32. Caleb
Chapter 32
Caleb
I ’m shitting bricks as my first character witness, my sister, Miranda, takes the witness stand. I know she loves me, but our relationship has been strained at times, as I’ve pushed her loyalty and patience to the brink. She’s also got no filter, this chick. Which, normally, I consider a cool thing. A funny thing. Not in this context, though.
“What’s your relation to Caleb?” Paula asks Miranda, once my sister gets settled in the hot seat.
“He’s my big brother and my hero. He’s four years older than me.”
Paula smiles. “You know Caleb well?”
“Very well.”
“Why do you consider him to be your hero?”
“Because he’s always been my protector. Always had my back.”
“Is Caleb a perfect man?”
My sister snorts. “Far from it.”
“Even so, would you have any qualms, if your brother were granted full custody of the child? ”
“Not a single one. I’m positive he’d be a fantastic father to her.” She flashes me a loving smile that makes my heart skip a beat .
“You’ve seen Caleb with the child?”
“Yes. He’s adorable with her. It’s the cutest thing, ever.”
With prompting, Miranda launches into explaining her recent visit to Prairie Springs, and all the specific things she witnessed that have caused her to conclude her niece would be in good hands with me, as her full-time, custodial parent.
“Aubrey and her family should always be in her life, too, though,” Miranda adds, unprompted. “They’re family now. That was clear to me when I spent time with everyone in Prairie Springs.”
I scribble a note on the pad between Aubrey and me: So far, so good.
Honestly, I can’t fathom the glowing, unqualified review Miranda is giving of me—under oath, no less—when I know full well I’ve pissed her off, endlessly, over the years. But then again, I can’t imagine my sister would say any of this, if she didn’t truly believe it’d be the best thing for Raine. Knowing Miranda, she’d pick Raine’s wellbeing over my wishes, any day. And rightly so.
After a while, Ralph’s attorney gets the chance to cross-examine my sister. With a smirk, he immediately goes for the jugular. “You’ve personally witnessed your brother being violent on many occasions, have you not?”
“Several times. But not in a long while.”
Jesus. Here we go.
“ Several times?” Ralph’s attorney sneers. “Please, list them all for me.”
“ All of them?” Miranda gasps out, like he’s asking her to name every star in the galaxy, and it’s all I can do not to palm my fucking forehead. What the fuck, Miranda? Play some goddamned chess, dude, not simple checkers.
“Okay, well, when I was about ten, I’d say,” Miranda begins, “I witnessed my teenage big brother, Caleb, punching my father in the face for the first, but not the last, time. I believe Caleb punched him twice that time, but it might have been more. Either way, he did it to stop our father from beating the crap out of our mother. That’s what Caleb had to do several times over the years. Always for the same reason. Until finally, Caleb’s band took off and he got rich, so he was able to get our mother away from our father for good.”
Ralph’s lawyer shifts his weight and checks his notes on the lectern. Clearly, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting.
“Should I go on?” Miranda asks, breaking the thick silence.
“Sure,” the lawyer says, sounding a tad less confident than before.
Miranda takes a deep breath. “About ten years ago, Caleb got home from tour and found out this awful boyfriend of mine had gotten a bit rough with me during an argument, so my brother drove over to my apartment and beat the crap out of him. I’d already broken up with the loser by then, so I told Caleb not to bother with him. But he wouldn’t listen. He said, ‘And what about the next woman he dates? What will he do to her, if he thinks there’s never going to be any consequences for his bad behavior?’” Miranda smirks. “So, anyway, he drove me to my ex’s place and beat him up, while I waited in the car. And then, he called me inside and made my ex get on his knees in front of me, while his face was all bloody and gross, and apologize to me.” She bites back a smile. “Caleb made him apologize and beg for my forgiveness—and he made him do it in a teeny-tiny baby voice.”
Really, Miranda ? She seriously thinks that cute little detail is helpful here? Fuck me.
