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“I’ll do anything to be with you. And there’s Geneva. Six billion dollars.”
“I thought it was four.” I paused to think. “I don’t give a fuck about the money.”
“You wouldn’t be a free man without it.” Britney tapped her long, pointy nails on the table.
My heart had become a lump of lead. I needed my mother. She would know what to do.
“I have to make my statement soon,” she said. “I’ve set up an appointment with the attorney.”
“I get it.” I took a deep breath. “Give me until the morning.
After leaving Britney, I headed straight to my mother’s studio.
When I arrived, I found her sweeping the studio. “Don’t you have a cleaner for that?” I asked.
“She’s sick.” She dropped the broom and hugged me.
My mother hadn’t heard about my arrest, which unsurprisingly was all over the media. The shock on her face filled me with self-loathing. Although I shouldn’t have blamed myself, I did.
Having listened to my dilemma, she said, “She’s a puta. A scheming witch.”
“Who? Britney or Tammy?”
“Both. Why don’t you wait and see if they can find something on Tamara? She’s been married three times. I bet there’s something there. She’s only twenty-eight.”
I nodded. “The trouble is that I’ve got to give Britney an answer tomorrow.”
“Then agree. Explain it to Miranda. She’ll understand. And when all this is settled, divorce the bitch.”
I gritted my teeth. The last thing I wanted was the stain of divorce.
After I left my mother’s studio, I headed to the Artefactory, which was only a few blocks up. Even if I had to knock down the door, I was determined to see Miranda.
I walked down the alleyway, which I barely recognized. The once-lifeless strip had become a cultural statement, with murals fighting for space.
I pushed open the door and walked straight into the gallery, where an exhibition of abstracts graced the walls.
Clint sashayed over. “Hey.” He gave me a big, welcoming hug, which helped ease my nerves.
I wasn’t sure if Miranda was close enough with her colleagues to reveal our issues, and from the way he looked at me, I sensed he didn’t know about my legal predicament. Either that, or he was just great at hiding it.
“It’s looking great in here,” I said, noticing the funky furniture that he was working on. “They’re great pieces.”
“I’ve found my niche at last.” He smiled. “Sculpture is so difficult to sell. Functional pieces are far more accessible.”
“They’re wonderful.” I examined a chest of drawers with faces painted on it. But then another one caught my eye. It had the curve of a female’s torso and hips. I ran my fingers over it. “I want this. Can I buy it?”
His face lit up. “Of course. It’s yours.”
“Consider it sold.”
“You don’t want to know the price?” he asked.
“I’m sure it’s worth it.”
He looked over my shoulder at Ethan, who’d just walked out of Miranda’s office.
I clenched my fists. He was a talented, handsome dude who wasn’t about to be falsely imprisoned for allegedly assaulting some bimbo parading as a stepmother.
Ethan wore a faint crooked smile, which quickly faded.
I nodded at him. “Hey.”
“She’s in there,” he said coldly and stalked off.
Though I fantasized about punching his perfect nose, I couldn’t blame his cool reception. Had I been him, I would have reacted the same way.
When I entered her office, Miranda was sitting on top of her desk with her phone to her ear, staring out the window.
She turned, and her face changed instantly, as though she’d seen a ghost or something just as disturbing.
