled his car door shut and rolled out of the lot. But this time it was Craig who hustled and hollered out second. He was hot on JD's heels even as TJ shot him a look of confusion. His friend had probably been about two seconds from asking him to hit a bar for a little day drinking and maybe a pizza. Craig was happy to have avoided saying no.
He pulled into his driveway imagining he could hear Scarlett and Gunnar whining. Surely they could recognize the sound of his engine. Hauling his bags in the back door, he found he could actually hear them rattling the dog crate. He wished they could run free, but the vet assured him they were not old
enough to be on their own. Given the number of times he'd had to pull them back from chewing the couch, or worse the TV and computer plugs, he had to agree.
"Hi, guys!" he hollered out as he made it in the door, barely dumping his stuff. The only thing he paid attention to was the acoustic guitar he traveled with this time. His stage bass stayed with the set-up, but this one was a replica of a model he'd had on the street in LA. The one he'd sold. Both guitars had been taken everywhere, used for his own comfort, for writing songs, and whatever musical opportunities came along.
After setting the newer version into the waiting cradle in the living room, he headed down the hall into his room where the puppies had spent the last seven nights without him.
"Oh, God. You're huge!" He was speaking even as his fingers struggled to open the crate door. It wasn't hard to open normally, only that changed with two puppies trying to break out by pushing against the door. They were now about twice the size they'd been when he first got them.
"Here you go." He murmured as they finally tumbled out and over each other in an attempt to reach him. For a moment, he sat there on the floor basking in the overwhelming joy they had just at seeing him. He figured that went both ways and acknowledged that he'd thought a dog would be a good friend. A housemate maybe. A creature to be there when no one could come watch a football game. But these guys were so much more.
They were a massive responsibility. If he'd been asked to take it on, he would have said no. But he now happily headed down the hallway, watching them romp along behind him, still not in graceful control of their limbs. Their ears flopped with their exuberance, and they skidded and slid into each other as they attempted a neat stop at his feet. He tried not to laugh as he held the leashes in one hand and gave a command for 'sit.' They looked at him with their feet still dancing.
Craig waited. It took three tries and him pushing their butts down and showing them 'sit' again, before they were ready to go. The sitter hadn't trained them much, he could tell. Maybe he needed a pro, not just one of Kelsey's sitters for her kids.
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