Splitsville, page 10
“Do you tithe to your church? Do they pass the collection plate?”
“Sure, but—”
“I’m sorry, but to me it looks like the old club criticizing the new, even though they aren’t that different. I grew up in a Christian home, too. Toxic Christianity. Really did me some damage. You don’t need the details, but it was rough. I thought I was filled with sin and headed for hell. I was in my mid-twenties before I stopped seeing a noose of eternal damnation dangling around my neck. I had to learn to survive without the support of an invisible messiah who never shows up and never does anything tangible.”
Kenzi made a note. Do not put this woman on the witness stand…
“As an adult, I’ve tried to spread the word about the potential harms of raising children in organized religions. I’m all for spirituality, but nothing that’s going to permanently damage the child’s soul. Conversion therapy. Anti-LGBTQ programming. Racial bigotry—in a religion that supposedly worships a Jewish teacher.”
“My daughter showed me some of your online posts.”
“Not on Instagram. And you know why? Because I got kicked off Instagram. They closed my account. They said I was engaging in hate speech. Because I spoke out against organized religion. My message is about love and self-empowerment, while established churches preach racism and homophobia. And I’m the hater. This world is so messed up it makes me want to scream.”
“Were you posting sexual content?”
“Probably. People are such Puritans. They want to think they’re so holy. I’m proud of my body and I’m not afraid to show that, in words and photos. But the Christian dogma preaches that we should be ashamed of our bodies and pretend that sex doesn’t exist, except in marriage, and even then we don’t talk about it. In my coven and in Hexitel, we teach people to take pride in themselves, to embrace sexual healing, to understand that this is a gift and it should be used to improve the quality of life on Earth.”
“But just to be clear, you and Maya are not and have never been sex partners.”
“We’ve never even kissed, and yet she feels much closer to me than she does to her husband. We have something better. A higher, more fulfilling relationship. A joining of minds. Of spirits. She’s my home. I feel safe with her.” Candy sighed. “That’s something your courtroom is never going to understand.”
Probably right about that. “You have a tattoo, don’t you?”
“Of course.” She held up her arm. It appeared to be a mirror image of Maya’s wrist tat. “We each bear half the image. When we’re together, we’re whole.”
“And the brand?”
“Upper left thigh, if you must know. A cross surrounded by a circle.”
“And an HX on your left shoulder?”
“Of course.”
“Are the other members of your coven in Hexitel?”
“Many are, but not all.”
“So you’re also a pagan.”
“You are really into the labels, aren’t you?”
“I’m just trying to identify possible landmines in my client’s case. Before they explode.” She gazed at a seagull passing overhead. Beautiful. But she also knew gulls were scavengers. What appeared lovely on the exterior was often ugly on the inside. “I guess that’s all I need to know for now. Thank you for your time. If necessary, would you be willing to testify on Maya’s behalf?”
“Do you think that would be helpful?”
“I’m not sure. But I’d like to know I have you in reserve.”
“If you think I can help Maya, I’ll be there.”
“I appreciate that.”
Candy stopped walking. “Have you considered taking a Hexitel intensive?”
“Not really…”
“You’d benefit. You have a lot of sexual energy. But I think you’re still searching for your corner of the sky.”
“I have been thinking about making some…changes…”
“You’d be a fantastic exotic dancer.”
“That’s not what I had in mind.”
“Well, you have to plot your own journey. Unlock your magic.” She touched Kenzi on the shoulder. “I could help if you like.”
Kenzi took a small step backward. “Are you offering to spank me?”
A sly smile crossed Candy’s face. “It might start there. And who knows where it might lead?”
Chapter Seventeen
The Sentinel stared at the downtown office building. Maya was visiting her lawyer. Again. Cause for concern? Perhaps. And yet, everything was proceeding according to plan. If plan was the right word.
Maya’s house was quiet these days. Almost empty. Michael had split, taking Brittany with him. Kicking and screaming, but she went. Of course, the Sentinel knew where they were and had toyed with releasing that information to Maya. Or her new lawyer. Would make little difference in the end, but it would definitely stir up trouble. That alone made it desirable. Stir the pot. Generate energy. Keep the game going. Enjoy it while it lasted.
They were all going to die anyway.
Maya had come home late last night. Why? She’d never been good at keeping secrets and, ironically, this split had made her more transparent just when she needed to become less so.
Did she suspect? Did she have any idea? That she was being monitored, watched at all hours of the day? And so much more…
No. She’d stayed late at work, that was all. They had that new Defense Department contract, but it was probably more a matter of working late because she had nowhere to go. You’re not supposed to have an empty nest when your child is in grade school. It was tearing her apart. Coming home to the empty house was like coming home to a cemetery.
She would not be the first to feel that way.
These surveillance efforts had to be stepped up, even if there was little true cause for concern.
Thus far.
Michael had hired a woman in his church group to keep an eye on Brittany during the day, not that it was making the experience any better for the poor girl. She spent most of her time crying for her mother and telling her father to leave her alone.
