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Eric studied the pair of three-thousand-dollar sunglasses in his hand. He’d come a long way to nowhere.
Jack gripped his shoulder and squeezed. “I’m just fucking with you, kid. We both know what it’s like to be flush, and what it’s like to do without. Remember, you can do a lot more good in this world with money. You couldn’t have saved your little old lady from losing her home if you were poor. Don’t ever apologize for being rich.”
Eric nodded. “I suppose. I’m adding senior citizens to my list of charities.”
“Well, you can count on contributions from me,” Jack volunteered.
“That’s because you are a fucking senior citizen.”
The comment earned a laugh from Jack, but he quickly sobered. “Speaking of charity, I really hope you aren’t planning on turning over half of everything you own to that she-witch.”
“I’ll give her whatever it takes to get her out of my life.”
Jack shoved his hands into the pockets of his cashmere trousers. “You shouldn’t give her one red cent.”
Eric spat a sound that was half laugh and half lament. “C’mon, Morrissey. You’ve been through this enough times. California is the community property capitol of the universe. The ‘she-witch’ is entitled to half of everything.”
“But, but after what she did…couldn’t you leverage that into a better deal?”
Eric swiped a set of keys from the table and ambled to the door. “I’d gladly have her ass thrown in jail, but I don’t have anything concrete to use against her.”
“But… But,” Jack continued to argue.
“But nothing. I got her to agree to end the marriage.”
Jack followed through a towering stucco archway. “So you’re letting her walk?”
Taking an easy breath, Eric walked out into the bright Bel Air sunshine. He slipped his sunglasses onto his nose and gave his friend a two fingered salute. “Don’t worry, Jack. Today I get my freedom, and my wife gets everything she deserves.”
****
Flanked by her attorneys, Bree Davis Laine swept into the conference room with a smile of confidence lighting her face. Eric imagined she was more than happy that the multi-million-dollar portfolio of assets in the Laine-Davis coffers was to be split evenly. All real estate, including Eric’s farm, was to be sold and the profits divided.
Sounds from throats being cleared and briefcases clicking open started the official process. The head of Bree’s team, the most cocksure looking member of the firm, read documents in an efficient manner. His smile equaled, if not exceeded Bree’s.
“Well then, all we need are some signatures,” Eric’s lawyer added.
Eric grinned, his eyes sparking confidence and fastened on his opponent. “Just a sec.”
A young man stepped up to the table and addressed Bree. “Bree Davis-Laine. You’ve been served.”
Her head snapped, whip-like, in Eric’s direction. “What the hell is this?”
Her attorney grabbed at the envelope and tore it open to read the contents. “He’s suing you.”
“Suing me! For what?” Bree’s eyes grew wide. “How can he sue me?”
Her lawyers huddled together at the table to read the subpoena as Eric nodded for his own lawyer to produce another packet. In it was a collection of papers as thin as a college rejection letter. “I’m suing you for pain and suffering on behalf of my daughter.”
Bree sprang to her feet and spoke around a laugh. “You can’t prove I did anything, and she isn’tyourdaughter in case you forgot.”
“Wrong on both counts,” Eric said. “DNA proves Jane Marie Laine is my child. And by the way, Mark gave you up.”
Other than the quick blink that made her eyes pop wider, she looked cool and unruffled. She brought her hands together prayerlike, her glossy fingernails glowing under high-hat lights. “Mark Chambers is an unhinged drug addict. If the police believed anything he said, I would have been arrested. As for yourchild,are you really willing to make her relive everything for money?”
One of Bree’s lawyers tugged at her arm, urging her to sit. “Mr. Laine, my client had nothing to do with the unfortunate incident back in New York. You’re grandstanding to get a better settlement. Judges frown on extortion.”
Eric’s steady stare went far beyond anger. It was outrage, fury, the wrath of a father confronting the person who hurt his child. He leaned across the table, close to Bree, his voice fixed and low. “You led a man…no, not a man…an animal to a little girl. You knew Mark was a rapist, anunhinged, fucking sociopath, yet you still delivered him right to my daughter’s doorstep. What the hell is wrong with you?”
