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And the payoff – it seemed like a hell of a lot more than the risk I took. If I were able to do just a couple of jobs a week, we'd be sitting pretty. Or, at least, a lot prettier than we had been since our folks died. I wouldn't have to stress so hard about the bills or putting food on the table. And that's just if I did a couple of runs a week.
This was all temporary. It was just something to get us by until something better – and legal – came along. This wasn't going to be my life. It would allow me to provide for my family, but it wasn't going to be my life. I would get out the instant I could.
“Yeah,” I said. “Put me at the top of the list.”
Tim laughed and clapped me on the shoulder again. “Good man,” he said. “Good man.”
Was I though? Was I really? I was doing something wrong. Illegal.
But, at least it would allow me to take care of my family.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PIPER
The blonde woman on the other side of the desk was beautiful when she smiled, but a little hardened and angry when she didn't. She stared at me with frown lines on her face and her brow furrowed. I cleared my throat and stared at my hands, folded in my lap, trying to fight off the feeling of dread threatening to consume me.
The woman was Sheila Appleton, Attorney at Law; one of the better family lawyers in Walter. Okay, technically, she was the only family lawyer in Walter, but she had a decent enough reputation. She was also fairly affordable compared to going out of town and finding a big-wig, high dollar attorney like Trent had done.
“What's the problem?” I asked.
My nerves of steel had disintegrated under the
withering power of just that one look from her. It damn near stopped my heart from beating in my chest. All this time, I thought everything was going to be okay. I'd felt good about our case. I felt like there was no way I could honestly lose custody of my little girl, but Sheila's eyes told me otherwise.
“Your ex has tested clean on every single drug tests he's been given,” Sheila said, handing me a small folder, “And he's actually gotten a job with proof of legit income. Turns out, he's actually making a lot of money, Piper.”
“Bullshit,” I stammered, opening the folder and flipping through the documents. “It's fake. It has to be. I know Trent.”
Tears welled in my eyes.
“Maybe, but from where I'm sitting, it looks legit,” Sheila said. “And even if it's fake, it looks good enough that it can probably fool the courts.”
“No,” I said. “I just spoke to him the other night. He was high as a kite.”
“It gets worse,” Sheila said.
“Worse? How?” I wish I hadn't asked. “It doesn't seem possible at this point.”
“He's claiming you're an unfit mother and he's seeking full custody,” she said. “He wants to cut you out of Olivia's life as much as possible.”
“That son of a bitch. He has no basis to claim that I'm unfit,” I said. “I've never done anything that would justify that.”
Sheila still wasn't smiling. She nodded toward the folder, so I flipped through the pages. Gasping, I stared at the photo of me with wide, scared eyes. I looked up at Sheila, who looked like a disappointed mother, and then back down at the file in my hands.
“What is – ”
I pulled it from the folder. It was a picture of me alright, a picture of me sitting around with some of his friends. I remembered that night very well. I'd put on a happy face because I knew I was leaving Trent's ass for good. I was smiling because I knew I wouldn't have to put up with anymore of his parties – or him – anymore.
Except, the photo he'd included was of me with several men sitting at a table, passing a bong around. I didn't partake, I never did. I was simply in the photo. There were beer bottles and empty shot glasses littering the table in front of us. I knew, for a fact, that at that time, Olivia was asleep in her crib in the back of the house. Away from the mayhem, and soon enough, even further away. “He fails to mention that these are his friends at his party – not mine – doesn't he?” I hiss. And he also fails to mention that I never smoked pot. Especially, with his lowlife friends.”
“Yep. He claims he wasn't there that night. He says that he was working and says he can prove it,” he said. “He also claims you were left at home alone with the baby and chose to party instead.”
“Bullshit again,” I said, throwing the photo on her desk. “I was passing through on my way to Olivia's room. I usually locked myself in with my baby girl when things got wild, but I needed to make her a bottle first. Trent was the one who took the photo.”
“He has a written statement from his boss that he was at work that night.”
“He didn't even have a job,” I spat.
