Chapter 21 The Blow Job Class #3
“Yes. This morning, I was about to start contacting many of the divorce lawyers that I know, but one top guy called me before I could even pick up the phone.”
Cadence blinked. “Why would a top lawyer call you out of the blue?”
Ro sucked her teeth. “It better not be Scott playing more games. He’s a fucking narcissist.”
“No.” I shook my head. “This lawyer is apparently a part of a firm that works with Dominic’s family. That was all he could say.”
Cadence blinked again. “So. . .Dominic had this top lawyer call you?”
“Yes. And from the way the lawyer was talking, he thinks he can get Scott out of the house in less than seven days. I’m not sure. Scott knows the judge and he’s a sneaky bastard. Also, this new lawyer won’t tell me how much he will be charging. I know that bill is going to give me a heart attack.”
“He might not be telling you how much he is charging because Dominic is taking care of it.” Cadence smiled. “It’s so hard to not love Dominic. Everything inside me says for you to not do anything with him, but then. . .I like the way he treats you.”
“And let’s not forget that Dominic has been more of a man than Scott could ever be,” Ro added. “Age ain’t nothing but a number.”
I let out a long breath. “I’m stressed but. . .I feel like it will all work out. . .eventually.”
“It will.” Ro hugged me.
Cadence patted my back. “You just have to keep it cool around Scott and let Dominic’s lawyer do his magic.”
We returned to class.
Star had moved around the room answering questions and adjusting women’s angles.
Many minutes later, we finished the drills.
The Helpers refilled everyone’s glasses.
Star toasted to us.
We all clapped, drank, and class was dismissed.
What a crazy week.
The Helpers moved around the class, collecting empty flutes.
In the front, Star gathered her props.
We stayed back while most of the room filtered out in small knots of perfume and blow job commentary.
Someone came over to talk to Ro about a class refund from last month that she hadn’t received yet.
I took that moment to check my phone.
Scott had grabbed the kids today and taken them to McDonald’s for dinner. It was his half-assed attempt at showing how great of a father he was and how much we supposedly needed him.
Cheap fries and a Happy Meal toy weren’t fatherhood, they were a photo op. He posted to all of his social media as soon as he got there with the kids.
The caption:
“Being a lawyer and father can be hard, but somehow I figure it out.”
That man wouldn’t lift a finger to help with homework, wouldn’t sit through a school play without checking his phone to see if some bitch contacted him, but suddenly he wanted applause for buying nuggets and apple slices?
The whole thing made my skin crawl.
He thought parenting was brandishing a receipt and a plastic bag, like the kids couldn’t tell the difference between being loved and being pacified with salt and sugar.
I knew that he would look smug when I arrived home tonight. He would expect me to be impressed. Like I could forget the years of him disappearing when bills piled up, or how quick he’d turn his temper on me the second I asked for real help with J and Oliver.
If Scott really wanted to prove something, he could show up at parent-teacher conferences, or stay awake when J was sick at three in the morning.
But Scott didn’t want the real weight of fatherhood. He wanted the easy photo version. And he wanted me to swallow the performance like it was enough.
Not happening.
I went to my message app and saw that there was one new text from Dominic.
I tensed and got excited all at once.
Fuck. What did he say?
My thumb hesitated and then tapped on the screen.
Dominic: Don’t let that bullshit paper make you forget about what we have. When you get home, come downstairs.
I stared at it until the words throbbed. My chest did a small, traitorous flutter. Then I typed a reply. My hands were steady and treacherous at once.
Me: But. . .Scott’s home. I can’t just yet. We will have to wait a few days.
The typing dots appeared immediately, telling me that Dominic had been waiting for my response and was ready to reply.
Oh shit. What is he going to say?
The dots paused, then returned, then disappeared, then came back.
His final message came in.
Dominic: Don’t worry. I put Scott to sleep tonight.
What?!!!
The phrase blew the air out of my lungs.
Sleep like a nap?
Sleep like a threat with a pillow over its face?
I tasted metal.
The class’s warm light tilted.
What do you mean you put him to sleep?!
My thumbs went numb.
I typed, backspacing twice, terrified of the permanent shape words could make.
Me: What do you mean?
Three dots showed on the screen.
Then nothing.
Then three dots again, slow, like a heartbeat being measured.
I could hear my own blood.
Then his new text popped up.
Dominic: I’ll explain when you get here.
Oh fuck. What did he do?
Terror dropped into my stomach and kept falling.
I rose from my seat, said quick goodbyes, and rushed out of there.
Lord. . .this week keeps getting crazier and crazier.