Chapter Eleven #2
Amanda pulled the items out of the bag and placed them on the table. Diapers and wipes which, holy shit, cost a fucking fortune. And some gifts for Petal, a couple of cute outfits, some toys, and some books the woman in the bookstore had said were perfect for babies. “Thanks.”
“Where is Petal? Can I get her?” She needed to be held. Lennon would have a fucking fit if he knew a screaming baby was being ignored.
“Theo, I want to introduce you to my lawyer, Bernie Kates.”
“Well, I didn’t come here to meet your lawyer. I want to get my daughter. And call me Dred.”
“I can ask you to leave at any time, Theo. And I have a witness. So please. Sit with us first.”
Dred looked in the direction of the screaming, torn between what was right in that moment, and right in the long term. He made a mental apology to Petal. “Can you at least go to her for a moment? Soothe her at least?”
“Not until we’ve talked.”
Dred remembered his lawyer’s counsel to keep his anger out of it. “This feels like an ambush. Should I call my lawyer?”
“Now, now, Mr. Zander. This is a simple conversation. Nothing legally binding about a chat.”
“What do you want?” The cries were getting louder, his own levels of distress escalating in direct proportion to the wails.
He knew the hard reality of what it meant to a baby to be left alone, screaming for attention for hours upon hours without being held.
How they finally realized nobody was ever going to come for them, to love them, to hold them, to be there for them.
How they stopped crying for attention that never came, and withdrew into themselves.
“I want to talk about access between now and the final decision about custody. If you are willing to pay to see her between now and the custody hearing, I won’t request one hundred percent custody.”
What the . . . ? “What do you mean?”
Bernie leaned forward. “Ms. Veitch means she is willing to offset her desire for full custody against your financial flexibility on the settlement, starting now. She wants an apartment bigger than this one-bed plus den, and expects to receive a to-be-determined monetary sum payable to Amanda Veitch at the start of every visit.”
“This isn’t a chat,” Dred said starting to pace. “I was right, it’s an unprofessional ambush. I’ll have the two of you reported.”
Petal’s shrill cries were cutting through his skin like a whip. He couldn’t take much more.
“You’ll have us reported for what? As far as Ms. Veitch and I are concerned, this conversation never happened, and you came to the condo aggressively with attempts to intimidate Ms. Veitch. If I hadn’t been here to intervene, who knows how you might have responded.”
“Blackmail?” he spat.
“Persuasion,” Amanda said.
Fuck this. He was going to walk out without seeing Petal. He wanted to be able to swear on a lie detector test that he hadn’t done anything aggressive in his attempts to see her.
But then the unthinkable happened.
Petal stopped crying.
Dred raced through the condo, pushing open doors until he found Petal in a bassinet in an empty den. He swept her up and pulled her close. Her heart pounded furiously against him as she sniffled into his shoulder.
“I’ve got you, baby girl. I’m here. I’m always going to be here. Nobody is going to stop me again.”
“Mr. Zander. I suggest you hand the baby back to the mother. You can check out the Government of Canada’s Department of Justice page on child custody, but I can assure you, when a court order is required to determine custody, it goes exclusively to the mother in eighty percent of the cases.
I strongly suggest you accept the current compromise Ms. Veitch is offering. ”
Dred felt like he’d been wrapped in barbed wire, but he knew he wouldn’t win this round today. If he walked out of the condo with Petal like he wanted to, they’d testify together that he’d been violent, or worse, had abducted Petal.
He stroked her back, soothing her for as long as he could, periodically kissing her smooth forehead. She’d fallen asleep on him, and despite the shitty situation, it made his heart soar that he could make her feel safe enough to sleep.
“I’ll be back for you baby girl, I promise,” he whispered as he laid her back in the bassinet.
* * *
Miami had done the unthinkable and dropped cold.
The rapid descent from higher-than-average late April temperatures to lower than average caught everyone off guard.
It might be overkill, but Pixie was toasty warm in the coat Dred had bought for her.
Actually, she was a little too warm, but better than being Lia who was shivering in her light jacket and scarf.
She pulled out her phone and took a selfie for Dred. She attached it to a text message.
Spring in Miami. Come keep me warm?
