24 The Shred
Beau/Dash
“Paw, this must be serious. Everyone’s at the table at once, and there’s no food, or drinks,” Ava quipped from her usual spot at the kitchen table. Her legs swung back and forth beneath her chair, the rhythmic motion a sign of her restless energy. “Lay it on us.”
I hesitated but met her gaze. My firebrand of a daughter who, of all the children, needed to absorb this warning the most. She had to learn to control her outbursts starting right now.
“This is serious, Ava. Out of everyone here, you need to heed this message the most.”
“What happened today is likely to occur again. I want you prepared,” Dash started from his seat beside me.
“What happened today?” Livie asked, her natural curiosity shining through.
“Hold your questions to the end, sweetheart,” I said. “Otherwise, we’ll never get through what your dad needs to say.” Another tough request, Livie questioned everything in an effort to get to that higher plane of knowledge. “Remember, your dad’s case has been tough, but he’s standin’ up for people who’ve been harassed badly and can’t stand up for themselves. It’s important that he follows through to the end.”
West’s hand shot in the air. A small smile tugged at my lips despite the seriousness of the moment. “Can it wait, West?”
“I don’t know. What’s harass mean?” he asked innocently. West was a good guy. Not sweet like Fisher or tough like Hunter. He’d wanted to get it right and needed to know more.
Dash’s hands quietly slapped on the table, drawing attention to him. “In this case, harass means treating women badly.” The ripple effect was immediate. Four additional hands shot in the air, followed by Hunter’s hand, who looked more like he was mimicking the others than truly needing any clarification.
“My girls and boys, hold the questions to the end,” Amelia said. The hands slowly lowered.
“I feel strongly that you’re going to hear bad, crazy, untrue things about your paw and me. They’ll be mean and hurtful words that will upset you because you know it’s not true. I want you to ignore the bad words. If you can’t ignore it, then absolutely don’t show any emotion. Make your face look blank and never respond. Come home and talk to me or Paw. They’re saying these things to discredit me.”
West’s hand shot up in the air again.
“Discredit is a complicated word. In this case it means, the bad side is trying to make me look bad instead of them. If you act out, or respond, they will make you look like the bad one too, not them. Do you understand?”
West’s face looked uncertain.
“Daddy, I’m not going to do well with anyone talking bad about my family,” Ava said, her shoulders slumping, seeing the task as insurmountable.
“Ava, sweetheart, I need you to let your dad handle this. I’m like you. I don’t like seein’ your dad made to look bad. It’s incredibly hard on me, because I see him in the opposite way. He’s a great man. He’s my best friend, but in this case, we have to do what he asks of us. If we have an outburst, it makes his job harder,” I explained.
Dash took the pivot, never breaking in our explanation. “If you hear anything about your paw and me, or about the way our family lives, keep your head down and your mouth closed and absolutely no more stomping on crayons, got it?”
“For forever?” Ava blurted in outrage. “Because it’s not fair that they can say whatever they want and we can’t.”
“It’s called taking the high road,” Livie said reasonably. “We’ve been taught to do that for our whole lives.”
“It’s gonna be hard,” Mia said and reached for Fisher’s shoulder to give an encouraging squeeze, just like Dash and I did. Somehow, we’d gotten a lot of his outbursts down to fidget spinners and leg bouncing. He was trying his best, beautifully. I’d say he was the most sensitive of all with his newfound love of flamingos and sweet nature.
“Paw can beat ’em up,” Fisher said. His expression lifted from the gadget in his hand, morphing from concentration to lightbulb moments of brilliance.
“Yeah, that’s what I think,” West added.
“He’s stronger than all the dads,” Fisher continued. “And those people who keep following us.”
“Yeah. Paw got a hook caught in his hand and pushed it all the way through,” Hunter added, his jaw clenching, maybe making my pained expression.
“Daddy,” Livie said. “Do we only go silent if they say it in person to us?” Her big blue eyes were a telltale sign of something that might already have happened.
“What did you do?” Dash asked gently, but perceptively.
“The story about you was on the news station I follow, and they said it was you against your father, and then they talked about our lives, and the facts were all wrong,” she said and paused, looking worried as she added, “I sent an email to them correcting the wrong parts.”
“Livie,” I started, my heart sinking, but Dash raised a hand to stop me.
“Those are the things we can’t do, sweetheart,” he explained. “If they reach out to you, forward their message to me. Do not reply. I know you all want to stand up for each other, that makes me incredibly proud.” Dash placed a hand on his heart, tapping there. “But the people causing grief are trying to distract from the truth.”
Dash leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I took this case because of you three girls. No one should ever be bullied just because someone else holds power over them. What’s happened is grossly wrong, and I couldn’t let it pass. But it means we’re in for a tough fight. The people behind the harm have a lot to lose. They don’t want us to win.”
