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Me: Anyways, you can’t call me Thor.
Ari: Why not?
Me: Because Hercules and Thor don’t mix. They aren’t the right mythology or whatever.
King Linc: Hercules?
Ari: His dick, Golden Boy. It’s his name for his dick.
King Linc: Why do all of these conversations end up with discussions about dicks?
Ari:…
Me:…
King Linc: Sigh.
Olivia
“I’m ready to make my ruling.”
The judge’s words seemed to echo around the L.A. courtroom where my attorneys had spent the last hour presenting all the evidence Walker’s P.I. had collected over the last few months.
It helped that Marco had admitted in prison to drugging me that first night—-that he and Jolette had orchestrated itall. Evidently the loss of his dick and his freedom had fully convinced him that it wasn’t worth attempting to lie anymore.
He’d already lost everything.
Jolette was sitting in the courtroom, her attorney mostly silent thus far except for an attempt at arguing that Marco had been the mastermind behind everything that had occurred—and Jolette just a victim.
That argument hadn’t gone well with the Court.
She sat slouched in her seat, a pitiful sight devoid of all her usual pretentious glamor. Her once impeccably styled blonde hair had grown out since that day she’d come to the house, revealing gray roots—a sight I’d never seen on her before. Without the façade of designer labels and ostentatious accessories, she appeared utterly diminished, a hollow shell of a human being unworthy of any sympathy. Like her mask had finally been removed.
“What has happened to Ms. Jones is a miscarriage of justice,” the judge began, her expression stern as she surveyed the room, her keen eyes seeming to miss nothing as they darted over the spectators filling the rows behind me. She frowned for a second, like she didn’t like so many people in her courtroom. “It is a sad and unfortunate truth that the conservatorship process is not perfect. That sometimes it can be wielded like a weapon, instead of as the healing stopgap it was originally intended to be.”
Dressed in a black robe that billowed around her like a cloak of authority, she finally turned her attention to me.
“I know there is nothing that I can say today that will remedy the past and the harm that’s befallen you…that will bring back the years that you’ve lost. But I hope that it will at least allow for you to flourish in the present. The Court’s order is that from this day forward, the conservatorship is ended, all rights are returned to Ms. Jones; legal, financial, and otherwise. I also order that Jolette Jones and Marco Davine will pay restitution for the appalling misuse of Ms. Jones’s funds. In all my time as a judge in L.A. County, I have never seen such an abuse of a conservatorship. Although I predict that they will spend the majority—if not all—of their lives in prison for the fraud and abuse and other crimes they have committed, any money they do earn will go to reimburse Ms. Jones, and any assets they currently possess will be liquidated to assist with that reimbursement.”
The judge’s words echoed in my ears, and a rush of emotions swept through me like a sudden downpour, drenching my senses and leaving me reeling in its wake.
Relief, disbelief, and a profound sense offreedomswelled in my soul, mingling with the pounding of my heart and the tight knot of anxiety that had been lodged in my chest for so long it was all I could remember.
I glanced at Walker in disbelief, wondering if I was dreaming. If I would blink and I’d wake up in bed, alone and miserable in that L.A. apartment.
It felt like I’d been in chains all these years, and the weight of them had suddenly fallen away. It was a heady sensation, exhilarating and terrifying all at once, like stepping off a precipice into the unknown depths below.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I stared around the courtroom, taking in the faces of fans that had shown up to showsupport once news had begun to leak out about what Marco and Jolette had done to me. I could have used their support years ago, but I guess it was a nice enough gesture now.
The judge banged her gavel, adjourning the hearing, and I stood up, unsure for a second what to do with myself. My gaze fell on Jolette and I walked towards her, unable to stop, Walker trailing behind me with his comforting presence.
“My client doesnotwish to speak to you,” her lawyer mumbled, sounding embarrassed as he spoke the words.
It must suck to represent a piece of trash, one that I was sure wouldn’t be able to pay him. His fee was certainly not coming out of my bank accounts.
“That’s fine. I just have one thing to say toherthough,” I said sarcastically, staring at my mother as she tried to avoid my gaze. “This will be the last time I think about you,” I told her. “But unfortunately for you…I’m quite positive that you will think about me for therestof your life.” Jolette flinched at that statement…because she knew it was true. She may not have spent much time thinking about me all these years, but that was definitely going to change.
She was about to have a lot of time on her hands.