It was Saturday, and she and Lia were both on the later shift, so they’d planned to visit their favorite vintage store. Pixie was looking for some specific fabric for a dress she was making, but first she had to visit the bank.
“What are you smiling about over there?” Lia asked, trying to peer over her shoulder.
Pixie showed her the photo of her in her coat, and Lia laughed.
“Your rock star should fly you to Brazil for the day. I bet it’s hotter there than here.” Lia blew warm air between her hands. “Ask him if he’ll get you a jet. We’ll skip work and I’ll go with you, see if I can’t find a nice Brazilian man to appreciate me for at least twenty-four hours.”
Pixie laughed as her phone vibrated. She stepped away from Lia and checked the message.
Holy guacamole. The photograph was taken from his shoulder down his body revealing all his abs.
A white sheet was strategically placed across his .
. . well . . . and his hand was under the sheet in a way that suggested he was holding his . . . jeez.
Spring in Brazil. I’ll be warm when I come. Next time . . . less clothes!
She blushed bright red, embarrassed to admit the photo turned her on as much as his overtly sexual behavior shocked her.
Being logical and practical, she’d never share those sorts of photos.
That’s how revenge porn got started. But part of her wanted to try, perhaps be a little .
. . sexier . . . than she was right now.
She took a deep breath. Wish I was there to watch.
There was a pause and her phone vibrated again. You can watch from there if you want. Change to video :-)
Lia studied her curiously, and there was no way in hell she was standing on a Miami street corner watching the hottest man alive jerk himself off for her. Because that would be . . . hot, delicious, sexy . . . wrong.
Pixie typed a quick response. My head says no, but the rest of me . . .
There was a short delay of response. MY head says yes ;-) But the rest of me gets it. Miss you, Snowflake xxx
Miss you too <3
Pixie had travel envy. Not only would she love to visit Rio to check out Ipanema Beach and the giant art deco statue of Christ the Redeemer, but she wanted to be there because Dred was. The idea of exploring both the man and the sights of Brazil were equally compelling.
“I’ll see you in there,” she said to Lia. “I’m going to get some cash.” It wasn’t lying. It just wouldn’t occur to Lia that she was actually withdrawing so much.
Pixie hated having large sums of money on her ever since she’d been mugged upon arrival in Miami, but if she’d waited until after they’d shopped, Lia would come in with her, and there was every chance that she’d hear how much money she was withdrawing.
Which would lead to questions. And that was bad.
Bad that she still hadn’t figured out a way to resolve things.
Of course she had options, the problem was they all sucked.
Call Arnie’s bluff and say no, which could lead to him going to the police.
Find a lawyer, go to the police herself, and confess.
Tell Cujo and Trent, and ask them to help her, talk to him even.
Continue to give him money. A headache developed in her temples.
Perhaps she’d start with telling Trent and Cujo that her step-dad was coming around again.
She entered the bank and joined the line of a teller she didn’t know very well—less questions that way. As she took her place at the front of the line, Cedro, her favorite teller arrived and switched places with the cashier.
“Hello, Miss. Pixie. You are looking delicious today. How may I be of assistance?” He fiddled with the brooch attached to his work shirt, revealing bright yellow nail polish.
“I need to withdraw . . .” She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t withdraw the money from Cedro. She’d come back. “I need fifty dollars, please.”
“You could have got that from the machine,” he said with a bright smile, taking her card.
Pixie thought quickly. “I know, but then I wouldn’t have seen your cheery face. When is that delicious boyfriend of yours coming back into the studio for some more ink?”
Cedro laughed. “I think he has enough already.”
They walked through the transaction and Cedro withdrew the cash from his tray. “How is the business planning coming along?” he asked.
The question hurt worse than a spear through her heart. “Starting to pull things together,” she answered vaguely.
Cedro counted the cash onto the counter. “I’m so excited for you, Pixie. Good luck.”
Pixie tucked the cash in her purse, and left the bank.
Once outside she unzipped her coat and sat down on the bench on the sidewalk.
She no longer felt like going shopping. She felt like crying.
What was the end game of all this? Arnie wasn’t going to stop until he had everything he wanted, and hellishly, that seemed to include her.
She’d rather go to prison than allow that to happen.
She’d given him five hundred and fifty, and he came back for a thousand.
If she gave him the thousand, he’d come back for more.