I look down at my hands on the table, so the judge won’t see whatever’s on my face. I’m deeply concerned my sister is unwittingly torpedoing my chances here today. But I’m also, honestly, kind of proud of that moment, and I don’t want the judge—or Paula—to see my face, in case I’m involuntarily smiling at the delicious memory.
“I should also mention,” Miranda continues, “that my brother also made that guy promise not to do anything like that, ever again, to anyone else. Or Caleb said he’d find out and come back and do much worse to the guy. Honestly, I’m not sure how Caleb would have been able to deliver on that threat, but he seemed pretty convincing at the time, and the guy swore up and down he’d never, ever lay a pinky on anyone else.”
Ralph’s attorney sighs. “Is that everything?”
Miranda considers. “No. But I think that’s enough for you to get the gist, right?”
“No, I want you to tell me everything .”
With a long, put-upon sigh, Miranda leans back in her chair. “If you insist.” She pauses. “Okay, well, around five years ago, some guy in a bar grabbed my ass—sorry, your honor, my bottom —and my brother knocked the jerk out cold with one punch.” Miranda smiles at me. “The whole bar cheered him on, and a female bartender sent my brother a big bottle of champagne to thank him. Apparently, the guy was a known menace at that bar, a friend of the owner’s, apparently, who couldn’t be banned; and the whole bar was thrilled to watch him go down.”
“Was he badly hurt? ”
“Nah. He was fine. His ego was bruised more than anything, I think.” Miranda taps her chin. “Another time, not sure when, exactly, years ago, this guy in Paris grabbed my mother’s arm, really hard, and insisted she convince Caleb to take a selfie with him. My mother and I had joined Caleb for the European leg of his tour, so we were traveling with him and the band. So, anyway, this guy grabbed my mother with such a hard and scary grip, she screamed really loudly. So, Caleb flew into action and pushed the guy away from our mother. The guy wound up falling back and hitting his head on the sidewalk and going to the hospital. Apparently, he filed a lawsuit against Caleb later, but it was thrown out because the whole thing was caught on video and the judge declared Caleb’s actions ‘totally justified in defense of his mother.’”
With a smirk, Miranda takes a long drink of water. As she does that, it feels like everyone in the courtroom, including the judge, is waiting with bated breath for her next stomach-churning story about me.
“Another time,” my sister finally says, replacing her cup, “I was dating this guy in LA who’d get super sloppy and offensive when he was drunk.” She looks at the judge. “Yeah, I really know how to pick ‘em, your honor.” She returns to Ralph’s attorney. “So, anyway, he said something outrageously horrible about me while playing pool in a bar, and, unfortunately for him, my brother overheard him, even though I didn’t. And the next thing I knew, my brother was dragging my boyfriend into the bathroom and washing his mouth out with soap.” Miranda snickers and bites back a smile. “Everyone in the bar who’d heard the comment said it was really gross and Caleb was totally justified. One person even told me Caleb let the guy off easy. I never found out exactly what he’d said, though, so . . . ” She shrugs. “I wish I knew, honestly. Sounds like it was juicy.”
I hang my head, feeling sick. All these stories, told in rapid succession, make me sound like a goddamned, unhinged lunatic. I don’t think my sister is making it clear enough all these stories happened years apart. Also, I haven’t done that kind of shit in a very long time, other than when I slapped Trent, of course. But besides that, the last time I hit someone was when I punched Violet’s now-husband, Dax Morgan, years ago, in the face. Thanks to Miranda, however, I’m sure the judge thinks this kind of violent behavior is a daily thing for me.
“Anything else?” Ralph’s attorney asks. “Anything at all?”
“That I’ve personally witnessed? No, that’s it, I think.”
Shit. The way Miranda said personally , it’s going to make Ralph’s attorney ask?—
“Does that mean you have second-hand knowledge about even more violence perpetrated by Caleb?”
Yep. That.
