Splitsville, page 5
“So do I, but I don’t need a tat to remind me.”
“We believe that by participating in these studies and rituals, we come to a better understanding of ourselves, our society, our world, and our universe. We believe it’s a path to joining with a cosmic consciousness. We hope to attain oneness. That’s our ultimate goal.”
“Did your daily life change because of your membership?”
“Not that Michael would know about.”
“Did you give Hexitel money?”
“Some. But it’s my money. If I want to donate to my church, shouldn’t I be able to do so?”
“He’ll say you diminished the marital estate.”
“How is this different from Christians tithing? Or donating money to a political campaign? Michael has joined a church, too.”
“I’ll make those arguments at the proper time. But I feel like I’m missing something. If you didn’t preach your gospel to Brittany and you didn’t take her to the ceremonies, what is it your husband objects to? And why does he think he should have custody?”
Maya laid her hands on the table, as if bracing herself. She slowly drew in several deep breaths. “I think what really bothered him most…was when I took a wife.”
Chapter Seven
The Sentinel stretched out in a car parked in the lot opposite the offices of Rivera & Perez. Not an ideal vantage point. But it would suffice.
These people were so oblivious. So distant, so removed from the world and what it was meant to be.
The current wardrobe had been selected to blend. Jeans. Sweater. Ball cap. A ski mask would be better, but that would attract attention. There could be many reasons for sitting in a car. But those explanations became somewhat suspect when you were dressed like a cat thief.
Three nights ago, the Sentinel had waited outside Maya’s house. The commotion inside was audible, even from a distant vantage point. They were fighting. No surprise there. Must be hard to pretend you wore the pants in the family when your wife made the money. And it must be hard to pretend you’re number one in someone else’s life when they’ve joined a cult.
How much of the bellowing had their daughter heard? It was past little Brittany’s bedtime, but who could sleep through this ruckus? The poor girl was probably hiding under the covers, quaking in her booties. No child should have to endure this. The Sentinel cared about that girl, naturally, and hated knowing she must be suffering. When the time came—that suffering would be alleviated.
As if the yelling weren’t bad enough, someone started throwing things. And it wasn’t pillows. Sounded more like dishes, or vases, or something that made a satisfying smashing noise.
And then Michael filed for divorce. No doubt Hexitel would be mentioned, although that wasn’t what bothered Michael most. Maya was buying a lawyer to help her get out of problems she’d created. All so predictable.
It was impossible not to feel for Maya. She was so unhappy. But those feelings had to be ignored. There were far more important matters at play. Work to do. Much to accomplish. These people and their petty mortal concerns could not be permitted to interfere. Certainly not some lawyer.
How much would Maya say about Hexitel? It’s a cult, but it’s harmless. Sure, all cults are harmless, until someone gets nailed to a tree. Or the congregation drinks cyanide Kool-Aid.
Or something even more sinister happens.
Perhaps this surveillance should be intensified. It might not be a dangerous situation yet. But it could become one. Quickly.
Or perhaps it wouldn’t come to that. Better to wait and see how this story unfolded. Maya had become an obstacle, and that would get worse before it got better.
Violence was never the ideal choice. But sometimes, it was inevitable. The most extreme sanction was always an option.
The Sentinel was watching.
Chapter Eight
Kenzi looked at her potential client wordlessly, in part because she was stunned, but mostly because she couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. “Your wife?”
“You heard correctly.”
“You have a husband and a wife.”
“In a way…”
Kenzi tucked in her chin. “Okay, talk fast. This is obviously relevant to any divorce settlement. If you’ve committed adultery, or worse, bigamy—”
“It’s nothing like that.” Maya looked uncomfortable. Her face reddened.
“You said you had a wife.”
“Not a wife-wife. Not a legal wife.”
“An illegal wife?”
“A spiritual wife.”
Kenzi tried to process this in the most positive way possible. “A wife to…help you on your journey to…cosmic nirvana.”
“In a way, yes. It’s something we do in Hexitel and it’s not wrong or immoral. It’s about spiritual awakening. Maybe we should use a different term but it’s supposed to indicate the importance of the position. The level of commitment. All our members are women, remember.”
“But I still don’t—”
“There are no husbands, no sexual predators. When you take a wife, it’s not about sexual bonding. It’s more like choosing your shaman. Your spirit partner. The person you know will always be there for you.”
“And yours is…”
“Candy Trussell. She’s a wonderful woman. She’s made my life so much better than it was before. I don’t think I could’ve made it through these past few months without her.”
Candy? Did her name have to be Candy? “Has your wife met your daughter?”
Maya squirmed. “They have met. Candy came over one night to get a book I wanted her to read. She ended up staying for dinner.”
Kenzi pressed her fingers against her forehead. She instinctively wanted to prevent a child from being torn away from her mother. But Maya’s story seemed inconsistent and this Hexitel stuff was just…weird. “This is bound to come up in the divorce.”
“We did nothing wrong.”