Not a daddy’s girl, to put it bluntly. Only in America could you find a court system that gave custody to a parent the child detested. How easily the law could be manipulated. Hire a good lawyer, let him scare the judge with insubstantial specters, and poof! Custody granted. To a deadbeat father with a long history of combustive violence.
Despite what must have been enormous temptation, Maya stood by her little cult. Religion. Professional empowerment group. Which label was most accurate? It was hard to stifle a laugh. Only the Sentinel knew what this group was. And how much power it could wield.
And yet, there Maya was, clinging to what little she had left, a white-coat research job and an expensive support group currently being investigated by the attorneys general in three states. She was nothing if not loyal. Loyal to a fault, one might say. Loyal to the point that she had put herself and her child in danger. The Sentinel assumed that, after she lost custody, she would drop off the face of the earth.
That was the plan, anyway.
One way or the other, Maya had to be eliminated. Preferably without eliminating her child, but nonetheless, it had to be done. Let her take the blame for everything, before, now, and in the future. That seemed the simplest path.
Maya would have a target on her back. As would all the people she worked with. And that internet-hound lawyer she hired. They all were in danger. The greatest danger, of course, was the fact that they didn’t realize they were in danger.
The bullet that does the most damage is the one you never hear coming.
Chapter Eighteen
Kenzi livestreamed as she crossed from the parking garage to the ground floor of the Rivera & Perez office building. She didn’t have much to say, but Hailee had emphasized the importance of regular updates. Given what Hailee told her about her plunging following, she needed to do some damage control, quickly.
“Here I am, KenziKlan, sporting my bright blue Prada coat and matching scarf, ready to wage war on the entrenched white male forces that would tear a young child from her mother without so much as a preliminary investigation or allowing the mother to speak in her own defense. That’s not how we’re supposed to do things here in America. Maybe in a Communist country, but not here.”
She barreled through a typical Seattle morning, misty and gray, talking as she walked. “Now listen up. I hear some of you are disappointed that I’m representing a woman who’s in Hexitel. I know the trolls have been posting all kinds of information about that group, some of it patently false. Friends, don’t be part of the problem. Be part of the solution. Don’t believe everything you read in your news feed. Demand truth.”
She took a deep breath and made a right turn at the corner. “I’m not saying Hexitel is perfect, but then, I don’t understand the appeal of the so-called self-help industry. I think if you need help—help yourself. Pull yourself up and get to work. But don’t dis the mother because you don’t care for her religion. I can tell you two things for certain, and to me, they are the only two things that matter. Hexitel is not posing any danger to my client’s child. And my client loves her daughter. You want to be outraged about something? Be outraged about a husband with a history of violence lawyering his way into custody.”
Almost there. She needed to wrap it up.
“We have to stick together, KenziKlan. I’ve always been committed to helping women in need and that commitment will not waver. No mother should lose her child unless she’s a proven menace—emphasis on the word proven. That’s why we have courts. That’s why we have lawyers, too.”
She ended the stream and passed through the revolving doors into her office building.
Did saying all that in a livestream meam she believed it?
She hoped so. Because if she couldn’t convince herself, how could she ever convince a judge?
“Girl, are you playing with me? She really said, ‘Unlock your sexual energy?’”
“She said it.”
“And—‘orgasmic manifestation?’”
“You think I could make that up?”
Sharon waved her hand in the air, mock-fanning herself. “How did you keep a straight face?”
Kenzi smiled. “It took some effort.”
“I don’t know how you do it sometimes.” Sharon placed some paperwork on the edge of her desk, then pushed the overloaded message spindle closer. “As you can see, there have been a few calls.”
“People wanting me to handle their divorces?”
“No. People bitchin’ and moanin’ about the way you’re handling Maya’s divorce.”
“How does everyone know what I’m doing?”
“One word. Internet.”
“Yes, but how? Stuff doesn’t go viral spontaneously. Someone has to start the fire. I’ve worked hard to build the KenziKlan. But I’ve never managed to ignite a wildfire like this.” Her forehead creased. “And look how well I dress. It’s not fair.”
“I did notice the coat. Prada?”
“Good eye. Scarf too. I was going to wear a headband, but I was afraid it might be too much for the judge.”
“Good call. Want me to toss these phone messages?”
“No. I’ll try to talk some sense into them. If I have time. I’m meeting Maya and—”
“Before you do that.” Sharon tapped a particular message. “You’ve been summoned by Daddie Dearest.”
“Just the two of us?”
“Not sure. I saw our distinguished new managing partner enter your father’s office earlier.”
“They’re ganging up on me.”
“Theoretically, young Gabriel is now the boss. Maybe he’s going to act like it. Or at least watch to see how it’s done.”
“I’ll show him how it’s done,” Kenzi muttered. “Hold my calls.”
She marched toward her father’s office—and almost trampled someone in the process.