Paula objects before Miranda responds, thankfully, and much to my relief, the judge sustains the objection and instructs Ralph’s lawyer to move on.
“Your honor,” Ralph’s attorney whines. “Miss Baumgarten is well known to be close friends with a woman whose husband got punched in the face by Mr. Baumgarten?—”
“ Move on ,” the judge says firmly. “Mr. Baumgarten’s propensity to play superhero is now clear and well-documented. I’ve got the gist.”
“No further questions,” Ralph’s lawyer says, looking annoyed.
As Miranda leaves the stand, I look down at my hands on the table again, rather than making eye contact her. That was rough, dude. But, hey, at least, Miranda won’t be forced to yammer on about me punching Violet’s then-boyfriend/now-husband, Dax. So, I guess that’s a good thing. Unlike the other stories Miranda told about me, I can’t honestly say that punch to Dax’s face was justified. In fact, I was dead wrong to do that, as Miranda emphatically told me at the time. In fact, my sister was so furious with me about that punch to her best friend’s boyfriend’s face, she wouldn’t speak to me for weeks.
“Our next character witness is Amy Beretta,” Paula announces.
I take a deep breath. Come on, Amy. After Miranda’s so-called support, I’m going to need Amy to do some serious damage control. She’s my only character witness today, other than Miranda. Amy’s husband, my good friend, Colin, the drummer for 22 Goats, also wanted to testify; but Paula said having a musician from a hugely popular band on the stand would make it seem like I’m throwing my celebrity weight around. Not to mention, Colin was there, personally, unlike Miranda, when I stupidly punched his bandmate, Dax, so putting Colin on the stand and subjecting him to cross-examination about that would be a big mistake for that reason, as well.
My three bandmates, Dean, Emmitt, and Clay, also wanted to testify today, by the way. But they’re even more famous than Colin, so Paula said no way. Plus, they’ve all personally witnessed me being a hotheaded prick too times to count over the years, so whatever good things they might have to say about me probably wouldn’t have been worth it in the end.
“How do you know Mr. Baumgarten?” Paula asks Amy.
“We met when I was assigned to Caleb as his personal assistant during Red Card Riot’s world tour, about six years ago. We’ve been close friends, ever since.”
Under questioning, Amy describes me as loyal, kind, protective, and generous. Someone she knows she can turn to for anything. Someone she trusts completely.
“Have you seen Caleb interacting with his daughter?”
“No, not yet. But I’ve got no doubt Caleb is a wonderful father to her, given how great he is with my son, Rocco, who’s the same age. They were born about a week apart.”
“You mentioned Caleb is protective,” Paula prompts. “Can you elaborate on that?”
“During the time I worked for Caleb, some crew guys got out of line with me, and, unbeknownst to me at the time—I found out later—Caleb came to my rescue and made sure nobody harassed me in any way for the rest of the tour.” On and on, Amy goes, alternately making me sound like her white knight and the second coming of Mr. Rogers. Seriously, it’s all I can do not to stand and shout, “Don’t overdo it, Amy! For fuck’s sake, we have to make this sound believable!” Man, if she truly believes even a fraction of the shit she’s saying about me today, then I guess I’ve been doing something right as a friend, unbeknownst to me.
“No further questions,” Paula says, and surprisingly, Ralph’s lawyer decides not to question Amy himself. Probably, he realizes he can’t dim or besmirch the human ray of sunshine sitting on that witness stand, so why even try?
“Our final witness is Caleb Baumgarten himself,” Paula announces.
“Mr. Baumgarten,” the judge says, gesturing for me to take the stand. And so, after inhaling deeply and sharing a pointed “here we go” look with Aubrey, I rise from the table, button, unbutton, and then button again my sport coat, and stride to the witness stand with confident, long strides designed to camouflage the current of anxiety throttling every inch of my body.
So far, all Paula’s questions have been softballs, as expected. The same ones we’ve practiced. So, naturally, I feel like I’m killing it.