“You gave Michael’s attorney dirt to throw around the courtroom. They’ll say you exposed your daughter to a dangerous cult and aberrant practices.”
“I would never do anything to harm my daughter.”
“I believe you. But your husband’s attorney will do his best to make you look vile. And incidents like this give him ammunition.”
“I’m an American. Aren’t I entitled to freedom of religion?”
“Yes. But it’s my job to identify potential problem areas. And to be blunt—you’ve got a lot of them.”
“Let Michael take all my money. I’ve got a good job. I can build back. But don’t let him take my daughter. He’s mean and violent and vindictive. Living with him would destroy Brittany.”
Kenzi closed her eyes and focused. That was what it all came down to. Her client might be a whack job in a freaky cult, but at the end of the day, she was still the better parent. Michael was a menace. Maya might have made some mistakes, but she loved her daughter with all her heart.
Just as Kenzi’s mother had loved her.
She still remembered the day when she was twelve and learned her parents were splitting up. Neither bothered to tell her beforehand. She found out by reading documents her father left on his desk. Her mother moved out. Kenzi felt as if her entire world was falling apart, and for a while, it did. Her grades tumbled. She stopped seeing her friends. She didn’t want to do anything but hole up in her room and try to forget. But painful though that was, it was nothing compared to what she endured after the custody battle began…
And two months after that ordeal ended, she lost her mother forever.
Despite the obvious problems, she would take this case—for the daughter’s sake. And she would do everything possible to avoid an ugly custody battle.
“May I ask you something, Maya?”
“Of course. Anything.”
“You’re a scientist. You’ve been trained to propose hypotheses and reach conclusions based upon evidence. How could you be drawn in by…some whackadoodle cult?”
Maya’s back stiffened. “Science does not hold all the answers. Not everything can be reduced to ones and zeroes. We have souls.”
“I’m just…surprised.”
“Would you be equally surprised if I told you I was a Christian?”
Kenzi didn’t answer.
“And yet, Christians believe all kinds of things that science tells us are impossible. Virgin births. Miracles. People returning from the dead. No one hassles Christians—because they’re in the majority. But any time a new theology or faith comes along, it’s a cult.”
She supposed there was some truth to that, but it wouldn’t make this case any easier. “If you still want me to represent you, I’ll enter an appearance. And the first thing I’ll do is arrange a settlement meeting. It will be best for all parties if we can resolve this amicably rather than drawing it out for years and spending tens of thousands of dollars on legal fees.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Most divorce attorneys in this town are reasonable and don’t exacerbate cases with motions practice or discovery just to run up billable hours. We should be able to work something out. But I will warn you. Settlement means compromise. No one gets everything they want. If you’ve been the breadwinner, you’re going to have to give Michael some money.”
“But I’ll keep Brittany.”
“His play for custody is probably just a scare tactic. You’re her mother. Courts aren’t going to take a child from her mother absent extraordinary circumstances. Your situation is far from typical, but I haven’t heard anything that rises to that level. You’ll probably have to give Michael reasonable, possibly supervised, visitation rights.”
“As long as I’m the custodial parent, I’m happy.”
“Good. Expect to lose half of everything you’ve gained since the marriage, but any gifts, bequests, or trusts are yours and yours alone. Since your husband has a college degree and is employable, there’s no reason he should receive alimony, except perhaps in the short term. I can’t make any guarantees, but most judges in this county favor the American rule.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning litigants pay their own legal fees. He’ll cry poverty and maybe the judge will do something short-term, but in the long run, it’s in your husband’s interest to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”
“He’s angry. He wants to punish me.”
“Well, we can’t always get what we want, can we?”
“And the cost?”
“I charge a flat fee, not an hourly rate. Billing by the hour just makes people distrust lawyers. A flat fee encourages everyone to resolve disputes. If I can wrap this up expeditiously, I do all right. But even if it drags out for five years, it won’t cost you more than the flat fee.”
“Sounds fair. Should I write you a check?”
“Leave it with my assistant. I’ll file the papers and call opposing counsel to schedule—” She opened the folder Sharon had given her and saw the name atop the signature block on the last page of the Petition.
Maya’s husband was represented by Lou Crozier.
The lawyer Sharon called “the Spawn of Satan.”
Was it too late to double her fee?
Chapter Nine
Kenzi walked her new client back to the lobby, trying to assure her everything would work out. She found a young girl sitting in one of the overstuffed chairs in the waiting area, peering at a business magazine that couldn’t possibly interest her.
“Is this Brittany?” Kenzi asked.
Maya nodded. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk to her.”
The young girl looked up from the magazine. She was slim, a bit small for her age. Curly blonde locks. Gravity Falls T-shirt. As soon as she spotted her mother, she ran forward and wrapped her arms around her legs.
Several moments later, Brittany noticed she was not alone. “Are you the lady who’s gonna help my mommy?”
Kenzi crouched down so she could look Brittany straight in the eye. “I am. You don’t need to worry.”
“Are you helping my daddy too?”