I reached for Dash’s hand and held it.
“Your paw agrees with me, and he’s not going to do well if you are given a hard time. We want the best kind of world for you to live in.”
“Okay, Daddy,” Mia said. Fisher followed, chirping her response. Dash looked pointedly at each of them. Probably the sternest look he’d ever given them, until he received a nod from each one down the line.
“All right, go get ready for bed. I’ll be up there in a few minutes to brush your hair, and teeth, and deal with your stinky feet,” I said and received a cacophony of groans and nos.
“Abuela, you do it. Paw hurts when he brushes. You don’t,” Ava explained rapidly.
“Okay, come on,” Amelia said, her warmth and caring nature filled the room. “I’ll do nighttime duties tonight.” She pushed away from the table, getting to her feet. The kids scattered. My grip landed on Fisher’s forearm to keep him here with Dash and me.
“I can tell you’re trying really hard and we’re proud of you. Be proud of yourself too,” Dash said, rising to go to the other side of Fisher’s chair. Our boy didn’t lack confidence. He jumped up, shoes on the seat, obviously knowing Dash was going to give him a hug. Fisher launched up before Dash was ready to catch him, but luckily managed it, squeezing Fisher tightly.
“I’m proud of you too, Daddy. Can you help me protect people the way you do,” Fisher sing-songed, bouncing his head back and forth. What an interesting interpretation of what he saw his dad doing. Then his legs locked around Dash’s waist. “Take me upstairs!” The grip he had on Dash’s fine dress shirt tightened.
“I will but show me how you plan to ignore anything ugly said about any of us.”
Fisher gave an instant angry look.
Dash shook his head no.
It took a moment of thought before his face went passive.
“Good boy. This house and your family are a safe place for you to react.”
“Yes, sir!” His fist charged into the air.
Fisher tried to whistle to gain Duke and Dixie’s attention. This time it worked, Dixie lifted her head. Duke followed. They lumbered to their feet.
“Perhaps it’s time to remove the gates,” Dash said to me, though Fisher, of course took the lead.
“Hunter’s tall enough now. He only falls when I push him.”
Dixie came between my legs for a rub down. The weight of the world seemed to hover over us like a dark cloud, but not inside these walls. I hoped it stayed out, giving Dash the safe place he tried to give to everyone else.
Dash
October 2024
Lately, deafening silence was my constant companion. The drive from my office to home was once filled with tunes from my lifelong love of music. Last summer, I’d begun a deep dive into revisiting the styles of music from the twenties. The 1920s. An era that fascinated me. I believed it was the foundation of the music we knew today. But was it really?
I hadn’t cared about finding the answer since August of last year.
Huh.
The court of public opinion was relentless. A beast that fed on the scraps of truth and spun them into grotesque narratives. My immediate family had become the metaphorical toilet paper stuck to the bottom of a dirty shoe—dragged through the muck, yet still hanging on. Surviving each step of this lawsuit was one thing; watching Richmond Holdings hire the trash, mega-elite promotional company and equally as egregious law firm—known as the bastards of the industry—was quite another.
Of course, my father wouldn’t admit fault. He wouldn’t say, “You caught me. My bad.”
But he also hadn’t made any attempt to quietly negotiate a settlement. Not that we’d accept, but they hadn’t even tried to keep this mess hidden. Instead, their entire battle strategy was to make me into the ultimate villain.
My family, my sweet children, his grandchildren were collateral damage, branded as the unclean filth of my supposed selfishness.
The viral clips were the worst of it. The savagely trolled plaintiffs, their entire lives were turned upside down. And my beautiful husband, Beau. Somehow, he escaped persecution. The public had latched onto his image as the all-American college football-playing, mountain-loving fisherman. His charters were booked solid, even during the off-season. It was as if they’d forgotten he was my husband.
What was I thinking, letting this get to me? Why did my heart hurt every single day? I was a damned good lawyer, how they had wormed their way past my carefully placed walls was a testament of how much I wished things were different. But this wasn’t about me. The abused women deserved better from the system.
Stone had become a family confidant with as much time as he spent consoling and listening to all our clients’ fears. He kept them on track. I felt a big bonus coming his way.
Maybe I was tired. Light dimmed the more exhausted a person was.
As I turned onto our street, I tried to summon my joy. My children were like hound dogs, sniffing out anything that was off. They’d pounce, peppering me with questions until I either lied or left the day behind. Might as well shed the melancholy before I saw them.
The cell phone’s ring startled the shit out of me. Stone’s name appeared on the screen.
A strong urge to ignore the call gripped me, but I answered anyway. “Guy, you’re making a habit of calling after work hours. Put it in an email. I’ll answer as I can. It’s not a hard rule to follow.”
Silence. The kind that stretched so long I checked the screen to see if we were still connected. If I spoke first, he’d win the silence battle. Keyboard clicks clattered in the background.