“What’s your goal here, Mr. Baumgarten?” Paula asks.
We’ve practiced this. “I want custody of my daughter, so I can be the father she deserves.” It’s all I’m supposed to say in response to that question. But in light of the long list of violent episodes Miranda recounted about me, I feel the need to improvise and add something else. “But even more than that,” I add, much to Paula’s visible surprise, “I want my daughter to be safe, happy, and loved.” I look at the judge. “Your honor, if you decide I’m not a fit father for her, then I beg you to give full custody to Aubrey.” I swallow hard. “To be clear, I very much want full custody for myself. So, so much. But I want what’s best for my daughter, even more than that, and there’s no better person in this entire world than Aubrey Capshaw.”
“Thank you, Mr. Baumgarten,” the judge says.
“I’m done with my questions,” Paula says, before turning toward the table again.
“One more thing,” I say, halting Paula’s movement. “Sorry.” I look at the judge again. “I feel like I need to add something to one of my prior answers. Remember when I said Aubrey is my nanny and friend? That wasn’t the whole truth. Since I’m under oath, I feel like I should admit that . . .” I exhale. “I’m in love with Aubrey. Madly in love with her.” I peek at Aubrey and her mouth is hanging open. Same with Paula’s. “I haven’t told her that yet. I haven’t told anyone. But I feel like you need to know that, your honor, to understand just how highly I think of her. Aubrey’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The great love of my life. If something happened to me, she’s the only person I’d ever want to take care of my daughter.” I look at my sister in the audience. “Sorry, Miranda.” Miranda smiles. “So, please, if you decide against me having full custody of my daughter, then Aubrey is one hundred percent where my daughter should be placed.”
I peek at Aubrey again, and the look on her face makes my heart explode in my chest. She loves me. That’s what Aubrey’s dark, glistening eyes are confirming in this moment. And, man, it feels fucking incredible.
“Thank you, Mr. Baumgarten,” the judge says softly, forcing me to wrench my eyes off the great love of my life. “Are you finished and ready for cross-examination now?”
“Yes, your honor,” Paula says. “Thank you.”
Ralph’s attorney gets up and clears his throat. “You had zero interest in meeting your child before six weeks ago, correct? In fact, you only stepped up to avoid paying child support to Ralph Beaumont.”
“Not true. I admit I dragged my feet as a father for six months. But then, I emailed Claudia and expressed extreme regret for my prior lack of involvement in my child’s life. I begged Claudia to let me meet my baby, but Claudia refused.”
Ralph’s attorney looks flabbergasted. Thoroughly shocked. “There’s . . . zero evidence of any of that,” he stammers out.
“I’ve got the email exchange on my phone to prove it, if you want to see it. ”
“Yes, please,” the judge interjects, as Ralph’s attorney chokes on his words.
I bring up the emails and hand over my phone to the judge, who studies the messages with great interest. Once she’s done reading, she hands my phone to a bailiff and asks him to show it to all attorneys and parties, which he does. And, finally, when the phone comes back to me on the witness stand, the judge instructs me to read the whole email exchange, word for word, out loud, for the court reporter to take down.
I do as I’m told, and when I’m done reading, I address the judge. “I found out recently Claudia didn’t write that reply to me, even though it came from her account. In fact, it turns out Claudia never even saw my email.”
Ralph’s attorney is beet-red. “And you base that conclusion on what , exactly?”
I share a secret smile with Paula, the best, most kick-ass attorney and friend who ever fucking lived, before replying with, “I base it on what Claudia’s ex-boyfriend, Ricky Schaeffer, confessed to my attorney about a week ago.”
“Yep. It’s true. Claudia never saw C-Bomb’s email.”
That’s what Claudia’s ex-boyfriend, Ricky, testifies, when he gets on the stand, and, thank God, tells the fucking truth.
