Chapter 15 #2
Marin storms over to Max’s low car and lays her hands on the hood, staring at us in challenge. Nostrils flared, skin flushed, jaw taut, she looks wilder than a bull that’s seen a red flag.
“She’s seething and I don’t know what she will do to your car.” I don’t trust her. She’s disrespectful with other people’s belongings, and every day she wakes up in fight mode. In another life I hope she finds peace because she sure as hell never found it in this lifetime.
“It’s just a car, Paige. It’s easily replaceable and fixable. What’s her name? I’ll talk to her before you get out of the car.”
“You don’t need to do that. I’m a big girl, Max.” I don’t need saving.
“It’s not up for debate. I’m telling you, not asking. Stay in the car.” He presses the power button off, killing the noisy engine. “I still do a lot of pro bono work in my free time. Trust me, I’ve dealt with worse characters than your sister in the middle of the night.”
I can’t believe he still offers free legal services.
Now that I have Alfie, callouts in the middle of the night are just a distant memory, but I would love to help individuals avoid harsh penalties, jail time, or get into diversion programs. Divorce might be my and Max’s specialty, but it doesn’t mean we can’t help people who need us the most.
Whoever ends up with Max as their supporting counsel should feel like they struck gold. He might be my nemesis, but he’s a brilliant lawyer.
This new side I’m seeing of Max today is completely unfamiliar to me.
I never imagined he was capable of being compassionate.
Maybe I never allowed myself to see it because I never truly gave him a chance.
I know he comes from a wonderful family.
I’ve met his mother many times, and even his father before he became ill, so it makes me wonder why I didn’t believe Max could be just as good as they are.
Now I can’t understand why I never gave him a fair chance in the first place, or how we even ended up as enemies.
“Her name is Marin, but you can go, Max. I’ll be fine.” I’m a bag of nerves but I don’t want him to know that as I reach for my workbag.
He stops me from making my move, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. It’s the first time he’s ever touched me, and I’m not shaking him off for reasons I can’t explain.
“Sorry.” He removes his hand when he realizes what he did.
“I’m not leaving you with her. She looks like she’s eating bullets and about to fire them out of her mouth in your direction.
” He scratches the rough scruff on his face with his other hand, something he does often.
“Now, do as you’re told and sit tight until I tell you to leave the car. ”
“Okay.” I’m never this agreeable, but dealing with Marin by myself can be overwhelming; Max can be my buffer.
“Good girl.” Max winks at me, in that pantie-melting way only he can pull off. He’s devilishly handsome and that grin of his always looks dirtier than it should. Or perhaps that’s my crazy brain making observations it shouldn’t be.
He opens his door and is out of the car before I can make any further arguments to stop him.
“Hey, Marin.” He greets her casually like she’s his long-lost friend. “How are you?” He shuts the door, muffling Marin’s salty response.
“Who the fuck are you?” She spits venom his way with such force, eyeing him suspiciously, narrowing her eyes, watching him, then studying me before taking her hands off Max’s supercar and standing to her full height.
Marin doesn’t live in the real world. Not that Max’s car is anything close to normal, but Marin lives paycheck to paycheck and can barely get by.
There’s no way she could ever understand or appreciate the cost of his sports car.
Max comes from serious wealth. Old money, and it shows in every part of his life.
Penthouses, sports cars, yachts. He and his brothers don’t just have one of each; they own several between them.
Their lifestyle is as unfamiliar to me as it is to Marin, but at least I understand how they operate. She doesn’t.
My sister and I couldn’t be more different.
That’s been obvious since she became a teenager.
While I stayed in and studied, Marin was out partying, never caring about curfews or rules.
She’s been testing our parents’ patience since she was old enough to talk back.
I never did. I had too much respect for them, and I knew exactly what they gave up to put me through law school.
That’s why I keep people at arm’s length when it comes to my personal life. In my career, I know what I’m doing. I’m confident and in control. But personally, it always feels like I’m walking through a minefield. And Marin? She’s the biggest challenge of all.
Right now, she’s challenging Max.
“I’m Max,” I hear him tell her through the glass and metal barrier. “Paige’s friend.”
“Boyfriend, you mean,” Marin snaps back, hackles up, ready to go to war. “Landed herself a rich prick in a suit.”