She glanced at Maya. “No. Someone else is helping your daddy.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“He left home and he hasn’t been back.”
“You’ll see him soon.”
Brittany frowned. “Did Daddy leave because of me?”
Maya leaned in. “Oh, sweetheart, no.”
“Is he mad because I asked for a puppy?”
“No!” They both said simultaneously.
Kenzi felt a deep knife-cut to her heart. She totally understood where Brittany was coming from. “It has nothing to do with you, Brittany. Sometimes grownups have problems, that’s all.”
“Is Daddy going to take me away from Mommy?” Her eyes widened. “’Cause Mommy knows how to make jelly sandwiches and where to get me after school and what kind of ice cream I like best.”
“No,” Kenzi said firmly. “Absolutely not.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. No one will take you away from your mother.”
“Nothing bad is going to happen to anyone,” Maya said. “Daddy and Mommy may live in separate places, but nothing else will change.”
Brittany smiled a little. “That’s good. Maddie doesn’t like a lot of moving around.”
Maddie?
Maya pointed toward the chair.
A large doll, almost as big as Brittany. A soft cuddly blonde doll that looked very much like the girl.
“Tell Maddie not to worry,” Kenzi said. “I’ll do my best to get all the problems settled as quickly as possible.”
“Maddie wants to be a scientist when she grows up.”
“Does she? Like your mother. Very ambitious.”
Brittany looked down. “But sometimes…she’s not sure she’s smart enough.”
Kenzi placed her hands on Brittany’s shoulders. “Listen to me, Brittany. Maddie is smart enough. She can be anything she wants to be. Girls get the job done. And I will get this job done.”
Kenzi informed Sharon that she’d accepted the case and asked her to start drafting the Petition and assembling the preliminary documents. Despite Crozier being on the other side, she could see Sharon was pleased.
But she hadn’t forgotten her Number One task for the day.
She marched to her father’s office—and had to wait almost half an hour before she could get in. She’d delayed too long, and his assistant Marjorie acted more like his Chief of Staff. Access to the Main Man was severely restricted, even for his daughter. Kenzi had always felt Marjorie disapproved of her. Maybe it was just paranoia. But probably not.
She heard a buzz, then Marjorie looked up. “You may go in now.”
She wondered if she should kiss Marjorie’s ring. “Thanks so much.”
She entered the office. Her father had his own velvet pile carpet, much more luxurious than what the rest of Rivera & Perez sported. Two walls were adorned with a burnished red wallpaper and his worktable displayed two authentic Lioveras sculptures. The walls bore no diplomas but several works of art by minor Latinx painters, including one behind his desk highlighted by a small overhead spotlight. This was by far the best-decorated office in the firm, but her father could afford it, and it was important to him. She knew how much he thought appearances mattered. He wanted visitors to know he was successful—and rich.
He smiled amiably. “How’s Daddy’s little girl?”
“I’ve been better.”
“Looks like you’re doing great to me.” He gestured toward a chair on the other side of his desk. “Sit. Take a load off.”
She did, thinking of the irony. In her office, she sat on a level plane with visitors, even ones she didn’t know. In his office, his daughter got the subservient chair on the opposite side of his hierarchal throne.
Alejandro Rivera was just past sixty but he didn’t look it. Partly because he maintained a strict daily Peloton routine. Partly because of his spa visits, frequent facials, regular Botox injections, and a little hair dye. He looked distinguished, but not old.
“Thank you for seeing me.”
“Stop. You’re my daughter. I’m always happy to visit with you.” It wasn’t true, but it was nice that he would say it. “As long as you don’t have your cellphone in hand.”
“I don’t stream inside the office.”
“Thank the sainted mother for that. Isn’t it time you gave that up? You’re a partner in a major law firm. It seems beneath you.”
Only because you’re old, she wanted to say, but didn’t. “Dad, social media is how people market today. My online publicity has brought this firm many new clients.”
“I still think you’d be better off putting the phone away and spending more time at celebrity galas. Tech-startup open houses. Country club balls. That would bring in the kind of clients we want on our list.”
“And who would that be?”
“Blue chip clients. Movers and shakers. Titans of industry.”
“Dad…we’re a divorce firm.”
“And fifty percent of all American marriages end in divorce. So we can pick and choose.”
“And you want me to pick rich people.”
“Larger estates lead to larger legal fees. Speaking of which—are you still offering clients flat fees?”
“According to our bylaws, every attorney is free to set their own billing schedules.”
“Don’t quote the bylaws to me,” he snapped. “I wrote those bylaws. I asked you a question.”
“Yes, I’m still offering people flat fees.”
“Honey, you’ve seen the studies. When attorneys bill by the hour, they make more money.”
“And also engender more resentment from their clients.”
“Not if you handle it correctly. You need to work so hard they feel grateful to you. Feel like they got a bargain because you did so much to help them.”
“Flat fees are fairer and no one gets mad afterward. No sticker shock. Clients pay exactly what they knew they were going to pay. It would be better for the reputation of lawyers if we all went back to flat fees.”