“How do you know?” Paula asks calmly, even though her heart is probably beating a mile a minute underneath her cool exterior, the same as mine.
“‘Cause I’m the one who replied to C-Bomb’s email,” Ricky answers. “After I replied, I deleted the email, so Claudia would never know about it. And then, I went ahead and blocked C-Bomb’s email address and social media accounts, too, so Claudia wouldn’t get another message from him.”
“How certain are you that Claudia never saw Mr. Baumgarten’s email?”
“One hundred percent. Trust me, if she’d seen it, she would have been on the first plane to LA. Not to mention, she would have let me have it for answering that email for her.”
A low din erupts in the courtroom among the few people in the gallery, and the judge tells everyone to be quiet.
“Why did you hide that email from Claudia?”
Ricky shrugs. “Jealousy, I guess. I’d been pretty obsessed with the idea of Claudia cheating on me for months by then—which she never did, by the way; so I watched her putting in her password on her phone one night, and then I started checking her phone every night, after she fell asleep.” He looks at me apologetically. “When C-Bomb’s email came in, I happened to be on Claudia’s phone at that moment; so while Claudia slept next to me, I replied and blocked him.”
“Why didn’t you want Claudia to receive that email, Mr. Schaeffer?”
Ricky motions to me. “Look at him. He’s rich and famous and looks like a tattooed god, and I’m just a regular guy. I knew C-Bomb was Claudia’s celebrity crush and she’d already had sex with him once. Now, he wanted to fly her and her baby to his fancy mansion in LA for a family reunion? Hell no. I knew the chances were high Claudia would fall in love with him in California. And what guy wouldn’t fall in love with Claudia in return? She was a dream girl. Sweet and pretty and super smart. And let’s not forget, she already had a baby with C-Bomb, so why wouldn’t he give her a real shot, if she came to California?” He shrugs. “So, I answered the email, blocked him every which way, and never looked back.”
“Meaning you never told Claudia about the email?”
“That’s right.”
Paula sighs, as I do the same behind her. We’ve struck gold here, thanks to Paula’s dogged persistence at finding this guy, and I’ll never be able to thank her enough.
“Thank you, Mr. Schaeffer,” Paula says somberly. “I’ve got nothing further.”
At the judge’s invitation, Ralph’s attorney gets up. “Mr. Baumgarten has promised to pay you a whole lot of money, if he gets custody here, hasn’t he?”
“Nope. C-Bomb didn’t promise me anything. I mean, yeah, he paid for my flight and hotel to come here. But that’s it. I came here to do the right thing, that’s all.”
“Why now?”
Ricky twists his mouth. “When Claudia died, I started feeling guilty about what I did. Claudia told me about how her dad repeatedly raped her as a kid, so I knew?—”
“Your honor!” Ralph’s attorney screams, along with whatever his client is simultaneously shouting. Mayhem ensues, during which a bailiff steps in to keep Ralph at bay. In the end, however, even after Ralph’s lawyer continues his questioning, he only winds up giving Claudia’s ex-boyfriend yet another opportunity to repeat his firm belief that Claudia’s child shouldn’t go anywhere near Ralph Beaumont because of “the bad stuff” Claudia told him about her father.
“The kid should go to Aubrey or C-Bomb,” Ricky insists. He looks at Aubrey. “More so, Aubrey, probably, since I personally witnessed her being a really good auntie.” He shrugs. “I mean, if Aubrey thinks C-Bomb is up to the job, then I trust her judgment, and I know Claudia did, too. But my vote would be Aubrey. She’s a solid citizen, that one.”
“I have nothing further,” Ralph’s lawyer says, his shoulders drooping and his tone dejected.
I glance at the judge, my heart thumping. She’s stone-faced, but I feel like we landed a strong punch with this guy. The only question is whether it was a knockout punch or merely a flesh wound.
“Let’s take a fifteen-minute break,” the judge says. “When we return, we’ll hear from the court-appointed experts.”