He denies her accusation with a subtle gesture, holding his hands up. “No. I work with Paige, that’s all. We just want to talk but I won’t let Paige get out of the car unless you give me your guarantee you will be civil to your sister.”
“What are you, her bodyguard or something?” She wipes her nose with the back of her hand then scratches at her arm.
Three rounds in rehab and not one of them worked.
I saw what she was like the last time she entered rehab.
It wasn’t pretty, and the way she clawed at her skin is reminiscent of the way she’s behaving right now.
“I’m your sister’s friend, that’s all,” Max assures her.
More like his frenemy, but I’ll take whatever he’ll give me today because dealing with Marin by myself is wearying. I’m trying to keep my head above water, but I’m tired and feel like all my stuffing has been punched out of me.
I’m not just running on fumes; my tank is empty.
“I’ll play nice.” Marin’s hand movements are agitated; she’s a far cry from the driven and dedicated teenager who once dreamed of being a dancer on Broadway.
That all changed during the summer before she was supposed to attend the School of Theatre and Dance, but she never even made it to her first day.
Yes, she still dances because, boy, can she dance, but her dream of becoming a superstar is long gone.
Instead, she dances for unmentionables in a strip club, who take advantage of her, use her like a toy, and then discard her once they get what they want.
Max does a gimme gesture with his hand, telling me it’s safe to join them.
I inhale a deep breath, put on my brave pants, and get out of the car, putting up my lawyer shield to protect me from her unjustified wrath.
“How have you been, Marin?” I ask, my voice devoid of emotion as I close the car door. If only I could run to her and throw my arms around her, but Marin doesn’t do emotional reunions and hugs aren’t her thing.
She ignores my question and asks me her own. “When the fuck did you get these?” She points to the gates with her finger.
“Not long after you left your son on my front porch.” I fold my arms across my chest, feeling like I want to punch something as rage weaves through my bloodstream.
In her current state, she’s not fit to be a mother.
“He was six months old, Marin. You left your own son outside, alone, without knowing if I was even home.” I still can’t believe she did that, and I see the confusion in Max’s eyes as he tries to understand that horrific information.
Marin’s downturned mouth is full of arrogance as she mirrors my stance, folding her arms across her front before popping a hip. Her next question makes my spine bristle. “How is the rugrat?”
“His name is Alfie and he’s thriving.” Cute as hell, and the love of my life. “Do you want to see him?”
“Nah, I’m good.” She shrugs, moving from one foot to the other, hopping about like the asphalt is much too hot for her to stand on in her thin-soled tennis shoes.
God give me strength. She’s so nonchalant and dismissive of Alfie’s existence, but I’m glad she doesn’t want to see him because it means I still have all the evidence I need to support the adoption, and it’s stronger than ever.
“I’m adopting him.” I know she won’t put up a fight. Taking responsibility for her actions has never been one of her strengths.
She claps her hands mockingly. “Good for you. Paige the do-gooder.”
There’s something in her coldness that cuts deeper than anger ever could. I can’t make sense of how easily she brushes off anything to do with Alfie. I’m no do-gooder, I’m doing what’s right.
“Can I ask you who Alfie’s father is?” I’ve never asked her before, couldn’t find it within me to go there, but with Max standing on the other side of her, as if we are two bookends with her in the middle, I find the confidence to finally push for an answer.
Catching her off guard when she’s least expecting it might work in my favor.
“Some rich judge fucker from Pacific Heights. Geoff Holmes?” she replies straight off the bat.
Christ, she doesn’t even know his name, but I do. “It’s Griffin Holmes,” I tell her, unable to look Max in the eyes because he knows exactly who Griffin is. Everyone does.
He’s a superior court judge and holds the highest-paid judicial position in San Francisco.
“Was he a client at Caspers, the place you worked at before you relocated to Las Vegas?” I hate exposing her true profession to Max this way.
Everyone knows Caspers is a strip club, and I’m loath to ask about Griffin as he’s someone I respected and held in high regard.
Now I’m not sure who the hell to trust anymore.
Griffin’s wife is the sweetest woman I’ve ever met.
How could he do that to her? What a cheating prick.