Papers flew into the air and tumbled to the floor. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Her apology was met with a glare. It was Emma Ortiz, the token criminal lawyer on the bottom floor. Hadn’t seen her since the fateful partners meeting.
Emma looked put out, as if Kenzi had crashed into her deliberately. “Maybe try looking where you’re going?”
“That could go two ways. What are you doing up here? I thought you never left your office.”
“I’d rather never leave my office. But people keep insisting that I solve their problems.” She paused. “Or steamroller me on their oblivious path to the next livestream.”
“I’ve got a meeting with the managing partner.”
Emma almost smiled. “Daddy calling you to the woodshed?”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“Gonna bend you over his knee and swat your backside?”
Ugh. Kenzi skittered past her without comment. Right now, spanking jokes didn’t seem remotely humorous.
When she arrived, she found both father and brother waiting for her, Dad in his overstuffed chair and Gabe standing at his side like a dutiful lieutenant. She felt as if she were walking into an ambush.
She wasn’t far wrong.
Her father minced no words. “Explain yourself, Kenzi.”
Something about his tone—or maybe it was words-plus-tone—set her teeth on edge. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I instructed you to drop the Breville case. That was a directive, not a request. And you haven’t done it.”
“What do you know about the case?”
Gabe replied. “Exactly what everyone in the entire legal community knows about it.”
He tossed down a copy of the weekly Seattle Law Times. She was several feet away but still close enough to read the headline just below the fold:
RIVERA REPS CULT LEADER.
Uh-oh.
Her father drummed his fingers. “Care to comment?”
“I never—”
“And don’t give me your usual insolent defiance. I want real answers.”
Kenzi leaned against the chair on the opposite side of the desk but refused to sit in it. She did not want to be comfortable, and she did not want to be placed in a subservient position. “In the first place, that headline is totally wrong. Hexitel is not a cult and Maya is not the leader.”
“Stop nitpicking. Are you appearing on her behalf this afternoon?”
“Sounds like you already know that I am.”
Her father threw himself back into his chair. “It’s like you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”
Oh, I heard them. I just didn’t give a damn. “I can’t drop out now. I have interviews scheduled this morning, then I’m picking up my client for the hearing.”
“Are you at least going to win the motion?”
“You want me to help the cult leader?”
“I don’t want you to be in the courtroom. But if you’re going to be there, I damn well expect you to win. People will be watching. And reporting. The Rivera reputation is on the line.”
“It will be a tough battle. But chances are—”
“Don’t give me that odds-making crap. I’m not an insurance adjuster. Are we going to win?”
“It’s…possible.” She was never comfortable making predictions, and this case had already proven far less predictable than most.
“That’s not good enough.”
Gabe cleared his throat. “Our concern, Kenzi, is that an alliance with someone in a notorious cult could cause more desirable clients to go somewhere else. We have a reputation for catering to the finest families in Seattle. Tech giants. Corporate CEOs. People who want the best and are willing to pay for it. We can’t afford negative publicity.”
“What makes you think this will generate negative publicity?”
Gabe pursed his lips. She could see this made him uncomfortable. It was just like when they were kids and their father would pit the two of them against one another. “Well, for one thing, I, unlike you, have actually read this article. And it’s mostly negative. I’ve also seen what people are posting online.”
Oh.
“Kenzi, you bear the family name. Whether you like it or not, you’re an official representative of this firm. Your successes have helped us in the past. But your failures could do permanent damage. And this association isn’t going to help us even if you win.”
Her father nodded. “The optics are horrible.”
Kenzi suspected that was the only hip phrase he knew, so he used it over and over again. “I’m more interested in substance than appearance.”
“How noble. But sadly, when building a business reputation, appearances are everything. That’s how you get the five-hundred-pound gorillas to write big checks.”
She knew that was true. But she still didn’t like being pushed around by two men. She wondered if her father would speak to Gabe this way. She would never know, because Gabe would never put himself in this situation. He was always Daddy’s puppet.
“My first instinct was to send Gabe to the courtroom with you today.”
Oh God. Anything but that.
“But then I thought, no, putting another Rivera in there would only magnify our involvement. But once the hearing is over, I want this client fired. If you can’t do it, Gabe can.”
“Let’s see what happens at the hearing and—”
Her father cut her off, his voice rising to a near-bellow. “I don’t give a damn what happens. After the hearing, you bring your client back to the office. I’ll have the withdrawal forms prepared. Gabe will sit down with her and explain…something. We’ll give her a good referral. She can be someone else’s problem.”
Kenzi felt a lump in her throat. “Dad…Maya is counting on me. Her daughter is counting on me.”
“Stop being sentimental. This is a business, not a sorority function. You have to do what’s right for the firm, not what makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Successful businesses are not built by soft hearts.”
“Daddy—”
“This representation ends today.”
“Daddy—”
“The irony is, you thought you should be the managing partner.”