“The last time I called you after hours was last year. When I called you about this case.”
“Wow,” I said, trying to show my tease. “Correcting your employer? Bold move.”
“It’s not bold. We operate on a platform of open communication to evolve performance and productivity,” he said. “I know because I created the employee handbook.”
“Then not having the company’s best interest is actionable...” I couldn’t say it without laughter. Stone cared more about my company, honestly, our company, than anyone. Oh lord, was I thinking about law school and eventual partnership with Stone? My shoulders tensed.
“Sir, I’m calling for a reason,” Stone said sternly, clearly not seeing my humor. “We received five bags of shredded documents. They arrived a few minutes after you left.”
“Are you saying you received bags of shredded paper?”
“Yes. From an old school shredding machine. Example: let’s shred our documents because we had to print them on paper—because we’re old—kind of shred,” he explained.
My brain zipped through a million thoughts, but Stone’s words still made no sense. Piecing shredded paper together was a 1970’s police-style movie kind of detective work. In the real world, we used flash drives, wiped histories, and VPNs to hide the trail.
I couldn’t wrap my head around it. “Tell me again.”
“We received five bags of shredded paper, maybe five minutes after you left,” Stone repeated. “The shipment came from Richmond Holdings in downtown Dallas. When I asked who within Richmond sent this to us, they didn’t know.”
Fascinating . “Is there a way to piece the information together?” Seemed a legit next question.
“Not without putting it together strand by strand. It’s not out of the question that this could be an attempt to spin our wheels. I could see their joy in making us put together a graphic message after a weekend’s worth of work,” Stone said.
“And it’s Friday,” I murmured. Beau was going to be angry.
“So where am I going to sleep?” Stone asked.
“Carter built a new guesthouse between us.” Of course Stone knew, but I said it anyway. “We can spread out in there if it’s vacant. I need to see if it’s free. Come on over now. I’ll figure a space for you,” I said, my finger poised to end the call.
“It’ll be more efficient if I can go home and pack a bag on the way to your house.”
“Maybe I should send Beau to ride with you. How do these things play out? I’ve never had a paper shred case before,” I said, my mind tumbling over Stone’s safety and the security of what was dropped in our laps. “Are these old records?”
“Don’t know,” he said calmly. “The paper seems fresh. You’ve made me nervous. Am I safe with the shred? Do we need to have it securely transported?”
“Let me hang up. I’ll call Carter then find Beau. You know what? Have the security guard load your car then you two ride over here together,” I said, now worried how Beau was going to view this interruption to our routine. “See if Brianne’s in town. Get her over here too.”
Somehow, I’d made it to the driveway and parked in front of the house. Beau wasn’t home yet. And a weird case just turned weirder. I certainly didn’t want my father to make any more of an ass of me than he had.
Forty-eight hours later, Beau wasn’t the only one growing a beard. While I worked through the days and nights with Stone, my mister slept, worked his charters, and played with our children. He also ate some of my tamale dinner while bringing it to the guesthouse.
Where Beau shined was in sending Livie out to help us. She thrived in the chaos, her sharp mind piecing together the fragments like a pro. If I could make this her daily life, I’d be her favorite parent forever.
But then we hit something, changing the entire energy in the small space.
We found text message threads from my father’s cell phone, or so it appeared.
The realization hit like a punch in the gut. I instructed Livie to stop reading, but I couldn’t stop myself. The messages were damning. Each page held a back-and-forth exchange that contained condemning behavior. Once we put the pages in order, the heinous acts were all laid bare.
I handed the latest page to Stone, who read it and paled.
“How do we prove it to be true?”
“We have to find the people who own these different phone numbers,” I said. “The most consistent number has to be my father’s or brothers.”
“I can do that,” Stone said with a yawn. He had his laptop on top of his lap, clicking away. “I’ll probably need some real sleep. That was an obvious answer that I missed completely.”
“Livie, baby, only follow the patterns. Don’t read anything or I’ll have to stop you and send you back to the house,” I said, coming to stand behind her. She sat at the table inside the open kitchen and living room, a lamp was on nearby. Her fingers moved deftly as she brought piece after piece together.
Her gaze darted up to me. Her hands stilled. The disappointment was clear. “Don’t stop me. I like it. I haven’t read any of it since we saw the first bad word. But, Daddy, I’m helping the people too, so let me keep going.”
My hand coasted down her hair. She’d been at it with us for almost the entire time. This might be the only occasion that she hadn’t bathed in a twenty-four-hour period in her life. My heart tripped at her happiness at helping others.
Maybe she’ll take over my practice someday.
Maybe I could shred a bunch of paperwork and put it in front of her, perhaps the dictionary. She’d have the best time. I grinned broadly, even through my exhaustion.